Waiting, to be interviewed for a job. My eyes are fighting not to close, my feets are in war with my body, my nerves are against my will. I worked all night. I work, what else can I do ? I work and play cards with the ticks. I wait and ask myself : What are we all waiting for ? The future will be the same as today, the past is burned and will not come back, what we did accuses us, what we didn’t is lost. I ever think why I have the need to write dark things, depressive things, suicide letters. I don’t know. It just go out by itself. I wait, all my life I’ve been waiting, but, for what ? Like my grandmother used to say : potatoes chips will not fall from the sky. But I wait. I wait for the rain to fall, I wait for kind words, I wait the bus at the 7:00 AM when I finish to work. I think when we born, the second thing that the nurse need to do, is give us a tutorial for living. I try not to fall asleep, while I wait, for an interview that probably will end like : ” we will call you, thank you for coming “. Fuck, I hate being poor. I need money. Fuck. I need to fuck too, yes, too many years of abstinence. I think about everything and everything reminds me of you. It’s sad that potatoes chips not fall from the sky.