He was just here

   Raymond felt he sand between his toes and just kept on walking, not even realizing he was walking towards the ocean. To him, it didn’t matter anymore. His life was stuck on a loop and he had lived what he needed to live. He felt there was nothing more he could do or that he could get out of life on Earth. He had decided to think things by taking a walk and, unknowingly, his subconscious had already decided that it was time to end it all. The water reached his pants fast, and then his underwear. Then his belt, his shirt and finally his glasses. The current and the sheer strength of the ocean did the rest, taking his body from that cold, windy beach to the bottom of the ocean, from where no one would be able to take it for some time.

 He wasn’t someone people would miss and, although the ocean released the body, the police didn’t identify him for several months, as no one would ask for him. When they finally did identify the body as Raymond Bloom, it happened just because of a casual matter and not because someone was looking for him. The truth was he had no wife, no children, no parents and no friends. According to the information an officer was able to gather, he had lived alone for at least twenty years in a small attic on a very old building. The place smelled awful, as no one even knew the owner was dead. The officer found there some leads on who the man was and, maybe, on why he had done what he had done.

 Officer Jenny Marshall was one of those people who believe the best of every single person. It was strange for a cop to have such an attitude towards life but there she was, trying to cheer people up and making the best of her day every single day. She had been transferred recently and it was only the second post she had held ever so she wasn’t really assigned to the streets or to some interesting investigations. Jenny normally did the paperwork for every case and was in charge of keeping the archives in order, something she took very seriously. Deep down, she knew that her male counterparts loved to see her tie down to a job that didn’t lead anywhere but she ignored that fact and just did her work.

 Investigating the death of Raymond was assigned to her because she requested it. She told her boss she wanted to change her work a little and such a case would be perfect for her. After all, it seemed pretty straightforward and she could even do all the paperwork herself. So she convinced her boss and there she was on Raymond’s apartment, pinching her nose to avoid the foul smell of rotten food and trying to uncover the reason why he had committed suicide. To Penny, personally, it was not clear how a person could do such a thing. For her, life was sacred and no one had the right to take their own, even if they felt helpless and desperate. She knew there were always better options.

 She went through Raymond’s things and discovered that he had been published. The books did not look very nice on the outside but then she decided to sit down on the bed and just read one of the many stories the man had written in them. One was particularly moving; dealing with a ghost that saw how his childhood home was tore down to build an apartment building. She found very interesting but very sad too. She kept on looking for clues on Raymond’s house but she realize the only thing worth looking in there was his books so she put them all in boxes and took them to the station. She would try to find something in them and get to the bottom of the case, that way making everyone realize she could be a great agent and even a decent detective.

 Jenny started ready every single one of Raymond’s stories at work. No one really said anything to her because she wasn’t annoying anyone and she was doing her main job, which was taking care of the all the data. As she did that and on her free time, she would only read and read everything. Months passed until she had read every single piece of writing in Raymond’s apartment.  It was winter now and the last words she read from him where strangely appropriate for the climate: “I feel the cool breeze coming and telling me it’s time to go”. That was a short story about a man radically different from Raymond, with family and love all around him.

 The officer decided to let the case go for a while, so she went home and spent the holidays with her parents and her boyfriend and every other family member that had decided to come to the city for Christmas. She had a wonderful time eating and talking and dancing. She laughed a lot and wished for life only to be like that, full of joy and people whom you loved and who loved you. She realized Raymond’s writing had begun to depress her a bit but her family and all the love and special mood of the season brought back to her the best feelings and that nice warmth that only love can take to someone’s heart. And then, right in the Christmas dinner, she understood what had happened to Raymond.

 He had killed himself, not because he was weak or suffering in a too awful way. He died because he was alone; he had no one to take care of him or to even listen to what he had to say. And that was obvious just by reading what he wrote, as he said everything about anything he had ever thought about in life. It was amazing to read about so many things, but funny and serious, happy and sad, short and extremely long. His writing had been the way for him to externalize every single thing he had bottled up inside, as he ad never had anyone to properly talk and share his thoughts with. He had been trapped by his own life or, at least that’s what Jenny thought. Even if he was to blame, he had no choice.

