Blue, as dark as possible

Sunday afternoon. The most depressing moment of the week. Awhole weekend that hasn`t been "used" properly. A whole week to come full of tedious duties: school, work, housework, and the list goes on.
Sunday afternoon. Fricking thoughts that want you to chase them. You just can`t stop thinking, and yet that you would be uncapable of expressing even one of them clearly.
Sunday afternoon. People coming and going in a hurry, as usual. Everybody has something to do. And they talk. The house is the shelter where all those familiar, known voices (their voices) get lost in echoing sounds. No one listens. It doesn`t matter anyway. All the important things have been already said.
Sunday afternoon. Suddenly you wonder: what would be your friends doing right now?; would they also be feeling as blue as you do? There is wind outside. You would go out to feel it in your face, but you are afraid that someone might notice you are here, and then you would have to listen to things that frankly you are not interested at. You should stay here. What is the first thing that comes to your mind at this moment? Different thoughts, all tied up. Try an image. A tree. A majestous tree that has lost all its leaves. Children have climbed it so many times and now it`s ruined. When you think more carefully about it, you fell a little bit like that tree. Someone took away tour youth before time, your strenght and no remains are good enough to start over.
Sunday afternoon. Back to reality. Again, people, voices, and a strong sensation: tears come down your cheeks and you can`t stop them. It would be great to let them be, but someone approaches. You are drawning inside, crying and screaming so loud and so hard, that your throat hurts. But you wipe your face, smile and get ready to show and sell that fake image that everybody buys. Hear that? The tree has just broken down.

Thoughts

Ther is a big tree from where I can see. I can see everything I want: yellow, happy faces; blue, sad faces; long and short hair; jewellry. I see what the others can`t. I`m invisible and no one realizes. Nobody notices me and that`s good. It`s nice to be a ghost. I think all the time. Think of the past, of the things I should have done. I think of the future and I can see the black clouds that approach dangerously. I don`t want them to touch me, but I know they will, eventualy. At some point, they`ll get me, and by then it won`t matter matter how much I scream and ask for help. It`s useless anyway. Ghosts can`t talk and they can`t be heard. The world will be the same though. Nothing will change. Nobody will know that a ghost is no longer here. and that tree will loose enough leaves to get the attention of another ghost. He will know what to do. He will have the chance that this one never had. And the flowers will be so bright, and the people will be so happy, and shiny and transparent. The day that single ghost comes to that tree, the whole world will be better, and that`s why I`m asking, begging you, don`t force things. Go away and I`ll show you, in the distance, the many good things that are there, hidden from the rest. Everywhere. Please,go. Just leave, and I`ll find you. I promise you I will. I`ll know where you are. I`ll see you again some day. And when I do, I`ll have the courage to demonstrate you that there was something good on me. After all, I`m just a ghost, am I not?

Speaking of terrible days!

Monday. The worst day of the week. I wake up on my own just to find out that I`m late, `cause during the night the alarm clock was unplugged. I get up as soon as I realize what day is it. 7.03. I still have time. While I`m getting dressed, I draw a mental picture of all the things I need to carry with me: keys, bus ticket, money, watch. I can`t find the bus ticket. I know I had it on my hand just a minute ago. Where is it, for Crhist`s sake? Oh, it`s on the table. I see my puppies and I understand that I must feed them before I leave. I go out with their food, and I see with horror that they have had fun tearing down the today`s newspaper. Bad puppies! My mom`s gonna kill me! OK. Another thing to remember: buy a newspaper. Finally I leave home, and as I`m getting to the bus stop, the fricking bus comes along, completely empty (!) That`s all right, I say to myself. The next one will be here in just 25`... Every single person of my neighbourhood gets on. 7.59. It also seems like the bus driver (who is always on a hurry) has decided today to slow down, and drives as if he was driving the train of the fun fair! At this point I`m hysterical. Oh no! The boy I secretely love has just gotten on. Why is this happening to me? Iget so stupid when he is around... 8.20. Almost getting there. I get of, and I start walking relieved, `cause I still have a chance to be on time. One, two, three steps and I notice something strange. No. Yes. No. Yes! My left shoe has just broken (%&/··$"!!·$%··&&()=) This means swearing. Never mind, I still can do it. Of course, it will take me an hour to walk with that damn shoe, but everything is possible. I get to the place (water!). I`m supposed to look for a person. Her name? I don`t remember it, but what`s the problem? I know exactly where to find her. What? She`s absent? You mean, she didn`t come? Oh. Oh! ($%$&/()=&%$··%&%/(/&%$%) A little bit more of dirty language, suitable for this ocassion. I`ll go home, then. Five more blocks, walking with a shoe that I`m already thinking about throwing to the garbage, and that`ll be it. The time: what do I fricking care about the time? I just wanna get home.
I`m at the bus stop now. Great! A gigantic bee is on my shoulder! Don`t you know, you little maniac that I`m alergic to your poison?Get out, go and disturb somewhere else. Ok, it`s gone. Brilliant, the bus is coming (crowded, of course!). Home, finally! First question of my mom: how did it go? No answer. Second question: what happened to the newspaper? No answer either. I dare to look at the clock. 9.15. I still have to survive almost 15 more hours of this Monday. I hate Mondays, I really do!
* All the events described above are real. Ì know, it`s impossible that someone can have such a bad luck, but it`s real, believe me.