The long weekend has finally come, 4 straight days with no work, and I couldn’t be any more of a piece of shit than I am right now.

Is the light from my window beginning to reach my eyes? No, that’s the artificial light from the lamp beside my bed. Should that make such a difference in how I start my day? I would like to be greeted by something a little more comforting than this light that is a lie. It shouldn’t mean anything to me, no, but still I find it a little bit more than upsetting. Disturbing. Unsettling. How can we as a people be happy with such false artifacts, false signs of life, surrounding us in our daily lives? The real can wait behind the security and convenience of the fake. Fake, like their smiles in the face of their flickering false lights, burning fluorescent light bulbs that line the ceilings of the bars and basements. Fake. How do I know if what I am feeling is nothing more than a false light, a fake…