 When the holidays ended, she wrote her report on the death of Raymond Bloom and decided to properly request her transference to the detective’s unit. She knew she could do more there and when her demand wasn’t accepted, she resigned the police. Jenny had learned from investigating Raymond that she needed to do with her life as she wanted, she couldn’t afford not living and not doing what her heart demanded of her. She didn’t want to end up like Raymond, all alone and talking to the books because there’s no one there. Unappreciated by the world and ignored to the point when, at her death, no one would ever think of grieving her. She wanted more from life and, eventually, she got it.

 Raymond’s books were donated to a public library and it was almost two years later when Jenny saw Ray’s name on the news. She was working with the FBI and now had a partner and was properly working the field. But during the investigation of a case, she saw the headline and bought the newspaper to find out what it was all about. Apparently, a book expert had been investigating the libraries of the cities looking for antiquities and particular books and so on. He had discovered Raymond, who had been an unknown author all his life, and declared he was one of the best storywriter he had ever found. He didn’t know that Ray was dead but he did know something else that Jenny didn’t: Ray hadn’t been as alone as she had thought.

 According to the article, the man had found several letters in the apartment Raymond had lived in, now turned into a posh flat. During the reforms on the place, they had found several letters and the expert had read them, discovering he had owned a dog for a long time and that he had died just about the time the author had stopped writing. Besides the dog, he had been in love with someone he described thoroughly in his letters, every physical aspect and some traits of characters. The letters, with such richness and passion, ended up being edited into a book that sold millions of copies, making the expert a rich man.

 Jenny was sad that Raymond had not been there to enjoy his fame and fortune. They eventually discovered he had committed suicide and that made his letters and all his books even more popular. Eventually, there was no one that didn’t know the name of the author and his tragic story. Jenny had thought, for a moment, that she had known the author but she realized she never did. She realized that no one had ever known him properly. He had been in love, that man who felt so alone and so sad. He had experienced life and life had not experienced him and Jenny felt that he finally understood why he had done what he had done. It was clear as water and she wouldn’t argue with it.

 Raymond became famous, as well as his views on life and his pain, which was painted all over his letters. But no one would ever know him as he was already gone and everyone had lost the chance to tell him “I’m here”.

El tacto

El tacto siempre ha sido mi sentido favorito. Me encanta como se siente el  pasto bajo mis pies, como se siente pasar mi mano sobre la piel de alguien más o como se siente la respiración de otra persona en mi propia piel. Todo eso siempre me ha fascinado y no quiero decir solo porque me guste sino porque me encanta saber todos los detalles de cómo y porqué respiramos, como se comporta la piel y como todos somos susceptibles a ello. Sería horrible perder el sentido del tacto, que es el que más usamos junto con la vista y, en menor medida, el oído. Para mi todo siempre ha estado en el tacto, en como las personas se pueden comunicar, sutilmente o no, a través de algo tan simple como tocar a alguien más o tocar algo para que otros vean el significado.

 Eso sí, aclaro siempre, que no soy experto en toca ni mucho menos. Soy solo una persona que a veces ansía el tacto de otro ser humano y por eso me la paso pensando lo bien que se siente cuando alguien sabe besar o sabe abrazar. Todo el mundo relaciona estas actividades al amor y la verdad es que el amor poco o nada tiene que ver. Así como no hay que haber estudiado arte para dibujar, tampoco hay que estar sumido en un romance de lo más tórrido para saber besar y comunicar algo con ese beso o con ese abrazo. Son simples interacciones entre seres humanos que acaban siendo de máxima importancia para poder dar pasos en una dirección deseada, cosa que cambia según el o la implicada.

 Recuerdo, y creo que todos recuerdan, su primer beso. Yo tengo dos historias, como creo que todos tenemos, pues la primera vez en mi vida fue un juego de niños que lo único que cambió fue como percibía a las niñas en ese preciso instante del mundo. Después, debo decir que se me olvidó toda recolección al respecto hasta años después, cuando lo vivido se había convertido ya en solo un recuerdo sin mayor trascendencia. Sin embargo para ese niño de unos siete u ocho años, ese preciso momento fue casi eléctrico. No solo por la sorpresa, porque fue un beso salido de la nada, sino también porque en ese momento de la vida de todo niño un beso con una niña no es especialmente llamativo sino algo que quieres evitar. Así que creo que por eso nunca volví a pensar en ello.

