No, this is not a tale of fiction. What I’m
going to be saying in the next paragraphs is all real and why shouldn’t it be?
It’s not all about having wild different ideas everyday. Today I decided to try
something different because it’s my birthday. No, congratulations are not
demanded or needed but they are appreciated. What I want to talk about is the
effect this day had over be, what I think about turning a certain age, about
the day, about all the fuss around it and how I feel about everything related
to turning twenty seven years old today.
Yes, I’m not that old and maybe you’ll think
that I have nothing to complain about or valuable to say but I do. Because I’m
only three years away from a limit that separates me between adulthood and been
a young man. Of course, adulthood may begin before turning thirty. Many say the
body stops growing at twenty five years old, so maybe that’s the real limit.
Who cares? It’s not only a biological boundary but also one that, in this
society at least, confronts us with who we are and how we do what we do. And to
be honest I haven’t done anything worth stating in my thirtieth birthday as a
great achievement.
I personally don’t count education as an
achievement. Why? Because I do not live in difficult conditions or at the edge
of society. I have a relatively easy access to education from where my parents
put me in society and there’s no real challenge in me entering or coming out
with a diploma out of a academic facility. I’m not saying at all that I’m
smart. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, and certainly I cannot tell for myself. But
the truth is that anyone who pays an education will receive a prize for it
after a while. It’s not a prize because of what you learned but because of what
you paid. And that may be a hard reality so let’s move on.
I have a school diploma, a college diploma and
a postgraduate diploma. So, I’m set right? In this society, according to my
educational stats, I should have a great job and a nice seat from where to look
at life from. Well, I don’t. What I have today is not a product of anything
I’ve done but of the efforts made by my parents. Being my birthday and all, I
think it’s appropriate to thank them for all of that big effort, for everything
they’ve done over the years to make sure my life is the best they can give to
me. I have clothing, food, a bed and I have never worked in my life. I think
it’s fair to say they did a great job.
However, every person must be capable to
sustain itself without any outer help, right? In this society, in any society
to be accurate, people are required to start making money as soon as possible,
first learning a skill or doing whatever there is to do to have money and then
going up the ladder that leads to a better life, a better job and son on. Well,
I haven’t got that. I ‘ve never had the need or the yearning to work. Maybe
most people won’t get that but I just haven’t had to work. That’s it. If I
could I wouldn’t do anything for life but after my last diploma was shipped to
my house, I had to start looking for a job and that has been the story of my
life for the last two years. And no one has given me a chance to do anything,
at least not for a pay, and I’m too old to be bullied into working for nothing.
So there you have it.
I don’t really like to talk about it because I
know what people think when I tell them I don’t have a job. People think that
if someone isn’t paying you to do something, anything, it’s because you’re just
not good for anything. People that have jobs tend to think they are superior to
others just because of that and it’s always more obvious when you are this age.
People like to feel they have power because they have money: they pay trips,
they have a car (which I’m not interested in having, but that’s another story),
they move out of their parents home, they have social lives and so on.
I have nothing of that. Do I want to? I guess.
I don’t really know. There are many think I don’t know and all I do to avoid
getting crazy is writing. Because I don’t write only because I feel good doing
it, because it’s the only thing I feel I can do right, but because it avoids
entering into territories I prefer to live alone in myself. In the past, I have
been known to hating myself so much, so deeply, so violently, and I don’t want
anything to have with all of that again. I want to be far away from that black
pit in which all of those hurtful feelings are. The last time I fell, it was
awful. And… I always walk by it. Maybe one day I’ll finally for good.
On a more cheerful note, I don’t really like
birthdays. Surprised? I bet you’re not. I think it’s just one of the many ways
to control time, to be ashamed of things that you can’t control and ashamed of
the things that you can actually do something about, like that job we were
talking earlier. Because I know very well it’s pointless to blame others for my
failures. I am my problem and, possibly, I am my answer. But how to answer when
the question is not all that clear?
Birthdays to me are very personal, moments
that I prefer to spend almost alone, only with my family close by. I don’t like
big celebrations because, to be honest once again, I don’t think there’s
something to celebrate. Being alive is not good enough for me, not to celebrate
at least. And going old is really not something that I like to think about.
Because it reminds me of what I haven’t accomplished and who I’m not and that,
obviously, unsettles me. I just like to have a piece of cake, something to
drink and to eat and that’s all. I don’t like big gifts or parties or going out
because of that. I don’t see the point in all of it.
I would love for someone to really read this
because I feel it’s the most personal thing that I’ve written on this blog. I know most hits are just people that open the page and then close it when they see they have to read a lot. Or maybe that’s not interesting at all but it’s kind of a big deal for me because
this blog is all about my writing, my fiction creations, not about me as an
individual. Actually, I don’t think I can call myself a writer because I write.
There is a weight, a universe to the words and I don’t think I have what it
takes to be considered an actual writer. Will I get there? I have no idea. I
don’t think I can answer that because I don’t like to pretend I know things
that are impossible to predict. Optimism isn’t really my thing and reality
doesn’t care about what you desire, about how cute you think the world is.
Besides all of this, there is the
“relationship” side of turning a year older. Of course, we don’t get old only
on our birthday but every single day. The birthday is only there to mark the
change of a number, that’s it. So what have I achieved, relationship wise, in
twenty seven years? Shit. That’s it. I haven’t done shit in all that time.
Maybe there’s no surprise here either, but I don’t really believe in love as
everyone imagines it to be. That beautiful romance full of stupid little
phrases and words and corny moments. That love is bullshit. Same for the one
that lasts forever, another piece of bullshit. Love may exist but it’s
something beyond we can express in words and not only purely romantic, romance
is just the stupid part of it. But I don’t really give a shit to be honest.
I do think seeing is believing, so I have no
way to think that love exists if I have never felt it. And I haven’t. I’ve had
close relationships; I wouldn’t go as far to say they were deeply committed
relationships, in no way profound or enriching. That is the truth. Sex? Sure,
like a hundred years ago but sure. But sex is just biological, we are designed
to have sex, to enjoy it, to just do it and that’s amazing. But I grew tired of
it once I realized people didn’t see me as me when we had sex. They saw me as
something else. Yeah, something and not someone. That didn’t feel go and with
my personal issues, it wasn’t the best combo. So I just stopped.
Anyway, this is my twenty seventh birthday,
meaning that I have three more years to be a proper adult in the eyes of the
public. Of course, to me, the public can go and fuck themselves, unless they
start paying me for something. Because let’s face it, that’s all we are about:
money and how to live through it. If you don’t think so, you’re in denial. And
fuck, I want that money to stop feeling I’m a failure so fuck it. But who
knows, maybe things will change a lot in the following year. My experience
tells me nothing will change but who knows.
To finish, I have to state that I’m not being ungrateful.
As I said before, I thank my parents every day for what they did for me. I will
always be grateful for that. But I’m not like others, I do not parade myself
around people and tell them how proud I am for doing things everyone does or at
least everyone I know does. Because, of course, I can only care for my micro
cosmos and not for the whole world, at least not now. I just think I haven’t
done shit yet and that’s it really. Will I ever do something that makes me
proud? Who knows? Certainly not me. But hey, I’m turning twenty seven so fuck
what anyone thinks. For today, and for many days to be exact, I just don’t
care.
