Expectations weigh heavily on holiday weekends,
leaving me to feel like an abject failure.
I am just not enough.
The work week cannot come soon enough,
I need the time to keep my incompetence to myself.
Unkind words bounce and echo down the hallway;
I hate having my weaknesses (and there are many) discussed at the dinner table like the weather.
And like the weather, of which I have no control
(and nobody has any, more the pity);
I am unable to control the black mood that overtakes me,
each negative comment amassed during the interim piling on me, engulfing me,
much like the dark storm clouds engulf the sun in the sky, and the sky itself.
Tomorrow, the sun will shine again.
And even if it rains all day, my clouds will lift as I erringly falter through my day...
flawed creature that I am.