Quinta Vida: Recuerda y aprende

Everything is ok when you are happy, when you seem happy. For other people we try to look our best, to mean what you say and to appear trouble-free. I've been doing that for ages. I don't know what it is but my life has been a series of pretended states of elation/happiness/success... Maybe it was my education, my background. I used to be the first in my class, every year. I used to play instruments as anyone else; I used to read books far beyond my age without any problem; I used to be an exemplary son. I used to charm everyone with my intelligence and modesty. Although I knew I was better than many others, I never boasted about it. Never needed to. I even remember two people on the bus having a conversation about me and my achievements... They've heard about my success at school and they didn't even know me and I was sitting next to them! As it was expected from me, I didn't introduce myself, just sat next to them, feeling my face getting more and more red...

All that modesty, that bloody success actually disbalanced my life altogether. People expected too much from me. Well, they just wanted a little bit of the same ángel descuidado. The same dish they were used to taste. Did I deliver? Not really. I just couldn't or couldn't be bothered anymore.

One day, in one of those drunken conversations a friend said that he wanted to be remembered as someone who did something important; someone who could be in the history books and be there forever and that he thought that should be everyone's ulterior motive in life. I don't know what to say about that, but I have learnt that being modest doesn't take you far. In fact, doesn't take you anywhere. Even to become a saint you have to fight for that... Believe me, I come from a catholic background.

Long time ago I thought I was someone. Not now. With the new technologies I would google my name and the only thing you could find, until the facebook era, was my father's obituary, which is not nice, considering that he wasn't a proper father. Only because I know my mother well enough I'm sure he was the one whose genes I carry, although he was never there. So that means I'm not anyone, yet. And the problem about pseudonyms is that they are not really yourself, that's why you use them. To be someone else. I could be talking about my fictitious life.

Then I was naïve as you can be. Now I have learnt, the hard way all right.



I remember Callas singing that aria from La Wally: Ebben?... Ne andrò lontana She's so far away from home and might not come back... Ever...