Phalanx mystery

   Everyone that crossed William’s path was always amused by what he did for a living: he was the marketing manager in a company that sold condoms called Phalanx. He was very popular at parties, telling one and ten stories about the funny things that happened both in his department and in the factory where the condoms where actually made. He even knew some other stories about people that had called the Phalanx hotline in order to ask silly questions that no one ever knew if they were real or false.

 The point was that he had a lot of fun at work and out of it. However, for a person that saw condoms so often at work, he didn’t really get to use a lot. In one of those ironies of life, William had not had a real sexual encounter in a long time. He was a very busy person and he always failed to have time to party or socialize except for the events hosted by Phalanx. The few times he met people was in those parties but they were always funny for a while but not for the long haul.

 Every single Monday at the office, they held pitching sessions in which any of the employees of the company could present new ideas to make the product more attractive. Normally, they would laugh a lot more than do actual work but sometimes, once every six months almost, they got a very clever idea that could easily become a big thing in the world of condoms. Anyhow, it was a very fun thing to be in and most people were very serious about their ideas.

 There was the typical things like making condoms into different sizes or different flavors and colors, but then they were the crazy people telling them to sell condom certain foods in supermarkets, or not only having flavors but also smells, which everyone thought was absolutely awful. They laughed a lot the time that someone proposed to print images on the condoms and even the possibility of personalizing them with your signature. It seemed like a good idea but it wasn’t.

 There were some good ones like having a guy dressed like a penis or condom in some popular area and make him do funny dances and stuff and then handing out pamphlets about how important it was to use condoms. Others had made proposals about the packaging and image that they were really considering. As in any industry, they needed to keep innovating and doing different stuff or they would get obsolete.

 But there was one presenter William remembered for weeks after they moved on. William had always identified as a straight man but somehow that man had captivated him and he had no idea why. It was something more than looks and his idea. It was something he could really pinpoint.

 The man’s idea was very simple: in each one of the condom packaging’s, putting a drawing of a different position in order to kind of make it like a challenge towards the couple that was going to use the prophylactic. Everyone received the proposal to mild enthusiasm and only William seemed to be distracted by the guy that was in front of him. For weeks, he had him inside his head moving around, appearing in the weirdest moments and it was a long time after that, when they were executing some of the ideas people had pitched, when he realized why he thought of him so much: he knew him.

 That day, after all work was done, he went to the archive room and asked fro the file on that man. Apparently, he had been working in the office for as long as William had been there. He was his same age and had gone to the same college too. The difference was that that guy hadn’t been able to ascend in the company whereas William had climbed that ladder a lot faster than anyone else ever before. He was very talented at what he did.

 When he got home that day, he was relieved to realized he didn’t like the guy for his looks or something like that but because he unconsciously knew something weird about him. He couldn’t really remember him from any of the classes in college but apparently something inside his brain did remember him and had been curious to reveal that.

 As tired as he was, William relaxed that day with a bubble bath. He was so tired that he fell asleep inside and only woke up because he was slowly sinking into the water. When he got out of there, he just dried himself up and fell asleep naked as he was on the bed, above the sheets. He must have woken up at four in the morning only to crawl under the covers because of the cold.

 After the weekend, he stumbled into his old college partner in the elevator on the way to his office. It was kind of an awkward moment: there was some tension between them but William had no idea why. He knew now that he wasn’t interested in that guy physically and that was the only thing that had been weird before. But now everything was tension and looking down to their shoes and it was very strange.

 For the rest of that day he didn’t really pay attention to anything else because his mind was still trying to understand what had happened in that elevator. He tried to remember anything about that man but he just couldn’t remember him in college. Maybe crossing him one or twice in the hallways but that was it. He was so distracted during the pitching session that day, that he missed every single one of the funny presentations. His fellow managers would laugh and he would just smile.

 The following day, he was lucky enough to have dinner with a friend from college he had not seen in a while. She had always been one of his best friends back in college and now she worked out of the country in a job that paid very well. So they got together and talked and laughed and drank and ate. It was a very fun evening. When the dessert was brought to them, William remembered the man from his office and instantly asked his friend about him. He described him as well as he could and she was surprised by the degree of detail he was able to give her.

