I have extremely volatile days.
Last week my friend found a hat of mine that I had long since given up as lost. The return of my beanie prompted an immediate rush of glee which turned into a heady satisfaction that lasted the rest of the day.
A few nights later, I stayed up late and went through the next day in a dull haze. The headache behind my eyes made the world gray and drab; everyone in it, irritating. Neither event was particularly dramatic, but it seems that trivialities make or break my days.
Saying that I exist in a delicate balance of emotion sounds effete and pretentious. Might my life at least be determined by fortuity? I pride myself on being rational and pragmatic, but it feels like my days are largely defined by their most insignificant elements.
Today was not a good day, until I got home and made quesadillas with a friend as I burned her a CD. Why should that 30 minute event outweigh a six-hour school day of drudgery and boredom? It did, though...
rational owl blink.
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