Martyr

Never give an compliment that’s not rightly deserved, it’s worse than an insult even though it sounds better.

I’m old… I feel 112 years old… I feel like my life should be ending instead of starting after some incident I rather not discuss here, my back is useless… I’m doomed to my bed, because being in a chair kills me… but my back its inn awful pain all the time, it feels like my lower back it being crushed. I remembered that pain in the back is a symptom for cancer on the spinal cord, and for a moment I wished that that was what I had.

… Maybe I like playing martyr, because I’ve been all charming today…

I would have made a great catholic, if I had found a mentor someone to guide me I would have become a priest I know it... but all the church ever saw in me, was another stubborn kid. Religion teacher never saw me as special despite my hidden devotion. I guess this is one of the things I never thought I’d share with anyone... I guess because I consider it a defeat... my faith wasn’t strong enough, to follow that path. I would have outgrown reason a science anytime if someone had showed me a less painful way.

My first communion was in deep conviction, I took it seriously as the blood and flesh of Christ, and I felt holy, receiving it with the most beautiful girl in school besides me.

I know I can do things.

Just not as good as I want them to be...

Why wasn’t I blessed with some extraordinary?

I know that I shouldn’t worry, that there is really nothing to worry about...

I should be smarter, wiser and experienced... I’m none, I shouldn’t be advising other people...

I did something I had been holding to do… I opened my old msn account, the account that I used in school. It’s not dead yet… I went there… there was none online. Like visiting an old desolate house, so many names… I don’t remember anyone, I just have some vague flashes of names, and I know I once talked to everyday.

I saw some spaces, people that have gone forward… I found an entry, Mauricio wrote it, I spend 8 hours of class every day of the week for 5 years with him, he had an entry on his blog, which I wish I could track back… he remembered his friends during his time in school… I wasn’t among them. I feel backstabbed.

I talked to Aiacos again; I talked about how sometimes I missed school, felt nostalgic about it… 

I have no clue why I dare to talk to people.

(8 days late)