I hate the weekends.

You might think I’m crazy, and that’s fine, but I do. I hate them. The weekend has too much unstructured free time. And when I have too much free time, I have too much time to think. My mind starts asking itself questions, reflecting on every single life choice it has been a part of up until this point.

Should I have stopped playing baseball?

Why didn’t I go to a traditional four-year college? Will I regret that decision forever?

*I feel like it’s time to change jobs again. I should change jobs huh?*

*Why am I such a loser…*

and so on and so on.

I’ve noticed it only happens on the weekends though. The thoughts start entering in the morning, just about when I’m going to wrap-up my reading and start making breakfast and am paralyzed by the choices I have to make. Do I block off a few hours and read more of my book? There are those house projects I have to get done, maybe I should do those instead? Oh, let me check Twitter. Oh cool, someone posting about how much money they made last month or how many followers they got, that’s exactly what I needed to see right now (not).

The uncertainty of the day riddles me with anxiety. I constantly ask myself how I should pass the time, but no answer seems right. So, then I get onto a delusional rant inside my head about how much of a loser I am. What, I’m being honest?

*Did I waste my potential?*

Ah, that’s something I’ve never thought about before. My potential. Is that what this feeling is? Do I somehow think I have unmatched ambition or am wasting my potential? Maybe.

Or maybe I’m just impatient. Watching and wishing the success and grind that took every one else a decade would magically happen to me in three years. Why do I think that? Oh it’s just because I’ve seen it happen to a dozen people on the internet. One day: nothing. The next: they are retweeted left and right and getting asked to come on other people’s podcasts. Why the hell can’t that be my potential?