Trapped in the flow

   For the first time ever, I was in the presence of snow. It was like in those movies where everything is covered in white and the characters make snowmen and throw balls of ice to each other, but it was pretty nice nevertheless. The snow just began to fall as we had stopped on a gas station and I walked out of the car just to feel it by myself. I was the only one there interested in the phenomenon but I didn’t care, the experience was even more unique like that. It felt so nice at first and so soft and simple. It was like magic was real but it was also very basic and not complicated like one would imagine. It was just this: snowflakes slowly falling to the ground and on my skin and hair. I felt alone and unique somehow but then I was reminded I was escaping and I had to go back to the car.

 Our journey went on exactly as it had been going on before the stop. Although the magic was ongoing because I could still see the snow falling on the other side of my window. But somehow, it felt very far away now and even more considering the circumstances. The driver was a woman I didn’t even knew the name of but she said she was doing all of this to save both our asses. I believed her because I had no other choice but the truth was I didn’t trust anyone anymore. Doing so had been my downfall and now I was in a car with a strange woman who never smiled, being chases by the police and other security agencies just because I never opened my mouth to say anything, I never fought back.

 I guess I have never been the kind to fight back, to be on the offensive side of things. I have always been more into letting things happen and just adapt to that. To be honest, I consider myself one of those persons that don’t need to go around the world doing things to prove who I am or what I’m worth. I don’t really need to test myself because I just now what I’m capable of. My life is one to be lived in peace, without breaking to much controversy in my path. Or that’s what I had always thought. Now, I really only want to be looking at the snowflakes and enjoy the beautiful spectacle that it is to see nature unfold itself in front of my very eyes. But soon, snow stops and rain ensues, ruining the landscape with its violence.

 I hate rain and now I have nothing to look for. I just realize I don’t want to be there, I don’t want to be running forever like a criminal because I’m not that. I’m just a stupid idiot that made a mistake and didn’t have the courage to talk when he had to. I bet she doesn’t know that I’m not an evil mastermind as many have thought, I’m just an average and maybe even below average guy who just wants to be left alone for the rest of his days. But I’m not stupid; I know that now that’s impossible. There’s no way everything’s going to stop just because I say the truth. My truth is simply not interesting enough for people to listen to me and I know they will just not care about it at all.

   It was all about lies and more lies and I now that I’m not completely innocent because, after knowing what had happened, I didn’t say or do anything. My so-called friends, those people I had learned to love and respect, they had set me up several times by making me keep their secrets, whether they came in the form of drugs or in the form of money. To be fair, they just gave me bags that were black and covered in duct tape so I never really knew what I was taking care of but those people were the only thing I had in life. I couldn’t doubt them, I just couldn’t begin to dare to betray the confidence they had put in me. So for years, many years, I kept those bags of whatever it was.

 I discovered once one of those bags had money and I asked my best friend what that was about. He told me he had earned a lot of money and would rather split it and keep it safe with friends that in a bank. To be honest, I didn’t believe him; I just decided that having friends and a certain sense of family was better for me that meddling in some business I had no idea about. After all, it was them who paid my rent, my clothes and food and who had given me the chance to be someone by working in a factory. They made plastic objects, of many natures, but I wasn’t to bad at it and I earned my living so they didn’t have to help me so much. I loved my life back then and wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

  My parents had died many years ago, leaving me an orphan. They didn’t have any money so I was about to turn into one of the many children that roam the streets at night, when I met them and they just accepted me into their bigger family. To be honest, I don’t remember my parents. I have no idea what kind of people they were or even how they looked like. I guess I could find out maybe now wasn’t the best moment to do so. It had never been one of my priorities in life to know who they were because I had always felt my family was the guys and girls and hung out with, those who gave me money to survive and live a life that was just good enough for me. Even now, I know I owe them a lot for what they did because they had no obligations with me.

 But I grew up and realized that what my family was doing was not really ok. Also because I saw the people that bought their product, on the streets, and thought that selling such a poison was not what a good person would do. I asked one of them once if they would change their work in the future. He said he wouldn’t because drugs not only have him money, they also gave him status and respect from other people. I told him about what I had seen and he just said that weak people shouldn’t be doing what’s meant to be for the strong and the mighty. So it was all a question of power that I couldn’t quite put to words.

