Friday. Sweet merciful Friday. The past few days have been glorious and sun-filled. The weekend is predicted to bring the same kind of warmth and radiance.
There's a show tonight that I'll check out, to kickstart the weekend. It'll serve as a fun-filled defibrillator that'll resuscitate my failing sense of autonomy.
To spite my fate, I'll steal away with JK and find the mischief and ripened possibility hidden inside fermented grapes. We'll taste all the variations, letting them stain our tongues until they become a luscious red satin, then we'll wrap each other up in them.
I just remembered a dream I had last night. Well, not the dream so much, but the feeling it left upon waking: panic. There was an elevation in heartrate, a tightness in my chest - antifreeze running through my veins.
Perhaps panic is just excitation. They are indistinguishable, physiologically. It's funny how, through perception, the mind is able to polarize an identical physical phenomenon and split it into two opposite feelings - elated anticipation and ineluctable terror. The beautiful and the sublime.
I refuse to believe I was panicked. My mind must've misunderstood what my body was trying to say.
But then what of denial?
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