 His friend had no idea of whom he was talking about. Then, William looked for a picture on his cellphone and showed it to her. Crazy as it seemed, William had taken a picture of the file on the guy in order to remember his face the next time he saw him and now he got to show to his friend so he didn’t see how awkward it was.

 Then, she immediately recognized him. Trying not to laugh at her friend for having some random guy’s picture on his cellphone, she reminded him that that guy had been a good friend of the people they used to hang out with during college. He would even go to some parties with them although she didn’t even remember his name. He wasn’t a particularly social person but she knew she had seen him a number of times around there with them.

 William thought about that for a long time. He looked at the guy’s picture that night before going to bed and then spent a good half hour trying to sleep but really thinking about why he had no idea of who that person was. The next day at the office, he got the rumor that many people were being laid off because the company had decided to wipe out a whole section in order to make room for new people that were going to be in charge of social media and such.

 As he went to get coffee, he saw the guy from college with a single box, eyes very red, standing in front of the elevator. He had no idea why, but he walked towards him and asked what was wrong. The guy was obviously surprised to see William but he just answered the question: he had been fired. William offered to help him with the box and in the time from there to the first floor, he was able to remember who that guy was.

 They had kissed once in a party. William had been very drunk. He was sure to have vomited at least a couple of times that night. And somehow, in between all that, they had kissed. He gave the box to the guy and told him to call him if he needed any help. The guy seemed confused by that and honestly William was too. He didn’t know why he had said it but he thought it was the right thing to do.

Sock Empire

   The place only sold socks. They were everywhere and in every single color you could imagine. It was very nice to see rows and rows of different tones and drawings on them. Special socks for Christmas, for Halloween, for Thanksgiving, for Valentine’s Day, for Easter and even for New Year’s Eve. Every employee knew where everything was and how socks were made and could help a costumer find anything they wanted in a matter of a few minutes. There was a reason why the store was called the Sock Empire.

 The Empire was also divided into types of socks, not only color, and between those made for men, for women and for children. Ruben Rostenkowski had been the creator of the Empire and many of his competitors admired him for his amazing take into the world of footwear. People had been focusing so much on the foot for so long, that it was refreshing that one store could focus its whole attention solely to socks and all the types that existed.

 No one knew how Ruben had come up with the idea but they were envious he had had it. Everyone in the city knew he made millions of dollars every year and only from the main store. He had stores in other states but they were not as extravagant and amazing as the one in his hometown of Cleveland. He had been born there over sixty years ago and, although he had lived and worked in other parts of the country when he was younger, he decided to go back to his home in order to make his dream come true.

 Back then, Ruben was just a young boy, not really a full adult. He was still shooting cans with his air rifle and drinking the content of those cans with his group of friends. He had gone to school to study medicine but the truth was that Ruben was the lousiest student ever. He attended only half of his classes and the rest of the time he just spend it with girls and drinking. For all that, he wasn’t apparently as childish. After all, he was twenty-five years old.

Many thought that a man that owned such a store dedicated only to the foot had to be some sort of fetishist. And they were right. Ruben found that out in college, as he met lots of beautiful and not so beautiful young women. The first thing he did every time, as a form of foreplay, was to massage the girl’s feet. He would do it in such a professional manner; the girls never really realized he was so into it. To be honest, he was obsessed with it as he detailed every foot he saw, the curves and the skin and the complexity of it all. He was very obsessed.

 In class, he would suffer sometimes when a fellow student decided to remove her shoes beneath the desk. He instantly wanted to touch the foot and have it for his own but then he remembered he was in class and he couldn’t risk shaming himself even more than he already did when getting drunk. So he learned to breath deeply and just think about something else, maybe even count backwards in order to relax his mind and get any ideas out of it.

 It worked, sometimes. Other times, he would just ask the girl out and massage her feet as soon as he was able. He decided, and that a very healthy choice from him, to visit a shrink. He was sure a person with enough experience in these things would be able to help him stop his obsession and live a healthy life.

