Pilot in the stars

   The rumors were true. The whole colony had been dreading it would happen again, some day, and it had finally happened. Scouts and explorers coming in and out of the Field confirmed the destruction of an entire planet. According to them, the explosion was still visible in the nearby sectors and it was impossible to pass through the area. Many freighters had to take longer routes to rich worlds nearby, as the rocks that were floating around were sampling to big for such slow ships to handle.

 For the colony, this was especially difficult news. After all, it had been established many years ago precisely because a mad man had destroyed their former planet and they had to resettle in an asteroid field. Somehow they were the only ones, or at least had that idea in mind, that understood how real war felt like and how scary fanatics could be. That’s why they knew it would happen again and it did.

 Some of the colonists cried when they heard the news of the destruction, even more when they learned it had been a planet with a very large population and that had no why of responding to an attack of that magnitude. They had just died, with no way of even knowing they were going to die. The small room that served as temple to all religions in the colony was filled with flowers, one for each inhabitant. The guy that owned the flower shop was both happy and sad.

 Younger colonists, like Gregor, were not as hurt by the destruction of the planet as their parents. They understood it was something awful but hadn’t been old enough to feel their planet been destroyed in order to have something to compare the feeling to. Besides, Gregor’s parents had been mining in a far away planet when theirs was destroyed. According to them, it was something they felt deep in their hearts and it their minds, but Gregor was too young back then and did not remember feeling anything.

 Young colonists also worked and had responsibilities like helping around in the cargo area or in the commercial zone. The idea of the colony was that everyone could give something of themselves to make it all better for all inhabitants of the colony. It was a nice sentiment but difficult to handle as many passers by came in their lives for a few days and even a few hours. Ships came and went from the colony, used as a stopping point to refuel or have a decent meal before preceding their journey.

 Pilots were normally very talkative people and the colony was rather closed to the outside world so every piece of news came from them. It was often boring to hear them talking about the same old subjects but sometimes they did have very interesting insights about the other inhabited planets in the galaxy and the power players beyond the Field.

 Gregor was always interested in hearing the pilots talk. There was something in the way they told their stories, something so intimate and also universal, that made him want to leave the Field and get to know the world for himself. Once, sitting around fixing a machine in his family’s quarters, he decided to test the waters and get a conversation going with his parents about pilots and what they thought of them.

 His mother was a bit scared of them, not only because some of them were aliens, and she wasn’t still very used to that, but because they took so many risks when going from one place to the other. In her mind, the galaxy was a very dangerous place, filled with villainous creatures. His dad was, on the other hand, very interested in them but knew that their job was very difficult and sometimes even deadly. Pilots took many risks and not everyone was built to be one of them.

 Silence followed the conversation and Gregor broke it, by announcing he would love to be a pilot someday. His parents reacted in horror, dropping what they were doing, and looking at him as if he was sick. It was the first time they told him to go to his room and stay there doing nothing. They always wanted him to be helping, to be doing stuff, but now they just wanted him to be isolated and locked behind a door so he could think about what he had said and they could think how to counter that.

 The thing is, of course, it wasn’t and idea he had elaborated on that day. Gregor had been thinking of becoming a pilot for a long time. He even discussed it with a couple of pilots that told him that new blood was always needed but that it was essential that he had the courage to do what they sometimes didn’t have a choice of doing. Some of them had killed people, defending their cargo, their crew or their passengers. They were skilled not only in flying ships but also in different kinds of combat.

 It was a difficult thing for Gregor as any type of weapon was forbidden in the planet and any fights meant jail. The colony had gone out of its way to ensure that its inhabitants could live a life better than the one in other places. They thought that by banning violence, they would avoid it altogether, forever. But that wasn’t the case. After all it was a spaceport and fights always broke out and authorities couldn’t just arrest pilots transporting important cargo.

 That night he spent in his room; Gregor used it to think about what he was going to do with his life.  He really wanted to go away, to leave the colony and get to know other places and he was sure he could be a great pilot, even if he had never even tried to pilot anything.

 Decided and realizing his parents would never let him to do what he wanted, Gregor decided to just leave one night and try his luck in the outside world. He knew he could die or something worse but he didn’t mind. He was sick of staying behind, of just waiting for things to happen in his life. He wanted to be amazed by the galaxy and to see all that every planet had to offer with his own two eyes.

