I woke up at ten, Friday morning, feeling like I’d been punched in the back of my eyes. Still, I smiled, because today was Good Friday; I was free and the opportunities were limitless. I planned to eat a great breakfast, go for a run, find true love, pet a dog and cure my depression, in that order. That morning, for at least the first ten minutes, I was looking forward to the day.

With that kind of energy, I could’ve taken over the world. I just had to decide where to start. A cold shower was obvious, every motivational montage had one. But after… I needed coffee, so I’ll hit up Tim Hortons. And I always wanted to try the bakery on 36th, so that’s breakfast sorted.

The plan was short, simple and comprehensive. I’ll take a quick shower, take my meds, then head out. First, I’ll hit up Timmy’s and order a medium double-double. “Good morning,” I’d say, “I’ll have a coffee with two sugars and two creams-” no, that’s no good, way too formal.

“‘Morning, my dude! Bean me, fam-” no, that won’t work either…

Ten minutes later, I had all my lines down. First, I’ll break the ice with a friendly “‘morning,” then go for the finishing blow: “I’d like a double-double, please.”

Coffee in hand, I’d walk to 36th and enter the bakery- wait, would they allow drinks indoors? They totally won’t, what business lets you take other places’ products inside? I’m too dumb to live. New plan: I’ll walk home, drop my coffee off, walk to the bakery, then… No that’s not going to work, people will stare. “What an idiot,” they’ll say, “he could’ve made both trips in one. What a stupid, useless, leaching waste of skin. What a spoiled, ungrateful…”