 That wasn’t necessary. I discovered the hard way that this family had never really been mine or anyone else’s.  The day one of their bags filled with cocaine arrived at the police department, they instantly went for me. They sent a thug, a guy I had know and loved as brother, to punch the truth out of my body. I was beaten heavily, barely surviving the whole thing. Even now, my ribs hurt as if his enormous feet were pounding my thorax again. I bled a lot, covering the flour with the unmistakable odor of iron. I told him, when he let me, that it hadn’t been me. He just left me there, to clean myself and to take care of my wounds alone, because my family had officially left me for good.

More bags arrived to the police department, some filled with money and others with drugs. This time, I got a letter saying that someone was sorry it had to be blamed on me but that it was the only way to do it. So before I was killed, I surrendered myself to the police. It was stupid from me to do it, as I hadn’t done anything, but my mind couldn’t decide of anything less dangerous. The police didn’t believe me either, only thinking I was looking to save my ass from something they didn’t know about. They protected me for a while but I knew I wasn’t safe and I knew the police wouldn’t risk it all just to have me alive. So, once again, I escaped but this time with the woman that was driving the car after I had seen snow for the very first time.

 She didn’t talk at all and it was better that way. We just knew we had to run away and we did. I didn’t wanted to know why she had been arrested or she was guilty or not. Not even if she was a serial killer. I knew that the trip would end eventually and that I would have to fend for my own, which I was looking forward. I needed to prove myself that I could defend my own body and my own existence. So I just waited until the moment came and it did, faster than I thought. Because when we stopped again in a motel, and now more snow was falling, I went to get something to drink and eat and she stayed behind. She was arrested by a state security agency that was looking for her for a long time. I saw them take her and just leave, without even stopping to look for me. 

 I didn’t know what that was for but I thanked it. I left our car there and just realized I had no money. So what I did was simple: first of all, I ate what I had bought. There was no reason to go hungry now. After that, I waited patiently until the night arrived and then I went to a bar that was just a few steps away from the motel. It was greasy and old and depressing but it made me shine. So I took advantage of that and, eventually, I found what I was looking for. A mind that was weaker than mine, someone that would pay attention to me and to no one else. Someone that would want me and not the rest. For the first time, I was going to be my own person.

 The next day, I put on my clothes, went out the bedroom and bought a seat on a bus that would take me far away; so far it would turn me completely into another person. And I would like that.

Too much...

   The club had some lights, but they were always turning around and changing into other colors. It was very difficult to see anyone and friends had to grab hands to move at the same time if they didn’t want to get lost. Melissa and Valeria did exactly that as they walked towards the bathroom they had seen earlier. It was Melissa who wanted to go there, Valeria had just come as a companion, or as the type of protection women like to have when going to the bathroom. As the bathroom was practically an only stall, Valeria had to wait outside where she checked her phone. She wasn’t expecting any calls or messages but she checked anyway. The truth was that she was very bored in that place. The music, the noise, the people, the lights, the smoke… All of that just wasn’t for her.

 But apparently she was the only one who thought that in that place. Not very far from where she was standing, there was a women dancing like she could not stop. She had several people around her but as she danced to a Lady Gaga song, she came close to many of the guys and danced with them for some seconds. Maybe they couldn’t realize it, with the alcohol and everything, but she didn’t look nearly as sexy as she probably thought she was. Valeria kept looking and realized that the girl that was dancing was not a beauty queen but she was beautiful and had a nice body. Maybe she had worked on it so much that she just wanted to show it to the world. It was nice to see how much confidence a single person could have.

 Melissa came out of the bathroom and, once more, they had to go through almost the entire place to get to their table, where both their boyfriends and some more friends were drinking and trying to chat over the sound of the music. Valeria sat down by her boyfriend and he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. She smiled at him. Valeria knew that he realized how much she didn’t like these kinds of places and that it she had only become because of her friend. After all, Melissa was turning twenty-six years old and they wanted to celebrate properly. Her friend did like the place and was practically dancing and singing all the time they were there. It would have been very rude and silly to say no to the invitation.

