(no subject)
This is the story of a girl. A girl who, almost religiously, deletes her old journals to start over anew. With this said, it should be ironic that her name brings to most people's minds, not the beginning of something, but the middle. Of the week specifically. Wednesday in fact.
If I wanted to sound "deep" perhaps even go so far as to say "profound", I would say something like perhaps Wednesday, no matter how many times she deleted her past, was always beginning in the middle. But there I draw the line before I step over "profound" and into "cliche".
Yet today Wednesday was standing in the middle, hoping it was not the beginning of the end. She felt as though she no longer knew, up from down, right from wrong, or hello from goodbye. Or in this case, goodbye from goodnight.
And this is how Wednesday's middle became my beginning.
If I wanted to sound "deep" perhaps even go so far as to say "profound", I would say something like perhaps Wednesday, no matter how many times she deleted her past, was always beginning in the middle. But there I draw the line before I step over "profound" and into "cliche".
Yet today Wednesday was standing in the middle, hoping it was not the beginning of the end. She felt as though she no longer knew, up from down, right from wrong, or hello from goodbye. Or in this case, goodbye from goodnight.
And this is how Wednesday's middle became my beginning.