Good people, it is good to be alive. And healthy. It is good to have all my limbs, appendages and body organs intact. It is good that my family and friends are alive, hale and hearty as well. It is good that my dog still loves me, despite me yanking on her tail yesterday.
It is good that the weather is comfortable, not raining nor burning this morning. It is good that MTN hasn't fucked with my phone's reception in a while. It is good that the phone itself still functions, for I doubt I can still find the guy that sold it to me. It is good that today is some people's birthday, while some people will or have lost their lives today. There must be a balance.
It is good that the week has started, because it means the weekend is coming again. It is good that I rested properly this past weekend, for if I didn't, I would not be here saying the phrase 'it is good' umpteen times.
Gentlefolk, its all good, its alright. And now that I've shown a little bit of optimism and acknowledged all the good there is, I shall revert to the truth and leave La-La land.
I fucking hate Mondays. And the feeling is mutual. I nearly cried yesterday evening good people. The weight of the coming week suddenly fell on my shoulders. It was like being on death row, the day before you're to die. You know tomorrow is coming, you can do nothing to avoid it. You just sit there, anticipating the worst, hoping that it is over as quickly as possible.
Any of you who went to boarding school should know the feeling I'm talking about. Remember how it felt after a long and most awesome holiday. Then its time to go back. Everything is cool, you pack, hop in the car, and you still don't give a shit. You're all gangsta then. Then you catch sight of your school as you approach and all the hell confined within its walls suddenly hits you. All that gangsta abruptly vanishes. You are no longer 50cent. You're now a pussy. Scared, worried and just wanna go home.
Gentlefolk, back then, this feeling only happened 3, maybe 4 times in a year, depending on how many times your pussy ass ran away from school. Back then, 3 or 4 times a year wasn't so bad. It was manageable. This feeling happens to me every morning I go to work. Everyday of the week, it feels like I'm on deathrow.
My word, that's a bit much though. I'm starting to take this dislike of mondays too far. Deathrow?! This is past depressed, I'm leaning towards suicidal. But really, please, if anyone out there is on good terms with monday, tell her to stop it. I'm not playing anymore. She cannot continue setting booby-traps outside my house. Its just not cool. I'm tired of being bullied.
Good people, I wish you all a good day and week.
I am Womilee.
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