 Caminando por la playa o posando mis pies sobre el frío suelo de parquet del sitio donde vivo hoy y ahora, recuerdo también ese otro momento de mi pasado que cuento como el primer beso intencional de mi vida. La verdad fue algo… algo húmedo, podríamos decir. Él era muy lindo, muy amable y muy particular y me invito a un beso justo antes de separarnos, al final de nuestra primera o segunda cita. Fue en un callejón peatonal algo oscuro, con árboles pequeños a un lado y otro. En ese momento, a diferencia del anterior, mi vida cambió. Ese besó me gustó tanto que me certificó mi gusto por el tacto y por los hombres.

 Esa risa tonta, la que todos conocemos, se me pegó como una infección difícil de quitar de encima. Pero no digo infección como si fuese algo malo sino como algo que simplemente no se podía quitar con nada y, al cabo de un tiempo, me di cuenta que era mejor no quitármelo de encima. Esa sonrisita tonta es algo que hoy me fascina pues es en ese entonces esa sonrisa tan particular era sinónimo de mi inocencia y de los poquísimos pasos que había dado en el fantástico mundo del amor y sus vertientes. La verdad, no sé decir si estuve enamorado en ese momento. Fue hace mucho y era otra persona. Pero me gusta pensar que fue mi mejor versión la que tuvo esa sonrisa en la cara, quién vivió esos momentos tan especiales e irrepetibles.

 Ese beso lo tengo tatuado en la memoria porque fue tacto, fue información impresa en mi mente para siempre. Lo mismo pasa con mi primera experiencia sexual, casualmente con la misma persona. Recuerdo todo como si lo pudiera ver en mi cabeza una y otra vez como un video. Pero lo que me hace recordar todo es lo que sentí. Lo tengo mejor guardado que otros recuerdos similares seguramente porque fue algo tan especial, tan nuevo. Y no es que idealice nada y crea que todo fue excelente, nada de eso. Pero sí fue la primera vez y fue una entrada sutil y muy alegre y optimista a un mundo de experiencias de las que tomaría nota como ahora.

 Pero no todo es amor. Es difícil recordar las primeras veces que caminamos o la primera vez que comimos algo muy particular. Lamentablemente la memoria humana no es tan buena como para recordar tantas cosas con tanto detalle. Pero hay experiencias que vivimos a diario que guardamos y atesoramos como si fueran únicas e irrepetibles, tal vez porque lo son. Algo tan simple como, después de mucho tiempo, poder quitarte los zapatos y caminar por arena en una playa. El arena tiene tantas consistencias y formas que cada playa puede ser recordada con facilidad por esas percepciones táctiles particulares: muchas piedras, conchitas, muy fina, muy caliente, muy húmeda,… Y así.

 El viento, en cambio, lo he percibido siempre igual. Recuerdo haber ido a las ruinas de un castillo, ubicadas en la parte alta de una colina empinada, y como se sentía el viento en mi cara. Era no solo frío sino húmedo y parecía que pesaba. No hacía calor pero se sentía en el aire que el clima quería mejorar e iba a mejorar. Se sentía en el aire, tal vez, algo de cómo se habían sentido las personas que habían vivido en aquel lugar, con el viento viniendo del mar de manera tan directa pero siempre con cierta personalidad, si se le puede decir así. En otros lugares, en cambio, el viento es limpio y parece ser casi imperceptible. Es más, se siente como si te limpiase suavemente.

 El agua también es especial en mi mente, tal vez porque desde siempre me ha gustado nadar. Atención, digo nadar como nada cualquiera y no profesionalmente ni nada parecido. No soy nadador ni me veo como uno pero disfruto, sin duda, estar rodeado de agua. Recuerdo, porque no está tan próximo, que el mar tiene esa particularidad de hacerte sentir tan pequeño como eres. Cuando tu cuerpo entra y te alejas de la orilla, sientes que algo más allá de tu cuerpo te envuelve y parece querer quedarse contigo para siempre y la verdad es que, hasta cierto punto, estás dispuesto a quedarte allí y sentir como el agua parece pegarse a tu cuerpo, como si no te quisiera dejar ir nunca. Eso siento yo al menos.

