Seven fifty in the morning. The alarm clock rings. She wakes up suddenly and quickly turns it off. She can’t stand any nose while she’s sleeping. She remembered she woke up at three, then at five thirty, then at six. A great night. She turns and gets comfortable again to get back to sleep. Her eyes closed and the sleep begins to take her away again. She feels her thoughts rambling, making their way back to subconscious.
Eigh o’clock in the morning. The mobile phone alarm rings. She wakes up suddenly and quickly get out the bed to turn if off. She doesn’t feel like turning on the lights, so in her way to the bathroom where the phone is, she almost falls twice because she stumbles upon all the shoes and clothes lying around on the floor. She usually leave the phone in the bathroom in order to force herself to get up. “Why do I torture myself this way every single morning?”. Once the phone issue is sorted and calm has returned, she gets back to the bed, in the darkness, and almost falling twice again. She covers herself with the blanket and feels the pleasant warm under it. Closes her eyes again. “Just ten minutes more. You have enough time”. Her head is stuffed up. She was so sleepy. “What did I do last night to go to bed so late?”. She tried to remember… Programming and listening to… Pink Floyd? “A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers
but awakes to a morning with no reason for waking… Yeah, that makes sense”. Apart from sleepy, she didn’t feel like anything, she was tired. More than tired, she felt empty. Maybe that was why it was so hard for her to get up. As staring at the darkness above her, she tried to figure out a reason to get up. Couldn’t find it. What was waiting for her outside? “I just can think about one thing”. She gets a foot out of the bed to check it. Cold. “I was right”. Then, she turned back to look at the time. 8:15. She turns on the light and feels her pupils becoming smaller with a bit of pain. After some seconds mobilizing strengh, she finally gets out of the bed. Staying in wasn’t a good solution for anything. And the cold strikes in all its magnitude. She looks at the kitchen table. The rests of last night dinner are still there. “Seriously, how lazy you are…”.
After having whatever as breakfast, she gets in the bathroom and looks and the mirror. That stupid marks under her eyes. When she doesn’t sleep, they turn deeper and blacker. Everyone who knows her enough can know if she has slept or not judging by them. And today they didn’t look much well. Today was going to be one of her bad days. One of those days where it seems the only thing she had were tears, that days that always came back to remember her that she was a human being, that she was alive. Those days when one feels like posting something in the social networks just in order to get somebody’s attention. The problem is that it’s wortheless, like crying out in the desert. Social networks can cheat on us, can lead us to think that we’re not alone, that there’re always a lot of people there willing to help us and give us a “Like”. But, how many people of those we have in social networks would really give a dime for you? ” She was thinking about this. “Hmm… maybe just three”. But she didn’t blame them. After all, how many people would she really give a dime for? She starts to count to lead to the following conclussion. “Five”. She had met hundreds of people along her life and only really cared about five. But it was ok, any other thing would be lying to herself. And five people she could trust in were enough. She didn’t like social networks at all. She find it miserable to have to share half of your life in an Internet page just to feel connected to someone. And, morever they just served to damage relationships. For example, before they existed, when you lost touch with somebody for any circunstance, you could happily assume that he still remembered you or you still was important to him, wondered about his life… But now with social networks, you have that person always there, and you have to watch how the relationship agonize and how that person forgets you while you forget him too. And after some time, he only becomes a photography hunging around or a publication every so often. No one likes to be forgotten. And she felt afraid of the way things could change, about how a thing that is important today can fade away tomorrow, be erased completely and don’t exist anymore. Become meaningless. She was afraid of the speed at which things can change. Even she had betrayed herself so many times she didn’t remember the exact number, had betray her old ideals, the things that she stood for once… If we are capable of betray ourselves, then which trust could we have left? Even if the most dignified feeling was poisioned by the possibility of change? And after all, is it a good idea to show other people our true feelings? Who cares about other one’s feelings? We have enough with our own pain to think about the other’s suffering. And this may sound selfish, but it’s true in many cases. What is better, after all? To love someone with all your soul even if he doesn’t care, or don’t feel love for anyone at all? The first option could be desperating, but the second was a hell. An existencial death.
And going farther… Is human communication a real possibility? When we say we know someone, we only know the things that he show to the outside, but who knows where is in the inside. And just judging by the things she hide from others, even the closest ones, herself, the rest of the world could be a surprise too. We never show what is in the core of our hearts, we’ll never show it, we’ll die taking with us that secret. Even we hide it from ourselves. And it’s sad. At the end, we’re alone, we never got a true connection with anyone. There’s only isolation, and more today, when relationships between people are so superficial. If you can’t know a person expending a life by his side, how can you know a person just talking ten minutes when at the same time you’re talking to five others?
She was sitting on the bed, thinking about all those things while trying find something to wear. She hated to choose her clothes in the morning…
Have she ever been happy? “Hmm… and who is?”. Probably not. Some times she has rubbet it with her fingers, but every time she’s been about to reach happiness, a voice whispers to her: “You don’t deserve it”. And maybe it was true, because it never worked. And she guess she’s been happy in some pleasant moments, like on holidays, in summer, etc. But it never lasts long and always was a ‘melancholic’ happiness. Maybe she had so much debts to herself and she had to pay for them somehow. Since she was a little child, she’s been a thoughful person. She began to wonder about what it means to be alive and to be dead, why she had to be herself and not any other, what is the meaning of existence. Science and philosophy haven’t found the answer yet after centuries researching and developing theories, and a seven year old could find it? No, but she spent many nights of childhood thinking about it, when she couldn’t sleep. And now, some days when she opened her eyes to the morning, she couldn’t help feeling that life is absurd, it’s completely meaningless, as her life is insignificant. Because, even if she feels pain, even if she feels it’s the end of the world, does the world really care? Will it mean something when a century has passed by? Will it altere the course of nature? Of course not. Our lifes are unimportant. “Or maybe I’m just feeling blue”, she thinks as she closed her room door and goes outside.
Through the fish-eyed lens of tear stained eyes
I can barely define the shape of this moment in time
And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I’m spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.
If you negotiate the minefield in the drive
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes
And if you make it past the shotgun in the hall,
Dial the combination, open the priesthole
And if I’m in I’ll tell you what’s behind the wall.
There’s a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you’re sleeping with your new found faith.
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream?
And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side
What would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away
And leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance
As you whisper down the phone?
Would you send me packing?
Or would you take me home?
Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings,
Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.