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I could never, in Arthur Dent's words, "Get a hang of Thursdays."
Such an odd day; like a Tuesday only at the tail-end of the week. You're half expecting your teachers to say 'Have a nice weekend!', but they don't, and you're left with the feeling that you've forgotten something.
Not to say that all Thursdays are bad, just that they're strange, misplaced days. Personally, I mostly enjoy them. But it depends on my mood, and for whatever reason, my mood is at it's thickest or thinnest on those days.
Some Thursdays I can be as flightly and lighthearted as a butterfly wafting lazily through a summer pasture. Other Thursdays I am as intense as a hunted rabbit, on edge and ready to snap or flit away at the slightest movement. Then there are the Thursdays that I feel as sad as a woebegone, bedraggled sparrow perched on a rain-washed fence.
But whether I was a sparrow, a rabbit or a butterfly, a Thursday is a Thursday and still a day that we must live through.
- by Harold Q Poppinjay |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 01/12/2009 |
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- Title: Thursdays
- Artist: Harold Q Poppinjay
- Description: A drabble about a Thursdays, written on Thursday, and submitted on a Monday. Not mean't for anyone to like it, nor was it mean't for any reason at all. Take a gander.
- Date: 01/12/2009
- Tags: thursdaysthursdaydayemotionfeeling
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Comments (1 Comments)
- lollipopsy - 02/02/2011
- i like this. it's nicely written, it feels very true, too; though the last nine words seem a little out of place.
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