"I feel like I'm a terrible person, like nobody could bare me or my actions, I feel like every single word I say is a lie, every single breath I take makes me believe that I truly don't deserve it, a burden I am a burden to everyone"
I stare at his grey orbs, that showed curiosity.

Something that I have been dying to see in this world.

"And the worst part is... nobody can see that ?!!
Nobody loves me even me, even me the person who's supposed to be there no matter what, but nobody seems to notice.
They truly notice the absence of that soul but nobody dares to interfere"

Even if that person is dying from the inside.

"Don't worry kate ! I understand you, and I will save you.
But you have to wake up first"

"What ?!"

"Pipip pipip pipip pipip pipip pipip"
Please someone to stops that noisy clock.

It was just a dream, one good thing I know, dreams never come true.
I turn the alarm off and get up.
Another simple day of this miserable life.

Where nobody cares about anyone but themselves and when they care they create a huge of a mess I like to call drama.
I wore one of my classic black blazers with a pair of old bleach jeans.

I check the house for one last time, avoiding a gas or electrical disaster, then I lock the door so my neighbor would mind her business and wouldn't annoy me by the morning or when I come back home.

Speaking of which, I can hear her door creaking.
The woman doesn't know I'm an ex at spying.

I hurry up noticing I left my watch at the drawers near my bed, I roll my eyes realizing this day will be worse for sure.
Passing by Star bucks, grabbing a large coffee and a donut.

New York Subways were crowded like usual, but they gave me a feeling of belonging and coziness.

Especially when an old sweaty man smells Terrible is sitting right next to you.

But who am I to judge.

I reach my station but I decide to procrastinate a little, well it's not like the world depends on me.

get up lazy fat ass.

Art life, was the company I managed to gain a job at, it was well known for its great achievements and passionate workers.
...
you will never be one of them.

The office was a bit empty this morning, as it was a weekend and almost every one went to vacation at this time of the year.
I tell my greetings to the effortlessly smiling receptionist and head to my desk upstairs.

The window was blurry, it needed cleaning.
Wait what ?! Today was a cloudy day with a chance of rainy sky.
Clouds that would cry with souls, thunder would Scream with the living and dead.

To the families that lost, and the wounds that could never heal.

"Hey kate, how are you ?
Any plans for the weekend ? Oh did you check out the new design that was launched two days ago ?! It was amazing...."
My friend jessica goes on and on about designs.

Girl, don't you find work enough for designs ?!

"Yeah yeah I guess"
I throw some random words at her and leave to the storage room, looking for my archived designs.

When the tornado of the company makes it here.
Mike.

"Morning kate"
He used to always tell me, the morning without good fully knowing that it isn't one hundred percent good for me.

Or this just might be me imaging things every where and when.

But at a certain time, when you notice a certain thing, you realize it's been there all around you, maybe for you, but it becomes visible for you from that second you have noticed it.
An suddenly your world becomes all about it.

"You didn't fix my computer"
I ignore his distracting smiles and jump directly.

"Ohh! Yeah I forgot it.
I'll do it now"
You better.

"Next time, when you use something, bring it back to it's  predecessor"
And by that my morning became ten percent better.

Everyone was investigating me and the only thing was missing is the police, like what ?!

I came back with the colors palettes and started my work shift.
Until lunch time when I got up to the café inside the company.
Where it's also called the gossip area of art life, the workers here got used to the freedom mr rogers gave them.

Ever since his wife death, he lost the meaning of life, that sweet taste of the sunny warm days became bitter cold and anything strange but home to him.
He decided to heal his wounds with ongoing doses of caffeine.

Oh boy here we go again.

"Where the hell is my coffee ?!!"
He yells at his secretary.

It was hard for him, that was a sure thing.
But another sure thing is mike is at the kitchen here, making a sandwich and smirking when finding me frowning at him, and making sure all he could receive is a wave of our hate and annoyance.

"Want a sandwich ?"
He asks playfully.

Seriously ?!
Hell no, but I wouldn't say no to an iced tea that would calm my nerves.