The Weakend

It’s a Monday, and all I can think of is Friday …last Friday.

I knew I had to tame my excitement, and keep it at bay. Like every other friend, I had to smile just enough, the eye contact and my fluttering lids minimal and recognize when to keep my distance.

I couldn’t think of a word to call this, but Struggle.

I used to be 21 or below, where mysterious love or down-low hook-ups were exciting. The adrenaline rush of travelling from city to city or even to a different country has been exhausted, from the bus to the venue, or the taxi to another location, it all seemed like grey area.

All that known, I still proceeded. Thirty minutes later, I was more than ready to leave the hustling and bustling of the airport. This time, I had candy delivered.

I’d never been on a PR run, so I tried my best to shy away from the cameras and out the spotlight. Somehow, I was always laughed back into the conversation.

“That was unexpected” was all that was said. I knew I had to leave when my hands started shaking, but my return was inevitable.

Saturday Night was bomb; I love wearing my pigalle-style heels

*my shoe game, my shoe game, you cant touch that shxt”

My girl and I had the best seats in the house, with my favorite song played. I couldn’t think of the jab thrown directly or indirectly to the crowd, Bye Felicia.

We all have unanswered questions, but I heard the after party was great.

I was dreading the last day. And so it came, faster than expectations.

Then it all starts rushing back, everything said that wasn’t, car broken still not fixed, skins bruised not healed.

It’s still Monday, and all I can think of is Friday …last Friday.

xo