Dear Monday, We’re Done 💔

Every Monday feels like a bad prank. One second it’s Sunday night peace, next thing I know— my alarm’s screaming like it’s proud of it. I stare at my uniform like, “Bro, weren’t we just free yesterday?” Math at 8 a.m. should count as cruelty. Even my pen’s like, not today. By lunch I’m half-alive, zoning out while pretending to listen. Someone says “good morning,” and I just… blink. Mondays shouldn’t be part of the week. They should come with a warning label.