 Valeria’s boyfriend decided to take her to the dance floor and dance slow to the song that was been played, never mind that the rhythm of the song was substantially different. But they didn’t care, as the real intention was to be separated from the rest and just be there, the two of them, sharing one more moment in their lives. The truth was that William, Valeria’s boyfriend, was a pretty serious guy. He knew what he wanted of life and, actually, he was getting there already, before he turned thirty. He was already making tons of money in a business he had invented with his father, had managed to make Valeria his girlfriend, which was pretty difficult, and was a hopeless romantic that any woman would love nearby.

 He was about to make one of those romantic moves when the music was cut off and, through speakers, people were advised to evacuate the club as there was a small fire in the kitchen and they wanted to prevent any accidents. People began to move towards the exit and, a few minutes afterwards, they were all outside. The fire was apparently not really serious but the night had been cut short. Melissa was sad because it was the celebration of her birthday, so her boyfriend came near William and talked to him. Valeria didn’t hear, as she was hugging her friend who was cold and sad. The boys came by and told them they could continue the party in William’s apartment. Valeria looked at her boyfriend and he blinked at her. Secretly, she didn’t like when he tried to hard.

 All the way to his apartment, Valeria kept thinking that the only reason he was doing all of this was because he felt he had to impress her, even as she had already impressed her many times, in bad ways and good. He could be so impulsive sometimes and, as she had thought before, he tried to hard. It was as he didn’t realized that Valeria already cared deeply for him. Why did he keep trying to make her commit to something more serious? Wasn’t it serious enough to be there with here in her best friend’s birthday party? And now they were going to his place. Valeria sometimes felt that she needed some time away from him and his ways.

 William’s place was simply huge, for any young men owning an apartment of their own. Or even for any man owning something like that. It had a Jacuzzi in the main bedroom and a big living room with a terrace besides it. They could take some air at any time or just smoke a bit, not that William did those things. For such a young guy, he was very well balanced. They all sat down on the couches, as William invited them to check out his wine cellar, where he also had other types of liquor. Their friends chose vodka and whisky. Melissa, who was already very drunk, turned up the music and started dancing in the funniest way possible. Her boyfriend was pleases with the situation and everyone celebrated her for it.

 Valeria had grabbed a cup of wine and sipped it slowly. Alcohol didn’t affect her that much and she knew how to drink, not like her best friend. She had to dance with her from a moment, when they did a hilarious choreography to a popular song that was the rage all over the place. Everyone laughed and cheered to them and Valeria was happy to see Melissa happy. After all, they knew each other since they had been in kindergarten and had not been too far from each other since. Melissa proposed to use a karaoke system William had and they had fun with it for hours, laughing and singing and just having a great time. It was a such a perfect moment that no one dared to disrupt it.

 Later that night, William told everyone that they could stay there for the night if they wanted. They could arrange something in the morning for breakfast and then everyone could go home. They all agreed and in no time people were laying snoring in the sofas, which happened to be very comfortable. Melissa and his boyfriend took the guest room. Valeria was not thrilled about this because her friend was really drunk and her boyfriend was not the sharpest tool in the shed. She didn’t want her to do stupid things while drunk but, then again, she was an adult and if she went to that room with him, it was his decision. Anyway, she was going to be next door if anything happened.

 Obviously, Valeria had to share the bed with William. She had done it several times in the past as they had been dating for over a year and she had spent a good amount of that time in his apartment. But that night, she wasn’t really looking forward any type of “fun” or sexy time. Sex was just not on her mind and she hoped she didn’t have to tell him. They dressed up for bed and lay down together, William hugging her from behind. They talked for some minutes until he fell asleep. But Valeria just couldn’t do it. She felt very hot for some reason, so she decided to slide out of bed in order to go the bathroom. There, she stared at the mirror for several minutes until she realized she wasn’t really doing anything.

 What she was thinking was making her very uncomfortable but she had to be honest with herself and acknowledge that she felt she didn’t love William anymore. She even wondered if she had ever loved him truthfully. Valeria certainly thought so, but now that she saw what kind of person he was, she had to be honest and say that it wasn’t the kind of person she thought he was. It wasn’t about finding prince charming or anyone like that. Actually, Will was kind of a charming prince but maybe it wasn’t meant for her. Se hated herself for thinking such a thing. She washed her faced and dried it slowly, breathing heavily, as if she had been out for a run or something. She was just to worried by her thoughts.

