Wednesdays are different from Thursdays. But some Wednesdays and Thursdays are more different. In a lot of ways, things have changed. In a lot of ways they haven’t. Some, probably never will.

This Wednesday wore the same colors as that Thursday. Yet it was a thousand times darker. The sky leaked at about the same time this morning too. But today, the wind bit in with a lot more spite. The wind, and a thousand other things with it. I looked into the mirror in the morning, as I did then. And I still liked and hated the same things. Just some more and some less. Some about myself, some about others. The world still radiated forth an idea that it was slowing down and would soon stop spinning, so I might be able to make some sense. But it has kept on keeping on through all these years. Back then, they wouldn’t pay me enough to work. Today they couldn’t pay me enough to care. The smell and the feeling of today was all too familiar. And not just in a good way.

I was stupid then. I don’t know about now. Then, I thought actions spoke louder than words. But now I think doing is overrated. You never have to do if you can say the right words. Unfortunately, words and I never got along. My parents never taught me to not talk to strangers. Now, after several lessons from non-convalescence, I learned that strangers have a way of making you smile, then feeding off your soul, and leaving you depleted. I know better than to make others' problems my own. That's why I wore fresh lavender then. And that's why I'd rather wear gray now.

This is a lot less closer to my dream. Maybe because reality is just another word for imperfection and wrongness. Or maybe because 5 years on, this is a Wednesday and that was a Thursday.