No sé porque el agua me devolvió a los besos. De pronto los tengo en la mente porque necesito uno o porque me intrigan de sobre manera. Si nos ponemos a pensar, y no hay que tener la experiencia de la vida para esto, todo el mundo besa de forma diferente. Esto es porque todos tenemos experiencias distintas pero también porque nuestros labios y nuestra piel percibir el placer de besar de forma ligeramente distinta. Por eso hay quienes gustan de besos más “elaborados” que otros y hay gente que le gustan los besos como son, sin adornos. El mejor beso de mi vida? Difícil decisión porqué depende de lo que estaba sintiendo en el momento. Pero al menos no he conocido muchas personas que no sepan hacerlo.

 Sin embargo, esto nos ayuda para pasar a un tema básico al hablar del tacto y es que no todo nos gusta. Hay abrazos mal dados, hay gente que no sabe dar la mano o simplemente experiencia que quisiéramos nunca haber vivido. Por ejemplo, yo odio tocar tela de araña. De pronto porque esos animales me ponen nervioso, pero también porque como lo siento no me gusta y me saca de mi estabilidad por un momento. Besos mal dados los he tenido, particularmente recuerdo a un tipo que parecía querer comerse la cara de alguien cuando besaba. Creo yo que estaba tan obsesionado por terminar que ni siquiera sabía como empezar. Ese es un error típico pero no debería serlo si aprendemos a sentir.

 Con esto último quiero decir que deberíamos tomarnos el tiempo, todos los días, de ser consientes de lo que hacemos con nuestra piel, de poner atención a si nos gusta o no y como se siente. Solo sabiendo esto podremos saber quienes somos de una manera algo más completa. Obviamente que no todo es tacto y hay mucho más en el mundo para formarnos una idea de lo que hay y de lo que somos pero creo que es una buena manera de empezar. El tacto brinda cierta inmediatez porque siempre está ahí, activo y pendiente de lo que esté ocurriendo. Mucha gente cierra los ojos al besar e incluso dejar de oír y oler el mundo. Pero nadie puede dejar de sentir por voluntad propia y ese es un milagro a agradecer.

Unexpected

   Adam had always been, to the eyes of others, perfect. He had always been taller than others, but not too tall. He was also smart, but not exceedingly intelligent. He was a very sporty guy but also found time to enjoy and participate in so many other activities such as theatre and dancing. Besides, everyone loved his physique, his smile and his nice and gentle way of being. He was perfect, as said before but the only thing people judged him for was the choice of his career. He had envisioned, at first, to become a professional footballer. Then, as he was stopped everywhere he went, he was asked to be a model several times and he enjoyed every experience he had doing that. He even acted on a couple of TV advertisements for products aimed at young people.

 So it was a surprise, to everyone, that he ended up being a porno star. Yes, Adam had found a way to earn his life honestly by taking his clothes of and having sex on camera. As a model, he knew he looked great on camera and as a sports player he knew his body was more than enough to be able to pose naked. The sex part was the most awkward for him but once he got to know the people, it was more comfortable. He had chosen this path, solely because his family was having money issues and he wanted to help them as much as he could so the best way to do it was with porn, as they paid fast and generously. Before he realized, he became one of the favorite actors and he was doing movies in other places, travelling for conventions and getting more and more in the industry.

 Different was the life of David, who was not a perfect guy, or at least he would never be named as such by anyone he knew. He was not good at sports and he didn’t really like any of them. And the concept of going to a gym, a “cage for monkeys” as he put it, was not even in consideration. He was smart but not intelligent and he had no special talents, at least not that he had found in himself. Physically, David was rather short and not fat but not skinny either. He didn’t really like to take his clothes off at the beach but didn’t mind doing it in his house. David and Adam were very different but, somehow, they ended up in the same place.

 But not in the same capacity. David had gone to college and studied to become a film director. He loved movies and wanted to make his own, mainly science fiction and maybe some action ones. He loved everything that had to do with creation and writing and he was ready, at some point, to take over the world with his ideas. But that didn’t happen. Finding a job, specially when you’re young and have no experience. So David sent his curriculum everywhere and only one company responded. He only found it was a porno production company once he went there for an appointment with the head producer. But he saw it was money and he needed experience so he took the job.