 She went back to bed and lay there besides him but just didn’t sleep. They all had a great time during breakfast, everyone a little bit hung-over but very grateful to William that had proven to be a great host. They all thanked him before leaving and, as Valeria hugger her best friend goodbye, Melissa asked her if William had done anything unexpected. This confused Valeria but then her friend’s boyfriend took her out and just said goodbye. Valeria cleaned up the plates and everything else, as William decided to take a shower. Then, as she washed the plates, she realized what she was doing and just dropped one of the plates to the floor. She looked towards the room but she could only hear the sound of water.

 As she picked up the pieces, something clicked on her head. She left what she was doing and ran towards the bedroom. She then looked for the jacket William had been wearing and looked in every pocket but found nothing. She looked in his pants, his shirt drawer, among his underwear and sock. Nothing. Was she going insane? Then, she realized the water had stop running a while a go and he was standing there, on the doorframe, naked. And he had a little case in his hands. Valeria suddenly had no air in her lungs and just collapsed. That should buy her some time.

Sex app

   It was very cold outside but I just had to smoke. It was one of those times when I just needed to fill my lungs with that damn poison that we all know and hate but sometimes need desperately. I was only wearing my boxers and I had put on his jacket in order not to freeze my ass while smoking at six AM like an idiot. The view from the balcony was amazing: as the building sat on one of the many hills in the city, you could see the business towers on one side and the ocean in the other, as well as hundreds of cars rushing one way or the other. The air smelled delicious, like fresh bread. I noticed there was a bakery just across the street and an elderly couple where entering the store, buying their morning bread so early.

 How did they do it? I don’t mean wake up this early to go and buy bread. I mean, how did they stay together for all these years, without boring each other or drive each other mad? I know and feel I would have the capacity to drive any other guy insane. For life… That tends to be a fucking long time and that’s something I’m not really comfortable with. I have never been able to keep a relationship with anyone for more than six months and this couple may be celebrating their sixtieth anniversary together. No, I think I would have died a long time before that or gone mad. I have a tendency to move around, never standing still for too long. I just couldn’t.

 I finish my cigarette but I don’t really want to go in. Thankfully I brought the pack with me along with a lighter. I lit up another one and feel it comforting my skin from the cold. Winter is done or at least that’s what all the people in the news say. But t sure doesn’t seem like it. My ass is freezing and I don’t know what else to do besides smoking like mad. I let my beer inside… Fuck!  Could have used that. Well, life isn’t perfect at all, shouldn’t I know that. I’m the man working in his father’s flower shop. I have to say I don’t hate it or anything but I would have liked to get so much more from life.

 I went to school and everything. I mean, back in high school I was a great football player and not very smart but in college I discovered I had a thing for numbers and all that. I’m good at that and that’s why dad asked to work with him. I keep the books in order and thanks to me his store is working much more efficiently than before. I even caught someone stealing for him, so I guess I did a great job. But I would have liked to have my own business, make my own decisions and just be myself in life. But this happens when you look for a fucking job for three fucking years and no one even thinks of helping you, giving you a hand. So here I am, thirty-two and still working for daddy. It pays well so I shouldn’t really but hey, I could bitch professionally.

 I turn around and see him there, sleeping as if he had just taken a magical potion to sleep like a log. He looks nice asleep… Not that he doesn’t look nice while awake but you know what I mean. I don’t really know how I got here, I mean, how it was that I accepted to come. To be one hundred percent honest, I met him earlier today on one of those apps for the phone where you get people to fuck with. Yeah, I was that bored. I just downloaded the thing and in an hour I had gotten lots of messages. Which is amazing the body I had back in high school has almost completely disappear. But I guess I have my thing and he noticed it.

