Again, it's Monday. I wake up to the screeches of my mother, alerting me to the start of another school day. I groggily get out of bed, and change from my pajamas into a pair of jeans and a hooded green sweatshirt. I then put on my coat and morosely enter my mother’s car. If it was up to me, I’d never go to school again. But my mother says that everyone has to work to survive, and going to school is my job. As I look outside the window, I notice we passed by three local playgrounds, two arcades, a GameStop, and a billboard advertising Six Flags. I wish we were going to any of those places. Resigned to my fate, I enter school and sluggishly walk to my first period class.
Today, I dealt with an hour-long lecture on emperor penguins, classmates demanding things I didn’t have, and again, having nowhere to sit for lunch. I got a lot of homework from my teacher again today: 10 worksheets total, across 4 different school subjects. Does she really think we can do all this in one day?
When I return home, my brother is there for me as always. He smiles and hugs me, and we get to our homework. He finishes it faster, and waits patiently for me to finish so we can talk about our day. Unfortunately, by the time I'm finished, it's well beyond my bedtime. So I just bid him and my parents goodnight and climb into bed, dreading again the events of tomorrow. Just gotta wait until I grow up, then I won’t have to live like this anymore.
Again, it’s Monday. I wake up to the screeches of my alarm clock, alerting me to the start of another work day. I groggily get out of bed, and change from my pajamas into a pair of high heels and a formal green dress. I then put on my coat and morosely start my old car. If it was up to me, I’d never go to work again. But my mother always said that everyone has to work to survive, and this is my job now.
As I drive, I look straight ahead, seeing nothing but the endless stream of other cars. I imagine the people driving in them. Is that truck driver a billionaire, going incognito in his work clothes and scruffy beard? Is the driver of the police car on the prowl, looking for a fight? Or are they hoping for a peaceful day? Is the teenager driving in front of me playing hooky? Or are they all like me, living lives of quiet desperation? Eventually, I arrive at the building I’ve seen every day for the past 10 years. Resigned to my fate, I enter the office and sluggishly clock in. Today, I dealt with long and boring meetings, coworkers demanding time I didn’t have, and, again, not being able to peacefully take a lunch break. My boss started more projects that I'll have to finish again: I estimate I’d have to spend an extra 40 hours to get them done. Does he think I can do this all in one week?
When I return home, my husband is there for me as always. He smiles and gives me a kiss, and I go to work on some of "my" projects while my husband makes dinner. He finishes faster, and patiently waits for me to be done so that we can eat together. Unfortunately, by the time I'm done, it's well beyond midnight. So I just pack up the food for tomorrow's lunch, kiss my husband goodnight, and climb into bed, dreading again the events of tomorrow.
I'm just glad that it won't be Monday.