Monday Mourning

Monday mornings.

Public transit.

Bumping into old friends from high school that you’d really rather not have.

Social anxiety.

Ex-girlfriends who still haven’t forgiven you for dumping them just because you were starting fresman year at university and wanted to be available for all the young rich white girls.

People you see and pass everyday.

It’s Monday morning and you’re headed to work.

Just one of many like you working a job they are unhappy with.

And still we rise every morning, determined to get to work where our bosses expect us jump through hoops and smile as if we could not be happier to do it.

We go to bed early sunday night, wake up early monday morning, make breakfast and pack lunch.

We do all that is necessary to continue in our unhappy lives but will do next to nothing when it comes to fulfilling our dreams.

And so dreams remain just that, never finding their way into reality.

On the train they read prayer books; probably asking god for the strength not to go psycho postman on everybody in the office they are about to spend the next 8 hours in.

Some read newspapers, mystery novels, others do word and number puzzles.

Students study for their monday morning test.

I wonder if their will ever be a day when my monday morning is one I can’t wait to wake up for.

I know that I won’t unless I put the effort into actualizing my dream and not the stupid things that help us (those caught up in the rat race) continue with the illusion of comfort brought by routine.


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