 He looked nice in his picture, cute smile, nice guy he seemed. So he asked to come to his house in the middle of the night and here I am. The sex was great and he turned out to be a great guy, very nice and well mannered. But that didn’t stop me from coming out to this freezing balcony to smoke y heart out. It’s maybe because I don’t really like this kind of situations. It annoys me that I have to use those apps and shit to get to know someone to fuck. I mean, it makes it easier but one wonders if it’s all because of me or because he was horny or what.

 Down in the street the elderly couple has just come out of the store. They are holding hands and each one of them is carrying a brown paper bag with what I guess is bread inside. They walk closely together, maybe because they’re cold or maybe because of the love they feel for each other. Either way, they look perfect, happy and just beaming. They disappear after I follow them with my look for a couple of blocks. No one else is really out there except some of those idiots in bicycles and some others obviously heading to the gym or some shit at this time of day. My only obsession is smoking and maybe a beer or two but that cult on the body, I never got it.

 I hear my cellphone’s voice mail ringtone. It only lasts for a couple of seconds but I instantly worry it will awake the guy. But no, he doesn’t even move. I open the sliding door carefully, walk slowly to my pants and take out my cellphone from one of the pockets. And come out again, closing the door behind me. As I take another puff, I realize it was my ex who just left me a message. He’s drunk and says I fucked him up or something. He says I was great always but that I drove him insane. In the background I can hear very loud music. The message ends suddenly. I check it again but hear nothing out of the ordinary so I put my cellphone in the jacket.

 He has already done that, a couple of times after we broke up. It had to be said that it happened like four months ago and he still doesn’t get over it. And he should. Not only because it’s bad for him to hold that inside for so long but because he seems to forget he was the one that send our relationship to hell. I mean, that’s what normally happens when you want to surprise your guy with a nice present that you bought him in a nice little flea market downtown and you just find him in his house fucking another guy. Yeah, that’s what happened. Once I entered with the keys he had given me, I realized there was something wrong but you know people, we always want what we know to be a lie. But it wasn’t. He was fucking that guy hard.

 I’m not the kind, soft type. I opened up that door with a fucking kick and took pictures. Yeah, I did. I was driven insane and just wanted to fucking destroy him. He begged me not to show those to anyone and then I knew what was really important to him. I didn’t even look at the guy he was fucking, who just jumped like a rabbit and into the bathroom; maybe scared I would kick him in the balls. I wanted to. Fuck, I really did but I knew I could get into trouble if I did that. So I just took the present, my cellphone and what was left of my dignity and walked away.

 That ended up the relationship. Again, I’m not one of those stupid people that talks and decides and all that shit. For me, that was it. So I never saw him again. No accepting calls or messages or presents from him. Nothing. And yet, he still calls when drunk and has the nerve to blame me for him fucking another guy. I have to be clear on this: I don’t give a shit if he had a reason to go and fuck around. He felt neglected or needy or whatever? Cool, he could have told so to me and just have a healthy breakup or talk about it or whatever. But no, he took the whore’s road and here we are.

 I don’t even hate him. I stopped feeling anything for him at that moment. Yeah, I guess I cried a bit but I got over it. Again, it was a short-lived relationship and I never expected it to last for too long. But it hurts more when it that person who disappoints you. Because I can see me disappointing anyone and I have. But never like that and never before taking time to sit down and talk about what’s happening. It may seem cruel but I always tell them “You’re not my type”, “This isn’t working” and so on. I cut the shit and say the truth because I believe we all deserve that.

 So I guess that’s what makes me uncomfortable about this whole sex app thing. I mean, it’s great that we just cut to the chase and we know what we’re there for but maybe it’s too blunt, to direct. I would love to be able to charm someone into having sex with me and not just ask. Fuck, maybe I’m a romantic that way but doesn’t it fell better when people are attracted to you as a person and not just because you are another horny guy in their area or something? People nowadays seem to just be fucking around but not really caring about anything else and that kind of bothers me. But I guess that’s the way it is and who am I to say anything? Any way, this might be my only time in this so, who cares.

 Then, I feel two warm hands holding my waist and lips kissing my right cheek. We share a kiss and a hug and then we go back inside. I spoon him until he falls asleep and just before I do that myself; I realize things are as I want them to be. So I’ll smell his hair and enjoy his smile and just see where I can take this later today.

Twenty seven

   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.