i feel like my weekends follow a predictable plot line. i have found this through copious studies of the recurring themes and patterns found through the events that occur, the emotions that are felt, and the tears that blur my vision. conclusions have been formed and these are my findings:
1) pent up excitement due to expectations and happiness about the opportunities and possibilities. 2) raucous, careless, and reckless ‘fun’ that is totally effervescent and feels completely right, no matter what. 3) careless fun bleeds home into the sanctuary of the bedroom where a kiss in the dark is infinity. 4) wake up with a lack of consequence, a casual amnesia that induces laughter and amiable smiling. 5) a calm and rather impressionistic day of lackadaisical contrast but with pensive and imaginative undertones. 6) a night that requires abusive amounts of novocain in order to silence the salty deluges and moaning contradictions. 7) a stoic and stale next morning of awkward shuffling and grinning saying goodbye to physical and emotional connection for an undefined period of time.
this leads into another ordinary week and into another weekend, following in suit, with the undefined period of time growing larger and larger leading to a solely hypothesized theory of the soul and heart becoming weaker and weaker, unable to stand this recurring three day nightmare.