Bitter timing.

It's barely ten degrees out, I'm wearing two pairs of socks and a stolen hoody that is three sizes too big. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I stare out of my bedroom window wondering when everything changed. The sky is a murky sort-of grey, miserable-looking even. It's, for want of a better word, cold. Summer 2013 seems to be nothing more than a distant memory and its not even mid-September yet! With cans of Diet Coke and sheer, unadulterated desire to fuel my writing. 

Wednesdays are such glum, confusing days. A break that devides the two "first" days of the week from the others that are merely a countdown to the weekend. But today, it's different. It's as if there's someone up there altering the weather, as if its obvious. [Today is September 11th. You all know what significance that has, I won't insult anyone with a lengthy explanation. I'll just say this; thousands of people lost their lives 12 years ago to the day, innocent people who were only doing their jobs. May they rest in peace, and never be forgotten.] The bitterness is still there, the frostiness just around the corner, a tell-tale sign that winter is approaching. 

Usually, I'd have plans for the weekend right now. As of yet, at *checks watch* 

16:21, I have none. Zilch. This must change as a matter of urgency. Just saying. Weekends are meant to be fun-filled, or in my case, alcohol-filled.