 However, it was a surprise when the psychologist told him it was pretty normal to have a fetish. He told Ruben most people had one, whether they realized it or not. Maybe it was a hair fetish, or maybe a “tall” fetish or maybe even weirder stuff like liking sex in costumes or always in public spaces. The point was, and the doctor repeated it constantly, that it wasn’t a disease and it wasn’t something bad as long as he learned to control it and not the other way around. So he advised him to get a hobby with which he could control the thoughts he had.

 It was difficult to find the right hobby, though. Ruben had never been really good at sports. Actually he sex appeal didn’t come from his body at all but from the way he spoke to women and how they responded to his voice and careful and intriguing demeanor. Anyhow, he still tried to play softball, rugby and gold but he failed miserably at all of them and it was then when he noticed he had started looking at men’s feet and he hadn’t even realized.

 Now he was really worried because in his mind he thought that his obsession had made him gay. But after calming down and watching a pornographic movie, he realized he was not interested in men, at all. Only their feet. So it was in that moment when the idea of the Empire first came to his mind: he thought that if his obsession was to be put to good use the best thing to do was something with feet.

 He looked everywhere and finally found a small workshop where people could go and learn how to make shoes. Of course, it was more about seeing the process than doing it because the materials were not all that easy to find and the idea was to attract people into the footwear business. There were just a few sessions but he became obsessed about shoes now and started reading all there was to now about the history of shoes and also about the making of shoes.

 As far as Ruben’s parents were concerned, they were happy to see him doing his last year of med school. He entered that time when he actually had to help patients and do shifts in a hospital and so on. But he was as lousy in that as he was in class. Besides, he was reading all he could about shoes and started thinking a business dedicated to shoes might be just what his life could be all about. Making them was not that easy but maybe selling would be a lot more interesting. He would see feet every day but he would have under control because it would be his job. Perfect.

 But after months of research, he realized the market was just filled with shoe stores selling the same types of shoes to every single idiot in the United States. He had to be unique and bold.

It was around that time that Ruben met Carly, a student of reflexology. She wasn’t from college but she had attended a rare conference about the subject there and Ruben had instantly fallen in love with her. She took some time to liking him however, but after some weeks they were dating and enjoying each other’s company. They rapidly found out about their mutual interest and engaged in long and detailed talks about the history of the foot and its pressure points.

It was the day Carly took him home for Christmas, when he realized his biggest idea yet. Her grandmother was there, a lovely lady, and she was knitting the socks that were left for Santa to put on the presents. And it was then when he had the idea to dedicate his business, not to shoes, but to socks. He told Carly this over dinner and even her parents thought it was a very funny and smart idea. They had never seen a store that only sold socks.

 The following year was the one. It was hard at first because Ruben had to drop out of college only months before finishing. His parents were devastated and told him not to come back home. He was destroyed by that but moved on thanks to Carly, who traveled with him to Cleveland, finding a nice flat for the both of them. There, Ruben created the logo of his company, the idea, the details of the first store and so on.

 He asked for a loan and with that he set up shop and asked for socks from all around the world. Then, he decided to wait a year and see how it went. If it failed, he had lost a lot of money. If not, it was just the beginning.

 That was the birth of the Sock Empire. The name was made fun of sometimes but he loved it and people loved what he did with the place. He would come into the shop sometimes with Carly in order to visit his workers and shake hands and tell everyone how much he thanked them and how much he loved his sock world.

 Even now, years after his invention, he still massages Carly’s feet before bedtime. And he still looks at all the feet he can on the beach and on his store. After all, he couldn’t stop doing something that gave him his livelihood and so much happiness.

Forgotten

   I had always liked to stay at nice hotels and now I had the chance to do it often do to my job. I paraded around the globe trying to sell them these products and in exchange I got to stay in great cities and beautiful hotels every so often. Of course, there were not five star hotels and were rather aimed at pleasing businessmen and not film stars or something, but I really liked them.

