Another Monday.

Why are you wearing your suit, John?  Monica asked her husband; while she was trying to get her head around the usual Mondays morning madness.

John was standing near the door with his finest suit, to be completely accurate it was his only suit. Staring at his wife he was disappointed, it obvious he was expecting a completely different reaction from his wife.  

You didn’t see the note I left on the kitchen table? John asked, just to realize that his wife put her cup of coffee on what was probably the most important piece of writing he ever wrote.

No, I didn’t see any note, John can you please tell me what is going on? its Monday morning you know.  It was clear that his wife was not in the mood for puzzling questions.                                                                                                                                                                  Please Monica, john said with a half begging and half annoyed voice, lift your cup of coffee and read the note I wrote. John’s plan didn’t work the way he pictured it in his head.

Monica lifted her cup of coffee while mumbling “I don’t have time for this”. Underneath the coffee cup Monica could see a note that was already stained with coffee. The only thing that she was able to read was “I am” and “final”. John, I cannot read it, I don’t have time for this, its Monday morning, you know.  

For God’s sake Monica, it’s a suicide note, John exclaimed. I am about to jump off of a bridge.

So, is that the reason you are wearing your only suit John? Why do you want to do it with the most expensive clothing you have? You can jump with the same level of success with jeans and a t-shirt.

Before John had any chance to replay to his wife and explain that it seems kind of right to die with his best clothes. Monica put her cup of coffee back on the unreadable suicide note and said with a soft voice. I don’t want you to do it, but the warm feeling that John felt quickly vanished when his wife continued, it’s really not a good time John, there are so many errands to do and I cannot do everything by myself. there are bills to pay, the house is a mess and somebody needs to pick up the kids from school. its Monday you know. Besides that, its rush hour now, it will take you forever to get to where ever you want to go and kill yourself, you will want to kill yourself just standing in traffic. As much as John didn’t want to, he find himself smiling at the last thing that his wife said.                                                                                                                                                 

Can you at list postponed this all suicide thing to another time?

John felt that the drama he was hoping for will not happen, at least not today. node his head with agreement with his wife.

Ok honey, John said. I will pick up the kids. 

Thank you, John, and if you don’t mind to take the dog out, before he pees all over the house.  

Just before John closed the door behind him, wearing his normal, not the special suicide clothes and holding the dog’s leash, he heard his wife saying. “In the evening when you come back, I will make your favorite food, I promise”.                                                                                                                                                                 After her husband closed the door behind him. Monica said to herself while finishing her coffee.

“Monday, every single Monday”.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              


Happy Me

“Little girls are not supposed to be sad”. Said the man with many diplomas on the wall. “Your mode already cost us too much money”, said the woman I called mom. “Enough with this useless behaver”. Joined her husband.

So, I set in my room in front on the mirror and with a lipstick I trace my face, ears nose and eyes. Only the mouth I drew deferent, I drew a big smile along the face in the mirror.  Hello there Happy Me, I said. Hello back, Sad You, the girl in the mirror replied. I want to be like you Happy Me, I said. You are happy and I am so sad. But I want to be you, cried back Happy Me. Why do you want to be sad? I asked.

My happiness is empty, said Happy Me. My Cheerfulness is fake. I am happy because I have to. I am glad because they say I need to be.

Your sadness is like a wave on a dark ocean.  Its full of emotions and pain. Your wave is gliding under a moonless night with memories and thoughts. You are deep and real little girl.

And when the sun will rise on the dark ocean, your wave will be shown to all, blue big and strong. Tears came down my face, when? When did they will see my true me? I asked.

It doesn’t matter beautiful girl, answer Happy Me.

It really doesn’t matter.  



Snow Man In Hell

You, yes you, that the blazing flames scorch away your memories from a different time. That the thick smoke covered the recognition of who you are. For so long the pain erase the why you are here.  You cannot feel a thing anymore, infinity lost its meaning.  All you feel is numbness, nothing else.

