Thursdays make me feel like a hollow shell, like my left lung's collapsed, like the right side of my brain has lost it's function, like my third eye doesn't even exist. Why this phenomenon, I can't seem to use my scientific imagination to conjure up a theory and why my organs tend to randomly fail me on this specific day, I can't seem to settle on an answer to that. It's been somewhat clear to me, lately, that the occurrence of this phenomenon has nothing to do with the fact that I've simply hated Thursdays ever since I realized it's existence. Blatantly hating a day of the week never has anything to do with failure now, or does it? I don't know, I will never know and I don't plan on knowing. To be completely honest, I quite enjoy the misery that this sad little day called Thursday, brings me every week, without fail. I like feeling all in all, like my brain's been busted and like my body's been brutally abused, metaphorically speaking of course. Every other day brings so little excitement and all that predicted joy, it's painfully depressing sometimes, to realize that you actually go through a Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday expecting all this happiness and pleasure. It's, ironically, exciting to wait and see what's going to screw up for me on the upcoming Thursday and it's so satisfying to look back on that Thursday on a Friday morning and pretend to be all depressed and frustrated about it. Yes, these little uncertain, unpredictable but yet so predictably frustrating moments on a Thursday actually count for about one-quarters of the excitement I go through in my life. Sad, but true and certainly, not embarrassed, ashamed or feeling like a complete RJ Berger about it. Thursdays, ah, Thursdays, everybody else wears black on such a deceiving day but I'll wear white because I'm a complete asshole and I have to annoy, naturally.
Now playing: Joy Division - Disorder
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