happy friday

It is a Friday, a day on which the working class celebrates the impending momentary freedom from deadlines, heaps of paper work and fastidious bosses. The after-5pm nocturnal hours shall be burned with intoxication under the blinding lights in some party clubs in the city.

But you have a different case: this Friday does not induce any excitement. While you ache from the deadlines and paperwork and difficult bosses, your work does not end at 5 unlike that of other young professionals’; hence, you will continue toiling throughout the night until you get the work done. And in case luck finds you, and you manage to finish the tasks earlier than expected, still, you will not be spending the rest of the night with a beer in your hand because the mere thought of it already creates a bitter taste in your buds – you despise it. Also, the thought of being in a crowd, gyrating, sweating in some party house is far-flung from your idea of fun and relaxation.

Reading a book might do the trick. Or starting your The Flash Season 2 marathon could help you through this weekend. Or perhaps, a movie marathon could provide you the ease you need. But these do not excite you at all. Or probably, nothing does. Nothing will. Sleeping straight twelve hours could be painful in the head, too.

Then you realize how terrible your state has become. You have developed an excruciating repugnance towards work but are also clueless of what to do without it.

But you get down with reason: work feeds you and makes your wallet fat and healthy. Boredom can be painful to a degree but will not kill you anytime soon.

So you retract your conjecture. Your life is not bad at all. The glass is just half-empty.

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