 The two guys didn’t meet immediately or anything. Adam was too busy getting famous in his medium and, eventually, he even told his family about what he really did for a living. They were shocked at first and even prone to convince him not to keep working on porn, but then they realized it was that money that had put them through rough times, so they couldn’t really say much. With time, they learned to respect Adam’s decision and they would simply not ask him anything about his job, except maybe when it was him that brought it up, normally something from a trip or a funny story he had lived. He understood those unspoken conditions and was fine with them, as he knew his family would eventually be ok with it.

 He would travel a lot, going from city to city, country to country, visiting all conventions aimed at adult entertainment. The funny thing the first couple of times was the amount of people that recognized him. Both men and women knew who he was from ads online or his movies and that, to him, felt very strange but very good too. He would pose with many fans for pictures and would sign various deals in those places, to put his face on several products sold to adults, toys and so on, but he also signed on for more and more movies, in other countries and with actors and actresses he had never worked with. He had good experiences and bad too but he was always “the perfect guy” and that was even the name of one if his movies.

 David, on the other hand, was working very hard for not so much money. At first the pay was good but then he was transferred to another production company, one that was smaller, and his workload became much larger and his paycheck much smaller. He endured for a bit as others praised him because of his technical ability, something he didn’t even know he had in himself. He did so for several months until he was transferred back to the place where he had a better workload and was surprised to know they wanted him to do the lighting for all the top movies they were releasing. That meant, that all the movies he would do would be the ones the production company was going to push harder on their clientele and that meant also that David’s work would be known.

 The young man was happy to see that people know respected him more, even if they didn’t always knew his name. He had control over a whole section of these movies and, even if they weren’t what he wanted his life to be about, it was a good beginning, as his technical expertise would suffice to make someone important look at him. But at the beginning it was all about porn and filming in these crazy locations such as lavish mansions and fantastic forests and even a rundown train station. It was funny to him how everything got into porn in such an easy way and no one even doubted it would work.

 After returning from a filming in Japan, Adam had several hours on the plane to think about his life. He was as perfect and gorgeous as he would ever be and he had the favor of many people that surrounded him but he had started to wonder if he didn’t need something more in life, maybe something to call his own. He had the idea of starting a pizza business but the idea remained there on his mind because of the amount of responsibilities he had and that he couldn’t ignore. People were also asking why he didn’t have a girlfriend or a boyfriend but he would never answer those questions and he didn’t really know the answer. Maybe it was because, in that line of work, it was best not to combine your personal life and your private one and adult movies are something not every couple would understand fully.

 Meanwhile, David had been contacted by an independent filmmaker, who had asked him to pitch him some ideas for a mystery movie. He had seen David’s work in the adult industry and had also read some of his stories that he published online and had been surprised by his ability to tell stories. So now David had a way to slip away from porn and reroute his life towards what he really wanted. But as he developed the mystery film, he didn’t stop working with the company that had paid him for so long. After all, he had commitments to them and he didn’t wanted to just drop everything and move on to something he didn’t even know if it would work or not. So he opted for patience.

 Eventually the mystery film went into production and David decided it was time to leave the adult film industry. He announced it to his boss and they scheduled together his last film that would star none other than The Perfect guy, in other words, Adam. Curiously, it was Adam’s last film too before he decided to move along and create his pizza business with his family. The filming was very relaxed, despite being quite ambitious for a porno film. They had amazing cameras and lights and costumes. It was a true film being made and it was, for many, the first time porno films were being done in such magnitude, with such grandeur and potential. It was supposed to be a game changer.

 The truth is, Adam and David only spoke once and it wasn’t even a conversation. It was David telling Adam to move a couple of steps backwards for the lights to hit him in the best way and Adam complying. That was it. Adam was of course no interested in David, as he didn’t even acknowledged him at all. David, on his side, did look at Adam extensively as it was stupid not to but he got bored after the first half hour. He was just too “up there” and he was just himself. So after they wrapped up, everyone went home and carried on with their lives.

 Adam’s business was a success, although only in his hometown were the pizzas sold nicely and people would often ask him if he was who they thought it was and also asked for a picture. David’s mystery film was well received in festivals and he went on to win a couple of awards for it. He moved on to be a prolific director, notably adding very intimate scenes in many of his movies, all of them beautifully lit.

