INCOMPLETE STORIES HIT DIFFERENTLY
The alarm sounds like it's "ding dong" and I rise in the full energy of the morning. It's another day to witness a morning where white and black triumph over every other color under the sky. Today's going to be Monday morning for real.
As soon as I'm done with my 'Jesus’ hour', I take a long walk inspecting the damages the night must have caused while I rested in the bosom of the one who gave his beloved sound sleep. I danced down to the tune of Sia's Chandelier—this week was gonna be great. Trust me!!
Let's move to the kitchen, where we pick the easiest thing to make for breakfast because Monday morning was for fitness. It was here I learned how to dance and it was here I danced to an imaginary audience cheering my abilities to dance and sing so breathlessly...Life's all good on a Monday morning. It takes a different energy that Friday does not carry. It's the energy of rest from the weekend - the energy that won't be expanded till Wednesday.
As I brush, I stare directly into the eyes of the most dazzling creature on earth. Who could imagine life on earth without a creature like me? It's the moment I admire everything about me, including the scars I could never erase; it's the time when I truly see myself for who I am..." strip."
The shower feels so refreshing and carries the energy Monday carries. It's neither a cold nor hot bath. It's there I remember so many beautiful memories, where I say my morning prayers again, where I list the things to do, where I make the best resolutions that may never be carried out, and most importantly, where my highest notes can be heard as I try to match the notes of my favorite artist for the week.
Let's dress very steadily and quickly. Pick up your best black cover shoes. Put on your white shirt and black trousers because sadly or not, you happen to be among the many on the street who paint the road white and black on a corporate Monday morning. The only issue is that yours is accompanied by a briefcase that could be robbed even in broad daylight because of its huge deceptive size. You get very judgemental about it until...until...you see that man with a casual cross bag and you just know that truly, you're on a big level so you have to become more confident of the gigantic briefcase.
Pluck in your earpiece, put solemn music so you don't act mad on the street (When I say this, refrain from songs like "Agalliao" on the streets), pack your hair properly, pick up your bag, say goodbye to everyone in the house and hit the street, ready to begin your day and week with faces that looked strained on Friday, but would be a lot brighter today.
It's Monday and it feels like the most energetic day of the week, not until you walk into your workplace and realize you're in for serious business because the office you're in is not air-conditioned as you assumed in your head neither are the shirts of coworkers beside you as fresh as yours because they all stink and smell of sweat that is transitional and a communicable disease because of the air-tight atmosphere.
Nonetheless, I patiently wait to return with a white shirt stained with a little brown here and there. Above all, I patiently wait to hit my bed and transition into a day with less stress and more fun - (proceed to pick the next deal from a client).
I know you're waiting for the end of the story. That's it!
Yes! That's all!
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