Every weekday, I wait for the weekend.
Every weekend, I dread the weekdays.
On one day, Friday, weekdays are over and weekend is yet to arrive.
That one day, I’m the happiest with my emotions at a high.
It’s not about weekdays, but about work days.
I know I should be grateful for my Work days, as they enable the life I live.
Nevertheless, I continue to live only one day a week.
Is it worth it, I wonder; my work, the money I make traded for happiness.
My work obviously is not worth it, but I realize I’m looking at it the wrong way.
It’s not about whether my work is worth it, but about whether my stress over it is.
For if I consider life worth it, everything else will become worth living for, as it is.