Depresión

   Es difícil mantener la compostura cuando sientes que por dentro todo está derrumbándose, cada columna de tu espacio interno parece estar hecha del material más débil en el universo y simplemente crees que ese será, sin duda alguna, tu final en este mundo. Pero la mayoría de las veces, la abrumadora mayoría de las veces, eso no ocurre. No se acaba el mundo, no te acabas tú ni se acaba nada. Si acaso, empiezan muchas cosas y el mundo cambia de muchas maneras. Lo peor del caso, es que los sentimientos que se desarrollan en ese momento solo tiene una duración de algunos minutos, de pronto algunas horas. Al menos eso sucede cuando la cosa no es tan grave y apenas es algo incipiente. Si todo eso pasa a ser algo permanente, algo con lo que hay que vivir, tengo que ser sincero y decir que no entiendo como alguien lo lograría.

 La depresión, y todos los sentimientos que se le unen para que sea lo que es, no es una bestia fácil de controlar. Aparece de un momento a otro y ataca de la forma más baja, de la forma en que tu mismo sabes que va a doler más. Al fin y al cabo, somos nosotros mismos quienes nos atacamos pues no es una enfermedad que venga del exterior de nuestros cuerpos como la gripa o el sarampión. La depresión nace, se incrusta en nuestro interior, y allí vive para siempre hasta que es combatida con eficacia o hasta que consume por completo al ser en el que esté alojada. Las dos son cosas difíciles ya que siempre se vive un poco en el limbo con esta condición, pocas veces es suave o extrema.

 Tomemos un ejemplo. Por ejemplo, ahí está Federico. Es un chico de unos quince años, va a la escuela como la gran mayoría de chicos de su edad y no tiene ninguna particularidad física o intelectual. Su única verdadera particularidad es un gusto por los videojuegos. Cuando era pequeño, como hasta los doce años, los juegos de video eran vistos por él y sus compañeros como lo mejor de lo mejor y se podían pasar horas y horas hablando de ellos y compartiendo información al respecto. Era la época perfecta para él pues los videojuegos le brindaban mundos espectaculares en los que él se sumergía por completo y en los que encontraba cosas que en la vida real jamás hubiera encontrado.

 Sin embargo, los niños crecen. Y habiendo pasado pocos años, las prioridades de sus compañeros cambiaron sustancialmente. El tema principal ahora es el sexo, por muy difícil que sea aceptar esto por parte de sus padres. Ninguno de los chicos ha hecho nada con nadie pero todos han visto pornografía y saben las reglas generales del tema. Pero Federico sigue con los videojuegos ya que, ahora más que nunca, le brindan un espacio de aprendizaje en el que no se siente como un bicho raro. Esto lo convierte en objeto de burla y comienzan entonces los nombres y las acusaciones. Eventualmente, Federico cambia de colegio.

 El cuento parece suave, no tan grave como uno podría pensar que pudiera haber sido. Pero todos sabemos a lo que pueden llegar los jóvenes, o cualquiera de hecho, cuando algo no es como el resto. Porque la verdad es que los seres humanos nos la pasamos hablando de derechos humanos y de respetar los gustos de los demás, pero en la práctica nos da terror cualquier cosa que se salga del contexto normal de nuestras vidas. Es por esto que viajar y vivir en otro país, con una cultura distinta, es muchas veces difícil, al menos al principio. Esas diferencias, que nunca son verdaderamente importantes, nos marcan e incluso cuando las ignoramos siguen estando allí. Y son tan válidas para el que las ve como para el que las sufre.

 La multiculturalidad y la diversidad son ideas muy bonitas pero poco realistas. En niños pequeños funciona, pues estos no están contaminados con nada todavía pero pasemos a la historia de Florencia, una niña de siete años, venida de un país en que la inmigración es muy poca, que de pronto se ve en la mitad del patio de un colegio en uno de los países europeos, la verdad no importa cual. La niña ve otras niñas con velo, niñas negras, niñas chinas, niñas altas, niñas gordas y en fin. Y, en principio, eso no es problema. Pero entonces llega a su casa y escucha los comentarios de sus padres, también nuevos en ese país pero con muchos más prejuicios que ella. Y así entran a su vocabulario y a su mente nuevas palabras que describen a sus compañeras de clase.

