I fragile rim of the mug. “Emily, Emily”

I woke up on the 233rd morning
of this year the exact same way I woke up for the previous 232: 5:30 my alarm
went off: three dark grey notes on repeat. 6:00 I was still in bed having
pressed snooze six times, every time letting the grey noise play out. Finally I
dragged myself out of bed and stumbled into the black abyss of the bathroom. I
flicked on the light and it spluttered to life oozing out a dark yellow glow. I
started my dull pre-programmed routine.

Ten minutes later I stomped down the stairs
trying to not let the dark blue well that swelled inside me flood over and cast
a sombre depressing cloud over the entire world. The coffee looked good, I sat
at the table watching how the muddy brown liquid swirled around and swallowed
the copper teaspoon, taunting to drag it all the way in, its only saviour the
fragile rim of the mug. “Emily, Emily” my mother’s cries dragged my head out of
the mist. “Mother?” I replied hoping she would keep it short, but
unfortunately, as always, she dragged her stream of words on so that there was
a long grim green vine of them choking me.

I had been seeing Emily for therapy for 3
years now. She absolutely fascinated me. Her mind worked in the most incredible
way; everything was calculated and logical and had a reason to be there. She
even knew exactly why she was depressed: the first time she came in for a
session she sat down in front of me, gave me a simple smile, and said: “The
reason I am here is because the last phycologist was useless, it took him a
year to figure out why I was depressed, so I’m going to save you some trouble. Like
every other human being on this planet I am just here on earth to live out my
dull life until it ends. I am here to be here until I am not here anymore. You see
unlike you I am not living under the impression that I am here to serve a
bigger purpose, because let’s face it we’re just here to die, so if you don’t mind
I’d appreciate if you just let me get on with dying.” From that moment on I knew
she was going to be a challenge, so I always played along with her tricks,
hoping somewhere I could change her mind set on life. Today I think I have made
a break through, because the first thing she said to me this morning was: “I have
decided to add some colour to my life.”    

Day 234, 5:30 my alarm went off; I did not
press snooze though: instead I lay in bed thinking about my dull morning colours
and realized they were very depressing and I should seriously add some colour
to my life. That is when I decided to murder someone. The thought of the pool
of bright crimson blood seeping out of their veins after I stabbed them adding
a brilliant vibrant red to my life excited me from head to toe. Who? Was my
next question. I evaluated my mother, father and brother as candidates, but
they all fell into the same problem: they were family so in order to not seem
guilty I would have to fake that devastating gloom of mourning them, and that
would be far too much effort. Maybe my phycologist? He would see it coming
though, he always managed to figure out ,my tricks, and I liked that about him.