My kind of life.
Sometimes, I wonder how I was able to get through every day. From waking up in the morning, thirty minutes commuting, the same road, same street, same faces in the workplace. It’s so mundane that I could no longer feel the excitement like the first time I was thrown into the adventure. A repeated day makes me unable to recognize the difference between today and yesterday, and yet I am trying grateful for the same reason, thinking it would be just okay?
This morning I whispered and beg to God to give me just a one good day that I would never ever forget. A day that would change my life for the better sake. A day that would be different from last day. A day that would help me to see the brighter side, that my hope will rise from this dubious ordinary day.
It’s five in the afternoon already, and I’m still waiting for my one good day.