 One time, for example, I was sent to a rather small town but they put me in a big hotel with all the amenities possible. It was five stories high, had a nice view of the airport and even had a pool. So the first thing I thought, even during my meetings with various people that day, was when and how to get into that pool. I had planned to get to the hotel by six in the afternoon and just run to the pool as it closed at seven o’clock.

However, when I was picking up my things n my room, a hotel towel and so on, I got a phone call. It was someone from work but I decided to pretend I was busy or a heavy sleeper and not answered. Actually, I deliberately left my phone in the room as I left it for the pool, which was amazing. The water’s temperature was perfect and I had all for myself. Possibly that was because the hotel was nowhere near top capacity but I didn’t really care. I just enjoyed the moment and swam across the pool multiple times until I decided it had being too much. Strangely, no one had come to tell me to get out of the pool and I was sure it was eight o’clock, at least.

 I went back to my room and the phone was ringing again. I decided to pick up and realized no one answered. The number that appeared on the screen was from one of my bosses but no one spoken when I answered. I hung up and just lay down in bed about to turn on the TV but somehow I got very sleepy in a second and I fell asleep right there. I had a dreamless night and when I woke up I was slightly startled. I thought I had overslept but it was still two hours until I had to wake up to leave for my flight back home. But I couldn’t get back to sleep so I decided to check on the news. Nothing interesting.

 I decided to shower and use all the little soaps and shampoos I could and those I couldn’t I would put them in my luggage. Again, the water was perfect and I spent more than enough time in the shower but because I suddenly felt sleepy again. I had to close the water and lean against the wall to recover. I grabbed a towel but when I did the world had started spinning and I just fell hard to the ground. I did not pass out instantly. My eyesight was blurry and I could feel a presence and some distorted sounds. Just before I feel into a deep slumber, again, I thought I saw something and smelled a very particular scent.

 When I woke up, I wasn’t in my hotel bedroom. I was in another hotel bedroom, more likely a motel. The walls had stains on them, there was a smell of rotten food or something and I realized it was pitch black outside. I concluded I had been kidnapped and, of course, I had missed my flight. People would already be looking for me, as they knew at what time I supposed to be home. I hoped they were looking because that place really felt off. Something was not right and then I smelled the same scent I smelled before I feel asleep naked on the ground of the hotel bathroom. I realized I was now wearing some kind of robe. I checked it and realized it had the emblem of the hotel I had been staying in. Then, the door of the room opened and that smell invaded the small space.

 The door was close and there he was. A tall man, wearing a black hat and a coat. I had never seen him before but he had this look, like what someone would look like after escaping a mental institution. I decided not to say a word and just wait for him to day or do something. But he stayed there, standing up by the door just looking at him. When I tried to move, I realized one of my wrists and one of my ankles, were tied tightly to the bed. I was tied to them with rope. And I was very week suddenly so I decided not to fight against anything. Was this a crazy guy that kidnapped people and killed them far away or was he going to torture me in some gruesome manner that I couldn’t even understand? The thought made me tremble.

 And it was then that he moved, towards me. I saw his eyes more clearly and they are very red, as if he had never been asleep in his life. He was older than I had thought at first and, to be honest; he didn’t seem as deranged as I had thought he was. Still, he didn’t say a word. However it was me who started asking for him to release. The time for waiting for him to act had passed and now I needed to make him understand that maybe I was the wrong target or maybe I could convince him not to kill me. But he didn’t seem to care about what I said. He just looked at me with those red eyes and it was uncomfortable and I just started to get very desperate. I was weak but I pulled and cried from impotence.

This seemed to work on him because he blinked a lot, as if he had been woken up from hypnosis or something. I took advantage of his apparent confusion and started to beg him. I asked him to release me and I swore I would never tell anyone what had happened in that room and what he looked like. I told him I didn’t know who he was or what he was trying to do but that I respected him and wanted him to know I wanted to be respectful of him. All of this came like a waterfall of ideas that just ran out of my mouth as I thought about them. I was desperate but said anything in a very controlled way in order not to seem as crazy as I thought he was. Then, he turned his head and walked towards a table I had not seen before.

