It’s a feeling I can’t put into words.
A feeling of newfound freedom, of choice, of possibilities.
A kind of freedom to laze around the house like an old sweatshirt.
Or the freedom to go out and waste away a night in a blurry haze.
The freedom’s all mine.
Thank god it’s Friday, right?
A momentary bliss that leads up to an existential numbness:
If this is what I look forward to all week, why aren’t all my days Fridays?
Sometimes it feels like the people who don’t look forward to vacations and weekends don’t exist.
Have you actually found what you love to do? Are you real?
Personally, the first day back from vacation for me involves booking a flight to the next destination. Otherwise, I’d just keel over and give into corporate depression.
Maybe I’m living the wrong life.
Or maybe I’m just too honest.
Or maybe I’m right and people like that really don’t exist.
Either way, I’m about to head out for a night that I hopefully won’t remember tomorrow morning!
(Picture credits: Pexels)
Read more such poems here.