Mondays. I've never dreaded them like most people. They don't debilitate me more than any other day. Strangely, I've sort of grown to dread weekends more. Weekends carry with them the knowledge that they'll end. Mondays are the start of routine. The start of familiarity. The start of slowly working, getting things done. My weekends seem gone too fast and, if I'm honest, they carry so much pressure to be lazy, to catch up on homework, to slow down, to have fun, to do things I want or need to do, that I've allowed my weekends to slip out of my hands and into someone else's. Maybe all of the else's in the world are occupying my weekends. Me doing everything I might want to do anyway, but only because I've heard I should. It robs it of its pleasure.
This weekend is Thanksgiving. A big holiday that has always felt subdued for me. In a good way. I want to occupy this weekend. No pressure. I can do homework if I want. I can eat turkey or not eat turkey if I want. I can paint. I can get closer to my family and try to understand them. I can wake up early and watch the Thanksgiving Day parade, even if sleep sounds better when I'm trying to rise from my bed. It will be worth it in the long run. I like things like that.
I'm tired of letting expectations of what I should do ruin everything altogether. Maybe I'm crazy. I know I've got my anxiety. But, this weekend I'm going to attempt to forget about the "should"'s. They all contradict each other anyway. I'd rather live my own contradictions.
The picture is a screenshot from a music video on Youtube from a long time ago. No memory of which one. Isn't it dreamy?
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