Another day of school that rises from the week to be experienced in a moment, and then falls back into the forgotten days. These sorts of days never begin and never end; they are lived, but never remembered, lost in the crowd of experiences that didn't matter, don't matter, and never will matter. Like so many rectangles in a false brick wall - never acknowledged except as a whole, and never touched lest we realize how artificial they are.
But the strangest thing about these sorts of days is that even as they don't matter, even as they disappear without a thought, they do matter. Even as I'm drifting through classes, mindlessly interacting with my classmates, I am still there, thoughts consciously sifting through and organizing all fo the information I'm hearing. Even though my thoughts aren't profound, and my words are massively forgettable and totally unimportant, it's still me. These empty, spacey days are my life - pushing at me, pulling at my mind, and changing me when I'm not looking.
Each second that opens seems the most important, and when it closes the most insignificant. Each day, when it ends, seems real and momentous, but almost every one of these supposedly memorable days has been erased. My memory is not a timeline with each event laid out one after another. It is a patchwork of hastily selected experiences basted together, vainly waiting for someone to force it to last forever.
It's hard because you know, in the end, Wednesdays will simply be forgotten. They aren't necessarily bad, and they aren't necessarily good - they just are. But I want to remember them all. I want every single day to be important not only while I'm living it, but when I look back on it. I want to be able to look back on it. I wish every day could be more than a day, more than just life. Sometimes, just life seems so boring. Sometimes, life is like Wednesdays, coming and going before you've turned your head, and forgotten before you've realized it's happened.
Today? Today was Wednesday.
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