Sunday, April 11, 2010

Good Nickname For Angie

and irony

Leah fights. Entangled with the jacket in the bag wedged between the ID card and the wallet it has not had time to put in the right compartment. She also fights with shoes too new and too tight, with the desire to sit there, not to move, to cry or to laugh or to cry. Most importantly, Leah fights with itself. This is not new, this struggle, Leah knows her well, it seems that she has lived since his birth. No, this is nothing new. Except that if the fight is the same, the cause this time is different. And it is with this that Leah is struggling, while its not swallow his shoes, that threatens to empty wallet on the floor, and she wondered why she always keeps advancing. The others, she understands. They want to survive. But she?

Leah came to work at 8.30 specific for what she knew his last day of work. Not only for the company. Tuesday would be her last Tuesday, she had decided to end it. His life was not so sad, if not empty. But it brought him nothing. Leah, since May, feels empty. Neutral. That's the good word: neutral. She wants to cry, scream, yell, she would dream to feel something, something other than silence in it which leaves him no respite. She does not smile even when the sun heats it or face the laughter of a child appears out of nowhere. All summer, she waited, hoping that something woke her. Saw a psychologist. Taken drugs, pills yellow, blue, white, who were bewildered and did not put more than the silence in her muted. Be patient, he said both the doctor that the psychologist. It takes time to rebuild.

The problem, says Leah as she feels behind it the pressure of hundreds of marchers, the problem is that I do not know why I have to rebuild myself.

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