He will move silently, slowly, a colorful scarf around his neck and a funny Derby hat on his head, with a big smile curved on his face, he will remind you about the happiness you will never feel again. He will come over to you, close enough for you to feel just for a brief moment the soothing cold coming out from him. The heat will return, stronger than ever. The pain will hit you as it was your first moment down here, in a place that he will not let you forget the why and the before.

He is the devil’s cruelest servant; his torment is stronger then any flame.

He will give you hope that will never fulfilled.

He is a Snow Man in Hell.    

The Day He Left.

How are we going to tell the world that he left?

We have checked our calculations over and over again.

We have used the best computers, we looked through the strongest telescopes. Advised the most brilliant minds. But over and over we came to the same conclusion, he is nowhere to be find, he left.

They will ask “why?” and we cannot answer.

“Are all our prayers being for nothing?” they well cry.  And we cannot help.

“Please ask him to come back” They will cry. “We don’t know were he went”, we will mumbled.

“Are we all alone?” The boy asks his mom.

“We have each other” mom replay to her son. 

“Who is going to watch over us? Who will judge us?” The boy continues to ask.

“It’s all up to us” mother hugged her son.

“Is he ever coming back?”  I don’t know my boy.

Continue to pray my boy, prayer has a great power, when you pray my son, look inside, the answers are there. Don’t stop to believe, believe from your core. Pray from the inside out.

The boy closes his eyes, his mother saw his lips moving soundlessly with his own silent pray.

“Why are you smiling?”  the mother asked her son after he opened his eyes.

“He doesn’t need to come back, the boy answer”,

“He never left”.  

Purple kid

When people ask me, why do I have a gun? I answer, it’s for self-defense, nothing more. But its not the truth, the real reason why I carry a gun is because it gives me the ability to kill myself at any given time. Actually, when I think about it, it’s kind of self-defense. Pulling the trigger and blow my head off is the only way for me to escape from the purple kid and his green eyes.  

It wasn’t always like that, in the beginning the purple kid was shy, he followed me from a distance. He was to afraid to come close.  But little by little he became more daring. He got closer. He started to walks right behind me. I could feel his green eyes stubbing my back.  

Until one night he came closer than ever, it was late and the street was empty.  I turned around and I shouted at him “leave me alone”. But he just looks at me with his big green eyes and said “green is for guilt” the green in his eyes become darker, now its not the light green anymore but a heavy and dark. “we need to go back there” he told me, with tears in his eyes. “Please go away” I answer him. “please go away”. But he didn’t go, the purple kid came inside my home. He is the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning. He is always there looking at me, his voice become stronger, he is not crying anymore.  “green is for guilt”, we need to go back there” he keeps telling me”. “it was long time ago, I don’t remember anymore”. I cry, “we need to go to remember” the purple kid answer.

Its raining heavily.  We are going. The purple kid is not a kid anymore, he is bigger and stronger than me. “don’t stop, keep walking” he commands me. “I don’t know where to go” I beg. “green is for guilt, you know where to go” the purple kid reply.  Its far in the forest, but we eventually got there. 

Everybody knew about this place. “Who was the monster that did all of this?” everybody asked. Some of the police yellow ribbons with “crime scene” written on them are still fluttering in the wind. A monster left her victims here, that is what the yellow ribbons suppose to say. It’s all coming back to me, the screams, the blood. Yes, the glorious blood. The purple kid is inside me now. My eyes are green.  “Did you bring your gun?” He is whispering in my head. 

                       Green is for guilt, I answer.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Welcome to the nobody club

On my way to work I stopped to check my mailbox, inside there was only one envelope. On the envelope was no sender or return address only my name, strange I thought but I opened the envelope anyway, it was written. “Your projected suicide date is approaching. For a minimal pain and low impact on the surrounding, please contact us as soon as possible. Regards, The human monitoring division”.

It was a generic letter, it even had a logo at the top of the page that was made of wheeling gears creating a circle. This is definitely the most disturbing publicity letter I have ever seen, although I didn’t have any idea for what kind of product it could be. No time for that, I cannot be late for work. Its rash hour, people seemed more aggressive than usual. It’s as if they don’t want to move from their path. I felt as a Salmon swimming against the stream. But instead of water it was herd of humans, trying to run me over. Not the best way to start my week, I thought.

