October 2nd is my personal doomsday. It seems like any other day. Nothing special about it. But it keeps proving to be cursed. Usually I don't remember October 2nd until the day before it's upon me and I start to get honestly and deeply concerned.
I don't think I've ever had a normal October 2nd (in my whole life). My first October 2nd I was close to death sitting in a hospital incubator, and my last October 2nd I threw my back out and was bed-ridden for a week and a half. Scattered in-between those have been quite a few other terrifying, sickening, and gore-filled October 2nds.
Not all of them have been horrible like that though. I've had GREAT ones too... awesomely-great! Great to the point of life-changing! For example, I went into the MTC on October 2nd. See, that's good, right? right? ...it's just the recent (and more frequent) bad ones that make me expect the worst.
Maybe I do it to myself. Maybe it's my own worrying that makes it awful, or my own counter-efforts that make it great. It's more fun to think, though, that somewhere out there, there still lives a gypsy woman, angry and dirty in a run-down mansion, living alone with only bugs and bats as company, and that years ago she cast some sort of spell on my mother while she was pregnant with me.
I dunno. But please, please pray for me this October 2nd. PLEASE!