A Bundle Of Contradictions

Describe each day of the week as if it were a person. Give each one a name, age and job.

46-year-old Monica Frost was a career woman. She was constantly driven by the need to excel in her job. Her job had made her sacrifice her family – she had put her mother in an old-age home and divorced her husband around the same time.

Monica was so obsessed with her job as a marketing analyst that she had no regret about throwing away her family. 

Monica’s only friends were her laptop and her office chair. No one invited her to their house parties. She had never been inside a club – even in her teens. 

Monica could not think of a day where she had relaxed and let go. She hardly remembered the day when she’d last left her high-rise apartment and gone on a vacation. She couldn’t think of a day when she’d had a complete meal, not a burger from a fast-food joint near her apartment. She hardly remembered the day when she’d had a full night’s sleep.

But then again, Monica was too busy to think of such thin…

A few words before I begin with the main subject:
I'm not here to preach about how one must live his or her life. People, I'm just as confused as you are. I just wanted to tell you about how I (try to) define 'life'. 
I hope you guys would love to share your inputs with me. 
***
What do I make of the word life? 
I think it's a very complicated mess.  
I think I can (somewhat) try to explain it by connecting it with a road map. 
(Well, everyone does say that life is a long road trip) 
When you're born, it's really simple. You're walking down a straight lane, a metaled road. There are no bumps and you know what you're heading for. 
Slowly, as you reach your teens, little bumps start forming on that supposedly metaled road. By the time you are sixteen or eighteen, the seemingly straight road is divided into a variety of other roads. You need some time to think what's the best suitable path for you. 
After choosing that path, you're walking. In…

What happened to those days? Days of fun, days of joy, How did they really disappear? Will they ever reappear?
It’s like a car’s taking a nasty turn, It’s like we’re in for a scarring burn; Yet all of us are the ones, who are on the brink, It’s like if we jump off the cliff, We might sink, Deep into the ocean; Or even better, we might soar into the air, Floating towards the sun; We don’t know what’s scarier;
Some of us are forced upon, Some of us aren’t, We don’t know what is more oppressive; Confusion has coiled around us in a web; It’s like if we’re on the brink, It’s like we’re standing at the edge of a cliff, If we fall, we might sink, Into the deep, dark ocean…
This is a tenderer age, Far more delicate than childhood, Passions rise and fall, Just like the temperature; This is the stage of rebel, Or is it the stage to be restrained?
Some are controlled like canaries in a cage, Some are let out like wild crows oh-so-savage;  It’s maddening, You don’t know what to think You don’t know what to say,
Ou…