Bad luck days are not really bad luck

In college, I used to think Fridays were the worst. I had the worst days.

I would wake up—something horrible would happen. Maybe I burn my food and it would be disgusting. Or that I miss the bus by a minute and I can see it pulling away.

Then it would collapse into having a fight with a friend. A spat with a lover. Or my manager yelling at me.

I would lose something. Over pay something. Get shafted at a store. Receive a bad grade.

At the end of the Friday, I would declare to myself—always bad luck, every Friday is the 13th.

Yet they are just events. They are just purely events. It is simply that I lost my keys and that’s ok. It’s unrelated to the fact this evening’s unexpected argument. It’s not the reason that I dropped a precious plate at my friend’s house. No causation or correlation.

So then, I will not say I had a bad day.

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