Wednesdays

Today was Wednesday.  And while it may mean absolutely nothing to you or him or anyone else who has or is or may one day impact my life somehow, Wednesdays hold a place for many special moments and memories and events and experiences for me.  For us.  Him and I.  Both back when we were us and even now that we are nothing publicly but still technically something.

If you ask him, he probably wouldn't have any reason or couldn't be able to relate us to Wednesdays or any other day or month, I am sure of it.

And that's okay, I don't blame him.  Of course, I rarely blame him for anything at all, even if he may be worthy of it.  But it's just me and my ways of using the planets or God or destiny or the natural force of the universe to connect the days of the week and random numbers and colors to me and my life and my relationships.  Most of you probably wouldn't understand.

Wednesday is Hump-Day.  It's the middle of the week, the half-way point, it's either empty or full or positive or negative, or however the hell you perceive life.

But for us, Hump-Day has a dual meaning.  And I don't much care how you interpret that.  It's a double-edged sword.  Bittersweet, it's green on the vine.  You know, Strawberry Wine.  Even if, on that particular Wednesday, I was only sixteen, instead of Deana Carter's alleged seventeen years.

I am not entirely positive that what I'm saying makes sense.  Wednesdays themselves are bittersweet.  They are the firsts and lasts and the starts and the beginnings of a lot of stuffs and things.  They contain good things and bad things, so in that way, I'm sure you can agree.  The word Hump-Day has a personal double meaning, so what?  So if Hump-Day is also known as Wednesday then it is therefore a symbol of both happiness/pain possessing an epithet that can have various definitions.

Wednesdays, according to a honey-loving bear, are blustery days.  And although the wind didn't blow too hard today, and probably didn't show last Wednesday or even the one before that, I would have to agree.  Now it is the word Wednesday, not its pseudonym "Hump-Day," that has a multi-purposeful name.  Wednesday = Windsday vs. Wednesday = Humpday.

What I think I'm saying is, no small breeze or large tornado or hurricane or twister or rustling of the wind can contribute to either the destruction or perhaps improvement that an ordinary, plain-ol', blustery Windsday can produce.

Windsday was our last day.  The very day I was told I couldn't see him anymore.  It was a Wednesday that has stopped me dead in my tracks, delaying my life, and forcing me to pursue something that I am not allowed to pursue.  And it's ohhh-soooo dramatic, is it not?  Windsday sucks.  Period.

I think that Wednesday is the overall term for the days which I am describing.  But Windsday is that bad form, and Hump-Day is the good form.  Yet another battle of good and evil, happiness and pain, positive and negative, and empty and full.  Did you get that?  I didn't, not until now.  I love it when this shit helps me sort all this other shit out.

Wednesday, neither Windsday or Hump-Day in this instance, even if the following may be good, was our date day.  It was sentimental and bliss.  I guess it does fall under the category of a Hump-Day, but it simply isn't, because only certain days can qualify, due to its name.  I'm sure you get it.  Let me explain: Hump-Days can occur on date days, but not the other way around.

All in all, Windsdays and Hump-Days and Wednesdays were our days.  And you might not care and you'll most likely forget, and for now, all Wednesdays will be Windsdays and I cannot finish or determine where those days stand with me until they return to Hump-Days.

That's all I really want.