 Florencia, ignorante de cómo funciona el mundo, simplemente decide no juntarse con las niñas que son muy diferentes y solo con las que se parecen a ella. Cuando le piden que haga actividades con las demás lo hace pero sin hablarles mucho y prefiriendo ser un poco descortés para que entiendan que ella no quiere ser su amiga. Esta historia puede parecer algo extrema pero la verdad es que sucede todos los días y es sustancialmente peor si se le suben las edades a los involucrados. Todos estamos siendo contaminados, a diario, con información sobre unos y otros. Es cosa nuestra decidir si todo lo que oímos es cierto pero para ello se necesita madurez y conocimiento y no todo el mundo está dispuesto a ambos.

 Esas niñas discriminadas, al comienzo notarán esas pequeñas diferencias y actitudes y con el tiempo también crearán un muro contra los demás, para que esos insultos y acciones no les afecten. Pero nadie se puede esconder para siempre y ahí es cuando la depresión, la misma que le dio al pobre Federico por sentirse solo en su mundo, entra y puede causar mucho más daño que un simple insulto o incluso que una pelea verbal mucho más agresiva. Una vez más, hay que recordar que es algo que está dentro de nosotros y eso es mucho más difícil de combatir que nada.

 Preguntárselo a Carmen, una chica que cayó en la depresión por algo que parece tan simple como perder su trabajo. Toda la vida había soñado con trabajar en una revista y cerca del mundo de la moda y cuando por fin estaba lográndolo, la echan. La explicación fue que su rendimiento no era como el de antes y que además estaban prescindiendo de personal, cosa falsa pues después buscaron a una pasante para hacer lo que ella hacía, es decir que en verdad querían ahorrarse su paga. Esto, en principio, no debería causar ningún tipo de reacción negativa a parte de la rabia y la frustración por perder un trabajo y tener que encontrar otro, que jamás ha sido fácil en ninguna parte y nunca lo será. Los trabajos no abundan en ningún lado y eso fue lo primero que bajó de ánimo a Carmen.

 Pero luego fue su mente la que empezó a concluir cosas que no había porque concluir. Saltó a conclusiones como que en verdad la habían despedido por la calidad de su trabajo y entonces concluyó que no era buena en lo que hacía. Así no más, salto a la concusión de que si la habían echado porque no rendía la verdad era que lo habían hecho porque simplemente no era buena. Entonces comenzó un largo camino, en el que buscó empleo y simplemente no lo conseguía. Trató de encontrar ayuda en sus antiguos profesores y ellos la ignoraron o simplemente nunca supieron que los necesitaba. El caso es que empezó a recorrer una escalera en espiral pero hacia abajo y cada vez que gastaba una posible solución, se hundía más.

 De pronto empezó a llorar en los momentos más extraños y el dolor que sentía cuando se sentía sola y miserable era cada vez peor. Cabe decir que para lograr sus sueño, Carmen había viajado, alejándose de su familia y amigos y ahora todo parecía haber ido por la borda, cada vez más lejos de ella. Tristemente, las cosas nunca mejoraron para Carmen. Un día, en uno de sus peores momentos, sufrió un accidente. Aunque no fue grave, fue la prueba que necesitaba el mundo para internarla en un hogar de reposo. Sus padres y amigos ya estaban con ella pero ya era muy tarde para eso. Carmen estaba pérdida y no abría nada que la devolviera como había sido alguna vez.

 La depresión no es una enfermedad como tal. Es una condición que no es de locos ni de raros, sino de gente que no tiene las fuerzas para seguir, para creer o para permanecer. Hay muchos que no la entienden pues para ellos la vida es sencilla en ese aspecto y solo siguen adelante y no hay ningún problema. Pero para algunos la estructura de todo lo que los rodea es bastante débil y puede ser derrumbada con el golpe más suave. Así que, en vez de juzgar y jugar a que aceptamos a todos, lo mejor sería que nos interesáramos por los demás y dejáramos de fingir para que gustarle a los demás. Los demás no importan cuando estés encerrado en ti mismo y no haya escape de tus propios castigos.moem los necesitaba. El caso es ral pero hacia abajo y cada vez que gastaba una posible solucion que los necesitaba. El caso es