I fool myself on the weekends. During the week there is always a build up of good feelings. Sadly they all come crashing down during the weekends when I feel most alone.

It’s no one’s fault. I’m not even at fault. Although I mostly rest on weekends there is still a desire to paint the town red, and more importantly, with someone else in tow.

I filled this weekend with work. When I do this I barely have time to get to work much less do anything I might enjoy doing. Saturday was uncharacteristically busy and Sunday will be more of the same. On the one hand I make extra money but on the other, it sinks me deeper and deeper into loneliness and depression.

It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for over thirty-six hours. I’m suffocating and there’s no one to share it with. And yet I don’t want to. I don’t want to share. I don’t want anyone to suffocate with me. I want to go at it alone until I can go at it no longer.