Monday, 30 June 2008

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.

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