This morning I met an old woman waiting on the street with a handbag luggage.
She looked at me, smiled, stretched her arms and said:
"This morning breeze is great, isn't it?".
I adjusted to her good mood, came out from my overcast thoughts and replied with a similar enthusiasm: "Yes, it is(ssssss)!!".
The truth was that I did not notice the morning breeze, at all.
And even if I had, I would not say it is great.
I often forget how lucky I am.
However, that woman changed my morning in some way.
Then, few minutes later I was fighting with the main door, my key was not working, when I met the "water guy", a black man who opened the door for me. He had this sincere smile that made me thought once again.
I should be more grateful for whatever I have.
The truth is that I have never been that kind of person, always excited and energetic.
I have always felt this latent tiredness that I have never liked, but it has been there, since I was born, probably.
And, above all, this melancholy that never leaves me alone.
It cannot be always labeled as a matter of female hormones.
By the way my chin has been blossoming with pimples over the last three days.
And I am not a teenager.