 One night, he went out of his room and left home with only a small bag with clothes and other essentials. His parents had not talked to him after their failed conversation and he was still hurt by it so he didn’t left them any kind of letter telling them what he was about to do. He just left and ran through corridor and hangars in order to get to the cargo area, were ships were refueled and taken care of.

 Gregor hid behind some crates containing food and waited until the workers left. It was well known that no ships could leave for some hours in the night, so he just waited there for all the workers to leave. The flight prohibition was only good for a couple of hours but it was more than enough for him to sneak into one of the ships and hide inside it. Once they realized he was there, it would be too late and no pilot would go back just for a kid escaping his parents.

 He entered the nearest ship, a typical cargo freighter, and hid between the tanks it was transporting. As he was not very tall and skinny, he could easily hide sitting down among all those tanks. After some minutes, he realized those were fuel tanks and decided it was maybe not a very good idea to travel near any of that. After all, it could blow it in any given second and his journey would be over.

 The ship next to that one was transporting cages and something made an awful noise inside of them. The third and last ship carried the typical crates and he went for it but wanted to go back as soon as he felt the awful smell in his nostrils. It was really awful, probably some kind of food considered a delicacy in another world but certainly not in the Field. He was about to leave when the ship closed its back door and he was trapped.

 He hadn’t realized the prohibition was over and all three ships departed at the same time. He had to hide there, among the stench, and try not to be detected. But after a while he just couldn’t hold it and started coughing like a lunatic. It was too loud for the pilot to ignore it. The door to the cockpit opened and Gregor was surprised to see a very tall women look at him and say: “You’re gonna die if you stay here. Come”. And he did and that’s how his big adventure started.

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.

The hunter

   The arrow passed just a few centimeters away from the rabbit’s head. It wasn’t the day to die for him. But a wild turkey and a pheasant had not been so lucky. They hanged on one side of Karl’s waist, dangling around as he marched through the woods looking for more game. But he didn’t find anything else to bring back to his shack so he stopped wandering around and went straight back to his place. It was a small cottage in the woods, just a few steps away from the lake. He had built it there so no floods could reach it but close enough to the water to get his everyday ration to cook and bathe.

 As he entered the house, he left the dead animals in a rough wood table. He took off his clothes fast and, with the sun setting in the distance; he came out naked of his house and walked to the lake. He didn’t even hesitate to jump into the cold water. He plunged deep and then resurfaced, scrubbing his skin with his hands. There was no soap and soap would contaminate the lake anyway so he just scrubbed hard, sometimes with a scourer but he only used that some times a week. He submerged many times, looking at the distance, to the sun, which was now glowing orange. As he cleaned his beard and every hair he had on his body, he thought about that decision he had taken a long time ago, the decision that had changed his life by putting him there instead of in the city, in a job with a family and so on.

 He didn’t regret he hadn’t decided to stay with his family or just make a family of his own. It haunted him but he was sure he didn’t wanted to be one of those family men. He didn’t have what it takes to be one and he didn’t wanted to be one. He had always wanted to be free, as free as any human could be and this was the way he had found to be true to his desires. His family had not thoroughly understood but now that didn’t really matter. It had been three years now since he had decided to live in the forest and he knew it had been one of the best decisions he had taken in his life. Here, among animals and plants and fresh water, there was nothing that bothered him or made him feel like there was something wrong. Everything here felt fair and well done, because it was.

 He had always hated the competition, the killing that people submitted themselves to in the “real” world. People used to use those words together to describe to him were their lives happened, as if hid daily life wasn’t real, just a figment of his imagination. Hunting was more real than any bank job he could think off. Swimming naked in a beautiful lake was more real than worrying every day if someone was going to hurt you or your loved ones in any given moment. His world was very real and he had chosen it because he couldn’t take what the world was anymore. It had been a done deal the day he was attacked on the street, mugged and stabbed. He had become disenchanted with the world so he decided to leave it for good and there was not a single day in which he regretted that.

 In any case, it wasn’t as if he never talked or chatted with another human anymore. Many people came to the forest, in spring or summer, and the park rangers had designated him as an official guide. He got paid a small salary but that wasn’t the important thing, it was the fact that he got to share his experiences and knowledge with visitors which was the best part of the job. He would take them hiking or trekking for hours, compensating them with beautiful vistas, information about every plant and animal living in the park and would usually end up with a small “party” by the shore of the lake. Those who wanted could swim but they would all celebrate with a local meal.

