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There’s something about the weekend that renders all my abilities of foresight useless. I wake up early regardless of how much sleep I get, feel a stiffness unfamiliar to me just a year ago, and wonder why my eyes feel so flush.

It’s not that I’m old. I’m only 25. But I still feel like now that I’ve crossed some imaginary threshold it’s as if my brain is working in a different way and reads different signs differently. I forget things if I don’t keep them immediately present and sometimes it can be a nuisance.

But then again it could just be the flow of energy, and, by extension, the flow of energy importance. Like if I was set on staying diligent with one task but a separate responsibility inserted itself into my narrative I don’t think I could pick with got precedence. The universe works itself out towards the end it’s going toward and while that sounds vague it’s just sort of an abstract way of saying it all works out.

The issue is when we get caught up in ideas about what working out means. If we want our own end then we have to work toward it, but that end is never guaranteed. We can work hard to railroad our opportunities but that just makes the inevitable derailment that much more catastrophic.

This is a long way of me saying that I got caught up in the bliss of the day to post this on time and while it’ll probably fuck up my numbers for a couple days I’m trying not to let it get me down.

Love you mom, dad, sis, kitty, Amelia, Marie


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