We meet again.
You understand that I (alongside multitudes of workers) particularly do not like you. You cut my weekends short. You punch me in the gut just when I was getting into the groove of the weekend. You remind me of that douche that squeezed me to the edges of the door of the FX I rode to work.
However, I understand that we need to bump heads in order to get the week rolling. I must pass your tests in order to get one step closer to the sanctuary of the weekend. You need to become my antagonist in order to help me live.
I know that I can ignore you all I want, but then my world will stop. My mind will dull, and I will be no different to the narrow-minded people that pollute the planet. You must punish me to help me become closer to the person I want to become.
When I look at you this way, you suddenly don’t seem so bad, after all. I shake your hand, Monday, for you are a necessary evil to the world. I look forward to the madness you will cause. I look forward to the incessant traffic that will clog the city’s arteries. I look forward to the frustration and exhaustion you will bring to me.
I know that you mean nothing but the best for me. Thank you.
P.S. I still fucking hate you, though.