 He came out of the water and waited to dry off for a half hour by the shore. As the water dripped away, he threw small stones to the water, trying to make them skip. But he had never managed to do I correctly. Time passed so he walked up his cabin, showered by the orange light of sunset. Inside the house he cleaned up his feet and put on some warm clothes to feel some heat after his swim in the cold water. He decided to eat first and then skin his animals to be put away with salt to be preserved. He had no electric device, except a portable stove, so it was best to consume everything before it went bad. He would eat the pheasant in the morning and the turkey could last a little longer if he treated it well. He ate some vegetables he had cooked earlier and it was then when he heard the sound. He wasn’t sure he had heard it but there it was again.

 The hunter walked up to the window and stayed there. It was already dark outside and he had turned on a gas lamp he had but he decided to turn it off and wait for the sound to come back again. There it was… It was like a moan or a scream that was silenced. He was worried as there was no one else for the next ten kilometers. Maybe he was imagining things, maybe it was an animal or maybe some people had just decided to come into the park and get busy. It wouldn’t be the first time. He decided to stop worrying and walked away from the window but then there was a scream, a piercing sound that broke the silence of the woods in two.

 The scream came from deep in the woods, in the opposite direction of the lake. He didn’t know very well, but he though the scream was from a male. He decided to take his bow and arrow, a rope and his best boots. That person could be trapped between rocks, in the formations that existed in the park in that direction. Or maybe some animal had attacked him and he needed assistance before bleeding to death. There were a few wolfs and they could be very violent, as well as black bears who roamed around the forest for food. Once he was ready, the hunter came out of the cabin and started marching rather fast in the direction he had heard the scream.

 He walked and walked but he didn’t seem to get anywhere. He didn’t usually come out so late at night and his senses were not as accurate in the dark than in the light. But he was sure where he was going and pressed on, worried for the person that had yelled earlier. After some twenty minutes, he finally arrived to a rocky formation and he noticed, with his solar flashlight, that the rocks were tainted with what appeared to be blood. He turned off his light and decided to be still and hear. There were no screams, only crickets and other animals making sounds. But then, he heard panting and someone else, breathing heavily. He ran towards the sound and, without thinking, jumped right onto one of the persons there.

 Apparently he had done correctly, because the voice that had screamed earlier was begin for him to help him. Somehow, his voice felt strange, as if it had changed in less than an hour. But the hunter was a strong man and he was able to submit the man he was fighting with ease. Once he turned on the flashlight again, he gave it to the victim, who happened to be a young man, covered in blood. He was trembling but was able to hold steady long enough for the hunter to use the rope to tie the hands of the other guy, an older man who had his nose broken and seemed to be in a fit of rage. He wasn’t fighting anymore but his eyes were filled with hatred, filled with blood and pure rage. The hunter made him stand up and he told the young man to follow him, so they could call the rangers who would then call the police of whoever had to be in charge of this.

 It wasn’t long before they stepped into the hunter’s house. The tie man was sat in the hunter’s bed and the boy sat in one of the big chair by the only table. The hunter looked for the walkie-talkie he rarely used during this time of year and started talking into it, to no response. As he waited, he asked the young guy to tell him what had happened but the guy refused at the other one seemed to be preparing for another assault. When one of the rangers finally answered, he couldn’t hear a word because the kid had jumped from his chair, with a knife the hunter had not seen, and stabbed the man in the chest. The man screamed and the hunter realized it was him who had screamed earlier.

 He attempted to grab the young guy from behind but now he flung his knife towards him, cutting the surface of his chest. He took advantage of this to turn around and finish off the man in the bed, who bled out just there, looking at the kid with horror. The hunter avoided the kid’s next attack and just punched him hard in the head. The kid was groggy for a minute, time the hunter used to grab his bow and arrow. He told the kid the rangers would come soon, as they never received communications from here and they would be worried to know if there was something wrong. He suggested him to surrender and let him tie his hands.

 But the kid launched himself at him and he just let go of the arrow that pierced his chest deep. He fell to the ground, where the hunter grabbed him and tried to understand what he was saying. Because as he spitted blood, he tried to say something but it wasn’t clear. Then the hunter lowered his head and he understood a couple of words: “got revenge”. Then he died and the hunter never knew what those words meant.

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.