Me

I’m looking at you, at all of you. Looking at your tired faces, on your cheap clothes. On your rough hands from pushing cleaning carrying. Your mouth, that will always say “yes” just to keep his lousy job. I imagine you as a fish swimming in water so disgusting that he cannot breathe. Your pathetic pay- check is your only chance to get your poor fish head out of the water for a brief breathe before you dive back into this poisoning swamp you call life.                             

Your eyes, yes! your eyes are my favorite. Your wearied eyes. The way your simple eyes are looking at me, is the reason that I take the subway at 5am. I got enough money to take a stretch limo to my office, you know what?  I can fly with a private jet every morning around town if I wanted. But what’s the point of that? How you will see me if I’m behind tinted windows or flying high in the sky? No, I want you to see me on your way to another day of hard labor. I want you to look at my leather boots and ask yourself how much did they cost?  My boots can take you and your family to a vacation in an exotic place that you probably never heard of.  Only my watch can keep your fish head and the other fish you call a family above the water for a year. Yes, yes, look at me, try to visualize my house my car my life style. You cannot, and that is the point. For you I am superior, I’m above you, I am sitting on cloud nine way above your shit-pool. 

“I am the one you wish to be”.                                                                        

Two stops to go before I leave my personal amusement park and climb back to my perfect life. Only two stops to go and he sit next to me, this fat man, his legs almost touching mine. His dirty working boots close to my alligator skin boots. His hoody taps my expensive Italian suit. With his chubby fingers he is holding his primitive flip phone and staring at a picture on the phone. I can see it, it’s a photo of a few kids and a woman. And then he smiles, it’s a real genuine smile. This fat stupid man is actually happy.  What the hell? I ask myself. You are fat, fat people are not supposed to be happy, you are fat and poor. I am happiness. You need to look at me and realize just how much your life has no meaning. I live in a penthouse you live in some shithole. I got a jacuzzi, while you stand in line for your turn to take a cold shower. That people on your phone, what can you buy them? I can buy anything I lay my eyes on. So why the hell you are so happy? Who gave you the right to smile as everything is just great in your life? I am great, I am awesome. You are nothing but a fat fish in the swamp. My blood is boiling, he doesn’t care about me, he is not examining me, admirer me. comparing his nothing to my everything. Why?

I cannot help it, I turn my head to him and ask, what’s your story? 

He takes away his eyes from the phone and with a biggest smile that I saw in my life he said “I am the one you wish to be”.        

‘’A different story’’

Her breathing was deep and steady when she run through the dense forest holding her grandmother’s kitchen knife in her hand. Her red cape was torn up, also her legs, hands and her face were cut by the tree brunches.

Stop you are the victim, said the forest while burying its thorns in her.

Stop and wait for the big brave man to save you, shouted the animals in the forest.

Go back to be the naïve little girl, the readers whispered with an outrageous mumble.

It was wrong, she knew it, they knew it even he knew it.

 That is the only way the story goes, smart men told her. Don’t ruining it for all of us, they warned her.

You need to wait for us to save you, said the hunters with a commanding voice.

You don’t have the right to change anything in the story, her grandmother waves her finger in front of her face.

You are wearing red, you know what it means right? Blamed her the wise owl.  You are the one that brought the wine in your wood splints basket. You asked for it, stop complaining and carry on with your part of the story.

And she listens, for so many years and for so many times that this story was told.

She didn’t want to disappoint them, make them mad angry or sad.

Not anymore.

She did her part in the story, she played the character that was made for her for too long.

He was not far away from her. She could see him running for his life. He was panicking, hysterical. His breathing short and fast. A white foam was accumulating around his mouth. His big impressive eyes were now nothing but sheer horror.

She was faster than him, stronger then he had never been.

She was the predator he was the prey.

Can you hear me know with your big ears? She screamed.

Can you see me with your big eyes? She roars as a lioness.

He falls down exhausted, nothing has left in him. She looked at him, he was weak pathetic.

Around them the forest was quiet, nothing and nobody ask her to stop anymore.

They all knew. It’s a different story.