i will not leave this weekend.
i will stare at my ceiling just like good old times.
i will get bored. and then i’ll start staring at the posters on the wall across my bed.
then, i’ll turn the music down because it will be after midnight. and then i’ll walk barefoot, outside, in my veranda. i’ll turn my eyes to the sky and smile…or cry, depending on the day i had.
then, water my plants. clear up the dried up leaves. and throw them away.
i’m not going anywhere this weekend.