Rainy Days And Mondays Always Get Me Down Mga Nobela at Kwento

Miranda POV Mondays are my least favorite day of the week. Not only do I have to wake up two hours earlier than on the weekend, but it also usually takes me half a day to get my mind back on track mentally with the language project. If I had any other job, it probably wouldn't take so long, however, the complexities of the dialectical differences are so important in my work, even a minor mistake could have disastrous results and could set us back months. Today is especially sucky since I know Joel is going through his parole interview and I am worried about the result.

A night full of partying would surely be much more fun if it didn't come with hangovers. I looked at the phone with squinted eyes and let out a sigh of frustration when I realized that I had to be at work today. Today was Monday. My least favorite day of the week, similar to the majority of people. Monday means that I had to go back to my dreaded work and finish unending tasks. As I closed my eyes and prayed for time to move slowly, I felt a cold arm slide over my abdomen, and that's when I realized that I wasn't alone in the room.

Heels were not her friends. Steam billowed over the shower door, drawing her into the small stall where she allowed the scalding water to beat her pale skin. She hung her head under the pulsing jet and allowed it to massage her brain into wakefulness. She hated Mondays. The weekend was free and unstructured, and the two of them made the most of each moment. Mondays always seemed to give her separation anxiety, and she struggled those first few hours against feeling lost.

DANIELLE'S P.O.V. I hated Mondays. I always had and always would. Monday mornings were the worst, and that particular morning was not an exception. Monday mornings were always slow and gloomy- somehow, the fun and merriment from the weekend always never managed to tell on or impact Mondays.

CLYONE I heave out a sigh as I turn my back on the balcony. I walked back inside and went straight to the door. Only my heavy steps and the creaking sound of the door breaks the silence that's prevailing the whole room. The past few months has been so depressing that I can't even recognize what a happiness is anymore. I wonder if I really came here to reminisce the euphoric moments which I hope would lighten up my mood or I just came here to torture myself? It's very tormenting. But I need to at least make the painful crying worth to cry for.

Anyway wayyy off topic, I love the subjects taught, the lunch break banter and most of all my girls so why the hell do I hate Monday's right ? Well it's the 'silly walking face first into the glass door, pouring juice into your cereal instead of milk, the oh shit wrong class and damn that was due today' shit for me. No matter how early I go to bed or how much preparing I do the sunday my monday always seem to go like this for me. The best part is being able to laugh at my stupid ass with my stupid ass friends. With a silent prayer to god to let this day for once just go my way before climbing into my now smooth running vehicle all thanks to James, making my way to school.

“It certainly won’t happen again because you’ll learn, starting now. Get out.” Janice bit her lips and got out of the car, ashen-faced. Just as she had steadied her footing, Mark’s car drove away and splashed a puddle of rainwater all over her. She did not go into the shade to avoid the rain but looked up at the countless droplets of rain falling from the sky. The dark, gloomy clouds mirrored her current emotional state. This was her most unlucky day. Her spirits had slipped into an all time low.

Sloane and I walked side by side, our steps light as we made our way toward the parking lot, relieved to be done for the day. “That class should be a sleep aid,” Sloane muttered, flipping her notebook shut with a snap. I chuckled. “At least we didn’t get randomly called to solve equations today.” “Bless God. He shone over us his light of salvation and grace,” she said. “Because I would’ve melted up there in shame.” “Stop it, Sloane,” I chuckled. “You’re way smarter than that.” “I know, but I feel way off today,” she sighed. “Maybe it’s because it’s Monday.”

It didn't help that the day was dull and overcast, matching my mood perfectly. Raindrops pattered against the window panes, tapping out a mournful rhythm. I tried to focus on work, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. I glanced at my coffee cup, but I couldn't bring myself to take a sip. It had gone cold, the once steaming liquid now tepid and unappealing. With a sigh, I pushed the cup aside and leaned back in my chair, lost in my thoughts once more. The rain continued to fall, drumming against the roof and windows like a persistent reminder of my inadequacy. I felt powerless, as though I were a ship adrift in a stormy sea, tossed and turned by the winds o

I know I have been delayed, but the low sales of my sandwiches are not making things easier. Yesterday, it rained, and a cyclist crashed into my small stand and just rode off, leaving me alone. I can’t help but burst into tears, silently crying, as I picked up all the wasted, soggy sandwiches, feeling hopeless and alone, with no one to turn to. The weight of all my responsibilities crashed down on me just as the rain continued to pour that day. It was as if the sky was crying along with me, sympathizing in a way no one would understand.