Workaholics

I always resent being called one. It's Easter weekend and I'm beginning to slowly believe that maybe, I am. Most people rejoice in the fact of having a full long weekend to themselves, to have quality time spent with friends and family. I rejoiced, too -- until one night came and I realised that I didn't know what to do with myself when I have no work. I have friends, family but I just don't feel like hanging out with them. Sad. PATHETIC. I know.

Apparently it's a common problem among us, the twenty somethings. We crave work and spent hours working to justify our existence as if we always have something to prove. I don't. I don't think so, at least. I work because I like it. And that's where it becomes dangerous. How does one draw the line of doing something out of love and doing something because it's the only way they can feel loved? Some kind of self-gratification? Again, I'd say that I belong in the first category but there are people out there who can not differentiate the two. Work can be some form of escapism; similar to that of a holiday, and other extra curriculer activities. It's oh so easy to blame work, use it as an excuse.

As one member of the twenty somethings club, I long for intelligent conversations, plenty of travels and worldly experiences. Work should be means to an end. I just have to be careful. The line is getting very blurred.