I see Red

It is very cold this morning. Why is she making me do this? Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. I just wish the two days I had could be spent not having to wake up this early. Especially for something as frivolous as this. This is the third time she is taking me to get my blood tested. I wonder if she thinks I'm on drugs. I don’t know how to explain to her that I am not cool enough for that. Is this how people start doing drugs? Someone accuses them over and over again of doing it and they start out of spite. I want to know what she thinks they’re gonna find this time that they didn’t find the first two times. She’s walking really fast but also turning intermittently to yell at me. Something about wanting an explanation for my behaviour. She doesn’t really want an answer. She just needs the words to come out of her. It’s quite cathartic I imagine. To have someone who has no other option but to hear what you have to say. She hates her job. Maybe she hates me. She hates living here. I wish I could express myself in some way. Talking doesn’t work for me the way it works for her. Plus it wouldn’t matter if it did. I could never express myself as uninhibitedly as she did. My thoughts would have to be filtered by what she could handle. Whatever I said would just be a poor imitation of her masterpiece. We are at the bus stop and she is still unrelenting. She’s starting to repeat herself but louder this time for emphasis. Standing here is much worse. I can’t just linger behind her. Lucky there’s no one here to hear. She might as well be standing here by herself. But like every good piece of art, I think she requires the audience. I wish the bus would come by faster. I’m tired of standing here. I assumed I wouldn't have to wait long so I didn’t wear a jacket. The cold seems to be especially concentrated on one part of my right shoulder and spreading across my chest. Finally, the bus is coming. I stand too close to the curb. Just close enough to make her worry. The bus stops just inches away from my face. I walk to the back and she stands at the front. There is so much distance between us. Distance neither of us knows what to do with. Distance that both of us are determined not to cross. The clinic is only five stops away. The least they could do is play music in the waiting room. Then again what if the music you’re playing makes the atmosphere worse. There’s something wrong with the Tv. It’s working but there’s a red hue over the screen. It’s so funny. I am in a sea of all these people that are probably for a number of momentous reasons and there I am in the middle of it all. Taking up space because I am too abstract. I hope their test results are as immaterial as mine will be. At last the nurse calls me. The last hurdle before I can go home. The tourniquet is really tight. I try to tell the nurse that I have really small veins but I can tell that she doesn’t take it seriously. Shockingly she fails to draw blood the first two times. Eventually she manages to pierce through a vein. This is my favourite part, Seeing the blood fill up the little vials. That beautiful deep maroon colour. Burgundy? I don’t know, but it's a cathartic experience to see something that is typically inside of you flow out of you. Slowly at first, but then at an excited pace. Disconnected from you. Free from you finally. I wish it was that easy to get out the poison that ailed me. It almost makes this whole thing worth it.

The thrift store is really busy today. I came here on a mission. I need a new pair of boots. I can’t keep wearing these shoes. They're so worn down that I can feel the plastic lining of the shoes poking me each time I take a step. I feel like everyone is looking at me but every time I try to catch their gaze, I am left staring at the back of someone’s head or finding them in an already established interaction with someone else. I would spend all day at the thrift if I didn’t think I would be suspected of stealing. I walk in and out of isles not even really looking at the clothes. The shoes section is empty. They don’t have the type of shoes I need. An old man came up to me and tried to strike a conversation with me. At first I thought he worked at the store but he wasn’t wearing a uniform. He asked me my name. I gave him a fake one. Not for any particular reason. He told me about how he had just recently moved to the area. He asked me if I had a job. I answered him sincerely that time. He asked me if I lived around the area. He asked me how old I was. He asked me if he could give me his number. He asked me if I would like to come over to his place sometime. I am still walking through the isles of the store. I don’t know what I’m looking for here anymore. It doesn’t have what I need. All of this effort is for nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something bright and red. A shirt? I move towards it. No, it's a sweater. It's nice. It is getting cold again. A sweater would be nice. It's $6.99. There’s a wet feeling on my chest. I look up but I can’t trace a source. My shirt is soaked. I can afford the sweater. I guess the boots will have to wait another day. I walk through the antique section one last time but can’t find anything worthwhile. I wish I could find what I wanted, when I wanted it. There isn’t much else left for me here. I should head out sooner rather than later. It gets dark quickly these days.

Why schedule a class for 10:00 AM anyway. In a snowstorm no less. At least it’s Friday. Then again, what is it about the weekend that I am looking forward to? The only enjoyment to gain from the weekend comes in its absence. In the longing for it. Once it's here, I am always devastated to find out they are only days. Empty, underwhelming, and lacking in the magic that I had ascribed to them. They are only days. They cannot deliver you from the thing that encumbers you. That requires something stronger. I am always shocked by how full the train is regardless of what time it is. Everyone is either too late for something or running away from something else. The delays this morning are endless. Frosted over tracks are keeping the train moving at a glacial pace. I would appreciate the extra time to get some more reading done if it wasn’t so loud. A woman wheeling in her crying baby. The man next to me arguing with the passenger across from him and periodically arguing with himself. It’s already 9:56 AM. I am going to be late to class. This sucks. I was looking forward to talking to the girl that sits next to me. I don’t know if she has a crush on me or if I have a crush on her. Probably neither. I am making a habit out of being late for this class. It doesn’t matter how early I wake up, I am somehow always late. I might just skip it. I'm only gonna make it to the last twenty minutes. The man next to me keeps getting louder. Two more stops before I get off. I am barely following this text. This isn’t working. I need to stop pretending that it is. I might as well get off the train here. I get up and approach the doors. The wet cold feeling has returned to my chest. Sharper and harsher than before. I look outward but everything is a beautiful shade of red. Crimson, Ruby, Scarlet. Mixing together and forming hues that I never before thought possible. Spreading apart and engulfing everything into their flame. Seeping into crevices and clinging into every fold of existence. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I never knew the world could be so full of colour.