Bad Day

I recoil at the thought. The heavy days are usually a lot more depressing when the sun is shinning and the birds are chirping and the bees kiss the flowers’ cheeks at dawn. I don’t know why but in that instance when you see them hovering over wanted nectars and scattered seeds of life, you begin to think that in the day of that particular event someone, high above the so called heavens, decided that everyone would be happy except you. Or so it seems. But who really knows. The believer says differently and the one who doubts simply disagrees. I, on the other hand, just don’t know. All I know is that luminescent feeling that in that instance, you feel like you suck. It begins to feel that everything you do is worth less and less and every valuable gold you touch turns into a monotony of shade-less colors that are more or less inappropriate for that day and simply useless to think of.

Your train of thought flows as fluently as that golden moment when, in the middle of billions of people, you trip on your own two feet (priceless). That waking thought pulls your lips into a semi-horror type of form to which no one can relate and no one dares to ask why. Then everything, on cue, crumbles into this oblivious mood. You shout at your wife or lover. You stick a finger up to a stranger. You utter words that offends even Satan – all because you walked yourself into a wall of people. Can you imagine?... Have you ever been in that moment?...

It’s a shameful moment when everything becomes immortally wrong and you repeat it in your head countless of times, blushing internally at the humiliation you have put yourself through for no reason. And then, you realize that in that day you happen to have spat on someone that means to you. And then all you can do is admit that you were a jerk and say sorry in the meekest voice you can muster. Looking down at your feet, you hope that the person would find it in their hearts to forgive you. And when they do… You half expect another “Bad Day.”