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…

To say that June 2015 was one of the saddest months of my life would be the understatement of this millennium. 
Every morning, waking up was sheer torture. Whenever my eyes flew open, I used to have this strong urge to stay there, in my bed forever. I used to stare at the ceiling and I used to desperately wish to stay at home. 
But, since I had my German class to go to, I had to literally force myself to get up, dress up and show up. 
My German class was all the more torturous. I never talked to anybody, except to ask about what's going on. I used to constantly get zoned out, stare into the empty space and just think: I'm in so much deep trouble. 
I felt like I'd failed everybody, especially myself. 
I used to write in my diaries, constantly write about how much I'd drawn into a shell, constantly write about how upset I was with the way things turned out and all I wanted to do was things to turn out well. 
But, as the days passed, I realized that I hated being sad all…

Scars scattered on my skin,
Pain storming deep within,
Yet, I am proud to say,
I'm a survivor; 
Catcalls are a norm,
Yet I don't wish to conform,
To the societal rules,
Because I'm a survivor; 
I've seen life at its worst,
I've been through so much that I could burst,
But I won't let them be satisfied,
Because I'm a survivor; 
They say I'm alone,
They think I am prone,
To fall into the shadows called depression;
Oh I'm a survivor; 
They say I'm a poor child,
They say I'll run away wild;
But I won't do anything as such,
Because I'm a survivor; 
They say I'm sugary sweet,
They say I'm a sheep that'll bleat;
Oh they are sadly mistaken,
Because I'm a survivor; 
To you, I may look like harmless,
To you, I may look characterless,
But I'm a fighter through and through;
Life's hit me with a lot of punches,
But you must remember, my darling,
I'm a survivor; 
I don't know,
Whether I'm high or am I low,
What matters the most is,
I…

Something I wrote a long, long time ago. I hope you can relate to this, dear reader! 

Your dreams are,  Vivid like reality and  They are so, so far;  They race in your mind,  Instead of stopping,  They continue to rewind! 
You slog all night, You put up a good fight,  But there's no one to see,  To see you do your duty; 
You pay heed,  You put passion,  That burns brightly like fire,  Over the thing you so dearly desire; 
You're still dreaming,  Lost in your own little utopia,  Until a few words,  Transform it into a dystopia; 
You come to know,  That the thing you crave,  Won't be yours,  But of someone else; 
You feel as though,  It's all a gigantic lie;  You feel so, so,  Utterly destroyed; 
All the sweat you put in,  All the love you showered in,  All the passion you utilised in,  Was just a waste of time; 
Now, your dreams are,  Shattered like broken glass and,  Will always be so, so far;  They will always race in your mind, Always haunt you,  And won't stop &…

A few pointers before you start reading this:  a) It's a mixture of blank verse and your typical rhyming-schemed poem. b) It's highly unedited.  c) It's kinda based - sorry, totally based - on a true story. 
I remember a time,  Where there were a few,  I slavishly adored,  And one of them was you;
I was a silly little girl,  Searching for an idol,  And there you were -  Pretty, introverted and rib-ticklingly funny! 
I remember boasting,  About your greatness;  I remember toasting,  Your many a success; 
I was a little peacock,  Only not as wondrous looking;  And you were the rain,  Giving me pure, unadulterated joy! 
But days passed,  Faster than a ray of light; Seasons changed,  And unfortunately, so did you; 
You became more beautiful,  You became more confident,  You became more popular,  You became someone I didn't know; 
The last time I saw you,  You weren't the sweetheart that you used to be;  You weren't the person I used to worship, day and night;  Now…

Your looks aren't angelic,
Yet, you seem happy, not tragic;
You're street-smart,
But not as brilliant as Einstein; 
There is nothing,
Particularly dark about you;
I see you wake up,
I see you live your life; 
But I do not see your demons,
Clawing your insides,
Nagging you to do things,
Which will harm you; 
The room's dark,  You're all alone,
Protected from the cold,
Unprotected from your inner monsters; 
They come one after the other,  Slowly growing  more vicious;
The sad part is,
You cannot stop them; 
First comes fear,  A cold feeling in your heart,  Colder than the weather; Your fear is rejection,
Rejection from your family,
Rejection from your peers; 
Second arrives jealousy,
The most satanic of your demons;
You start envying everyone,
Including the ones you love; 
Then, hatred seeps in,
A burning intense feeling,
Which makes you feel disgusted,
About everything in your life; 
But the worst isn't over yet;  The sadness that comes,
It cannot be stopped;
You start crying silently,
Tr…