Finally, I’m at work. No time for good morning to anyone. I put my headset and open my computer. But no request for technical support came through. While I heard my coworkers dealing with endless calls, my station was silent. I checked the internet connection, it was fine. I had no explanation. Frustrated I spent my shift looking to an empty screen. At the end of the day I run out from my cubical to the exit door. I didn’t want to talk with anybody and luckily for me it seems that nobody had nothing to say to me. At the first step at the street I got hit from the back by another pedestrian who was walking faster then me. I fell down, other people didn’t show any consideration to the fact that I’m trying to stand up. My hands and legs got stepped on a few times before I manage to get up. All the way home I needed to avoid other people to bump into me. Although I tried to keep my lane of walking once or twice it ended with me getting pushed aside.

Exhausted finally I got home. It’s already dark and my body is in pain from the fall. I’m taking my clothes off preparing to take a shower. Standing with my underwear I check the pockets of my pants. My wallet, I cannot find my wallet. This is the last thing I need. standing half naked the frustration was too much, I was close to tears. And then my phone makes a loud beep noise, I got a message. I don’t remember the last time I received a message or a phone call for that matter. the message said, “it’s only going to get harder. We can help. Contact the human monitoring division as soon as possible.” I cannot really say why did I reply “yes” to the text massage. There was part of me that wanted to know who sent the letter and the text. What is the human monitoring division? But if to be completely honest, I wanted to talk with someone, anyone. A minute later there was a knock on the door. I know that you are wearing only your underwear, said the voice from behind the door. I was terrified but I opened the door.

My name is Megan said the woman in front of me. She reaches her hand out for a hand shake. No time for pants she said while she let herself inside my apartment. She sat down on the only chair I had in my kitchen. I stood at the other side of the table trying to get my head around what is going on. Let’s get straight to business she said. we have some great options for you to kill yourself. All of them are with as less pain as possible and most important with minimal impact on the surrounding.

But I don’t want to kill myself I said, with a chocked voice. She looked at me with the most disappointed look I ever saw. Do I really need to explain it to you? She asked. Yes, I said. if someone want me to kill myself so much, I expect him to have the courtesy to tell me why. Very well she said, lets open your file. I was expecting a huge book with everything I did in my life. but instead she pulled one paper with my name written on it. Don’t look so disappointed she said, it’s only the important stuff.

Like what? I asked. You are thirty-six right now. Six years ago, you had three friends, you kept in touch with your mother and you had some small talk with your coworkers during lunch time. Four years ego your mom died and you kept in touch with only two friends. One-year ago you lost contact with your remaining friends and since then you are alone. The only people that you talk with are the customers that need technical support, and that you lost today. You cannot even walk on the street without being pushed and stepped on. But why? I cried. Don’t you get it? she asked. You are a nobody. What is that even mean? I asked, getting demoralize.

Megan sighed in a very dramatic way. Let me give it to you in a nutshell she said. Imagine everything and everyone around you as a wheeling gear that is spinning another wheeling gear. Millions and billions of moving parts making the world the way we know it. But once in a million, one of the moving parts has a momentary gap in his influence on the other parts. In that case the human monitoring division comes in and puts a temporary wheel, to fill up the gap. That is, you. The moment the wheeling gears are connecting back together there is no need for the temporary one anymore, this is what you are, a wheeling gear that did his short job and now is no longer needed. Your life is meaning less you are a nobody. You are no more than a disturbance to the flow of actions and counter reactions. So, please let’s choose a suicide method and get it over with.

What if I don’t want to? I said. I don’t think that you completely understand your situation, said Megan. She was mad. You will talk and nobody will listen, you will not be able to walk on the street without being pushed and stepped on. You are nothing, a nobody, nothing but a toll that did his job and now need to be disposed. I’m still alive, I move alone in the night when the streets are empty. I don’t talk, but I listen. If you see me you will not notice me. but if you do, maybe you are like me, a wheeling gear with nothing to connect to, a nobody that refuse to go away.

We have a place among the moving parts that make this world what it is. Between the shadows the nobody can be somebody.