February is a short month anyway.

You know how you work full time and you don't sleep that great and you just always have things to do (or else you purposefully don't have things to do, and you are still EXHAUSTED), and then it comes to Friday and you get home and you're like, "FREEEEDOMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" ???? And you sit down on your lovesac with your crocheting and catch up on all your sitcoms and the best of Jimmy Fallon from the week, and then you realize you are hungry, so you stick a spaghetti squash in the oven and eat some ice cream and cookie butter while you are waiting (for a whole hour), and then you do the dishes, chat with your roommate, and it's still only 9:00pm, and you think WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE???

I should have had a plan B for the evening. I should have at least tried to make plans. I really only needed like 2 hours to unwind, not 6.

For real.

And now I'm just sitting, thinking about my life and what I want, and usually the only thing I think of is  to write.

And so I write a bunch of nonsense, because I really have nothing and everything to say, and it's one of those times when my brain just feels like it's going in circles and can't really pick one thing to think because there's just too many things. And then I worry that I won't sleep because of all the things. And then I realize I've probably been alone for too long, but being around people doesn't sound desirable either. And it's late anyway. And then I just want my mom.

But then through all of it, the thought pervades: tomorrow I will wake up and have good things to do. Places to be and people to see and I have another chance to be productive and be motivated and accomplish what I want to.

And then I wonder why I beat myself up so much over spending some time by myself and just taking a chill pill. Why do I feel guilty when I stay in on a Friday night and do basically nothing? Why do I feel judged when my roommate comes home and sees me watching TV? Why do I need to explain myself and/or have to talk myself into thinking that it's okay, that I'm okay? Why do I feel like I need to be doing something social, and have the approval of others, and create new stories to tell, to feel worthwhile and productive? Why isn't doing a craft and making a healthy dinner and doing the dishes and all my laundry enough for a Friday night?

Is it because I operate on a tight schedule of activities and events that I have scheduled for myself or other people schedule for me, and when there is a gap in that schedule, I am relieved, but then just get WAY TOO overwhelmed when that gap is too long? Or because I've just been taking too many time-outs lately, and I'm actually getting bored? (but I'm so tired! All the time!) Or is it the singular fact that I planned on going to the gym, but then I didn't, and that makes me a complete failure at life?

It's just that brain, running around in circles again.