 From the table, he took something and took his time doing something to it. I thought that he was going to start torturing me for sure but then he turned around and I realized he held a needle in his hand. Before I could even think anything, he jabbed it on my leg and, once again, I fell into a deep slumber and only felt him go away, maybe out of the room and the scent of rotten food fill the space in my mind. This time I did dream. It was about my childhood and the first boy I had ever kissed. My mind kept repeating the memory like a damaged DVD player or something. I felt anxious and then I woke up and I happened to be back but not in my hotel room but in my home. The first thing I did, after I realized I was still wearing the hotel robe, was to call the police.

 Sure enough, I had disappeared for a whole week. I almost fainted again when they told me. Apparently, I just remembered one day out of seven he had me in his custody. I told everything I could to the police, all bout the guy’s look, the smells, what I could remember about the motel and about the syringe he had jabbed in my leg. They made me go through several medical tests and so on in order to know more about he had injected in me. It apparently was a very strong liquid that made anyone go limp in a heartbeat. So they thought he might be a doctor of some kind, maybe even a veterinarian. But I had never met either, not close at least.

 My mind was just so full of things, of cut memories and of fear. Because I knew he could’ve done so much more to me than he did. He didn’t kill me, torture me and the rape tests came out negative. I had been kidnapped for some reason and the person responsible had done nothing to me. The police did their job, I can’t complain about that, and they found absolutely nothing. They just couldn’t get anywhere with what I knew and with the other few evidence they had. Not even security cameras had registered him into my room and no one anywhere had apparently seen such a man. I got fed up with it all when a psychologist insinuated that maybe I had imagined all of it. Never trusts shrinks, am I right?

 I decided to go back to my work, my home, my life. I was very scared to be alone at home so I bought a dog and a cat and just tried to get by, without ever thinking about what had happened that day. My trips are less frequent now and I just have fun the few times I leave for business. However, I never sleep well in hotels and I tend to spend a lot of time in the bar area. I drink so I can sleep faster and just make the night go more smoothly for me. Since what happened, I can’t stop thinking that maybe I knew him from something, maybe I had met him once and now I didn’t know. But a hypnotherapist didn’t help, as I thought. I’m just never going to know what exactly happened and why and maybe that’s the worst part of it.

Diez mil

   Sin oxigeno no podríamos vivir. Ese es un hecho innegable. Sin agua tampoco o sin los minerales y vitaminas que consumimos con cada alimento. Nuestras vidas, nuestra existencia como especie depende de muchos factores, muchas veces pequeños, que deben existir para nosotros existir también. Pero algo que también debe haber para seguir adelante son las ideas. Sin ideas, cualquier ser humano se estanca y comienza a repetirse, comienza a ser lo mismo que ha sido antes o lo mismo que otros han sido antes, que puede ser mucho peor. Sin imaginación, la única ventaja evolutiva del ser humano se muere y, sin darnos cuenta, nos vamos muriendo por culpa de la rutina, de hacer y decir lo mismo todo los días.

 Como el aire que necesitamos respirar, la imaginación es clave para que cada individuo puede sentir que tiene posibilidades. No importa de que. Sea de progreso o de reproducción o de ser el mejor, sin imaginación y las ideas que produce no podríamos nunca tener nada de lo que quisiéramos, sea algo “pequeño” o algo “grande”. El tamaño de esas ideas es algo relativo ya que no son lo mismo para cada persona pero son esenciales para ir impulsándolo por la vida. Sea aprender más de algo o conocer a alguien nuevo o de pronto lograr ese puesto deseado, todas son ideas, también llamadas ambiciones, que mueven el motor mental de cada ser humano y lo hacen ser inventivo para llegar a lo que quiere.

 Hay que hacer la diferencia: las ideas no son sueños ni anhelos. Estos casi nunca ocurren de verdad y tienen siempre un elemento que los hace imposible de realizar. Los sueños, aunque parezca que no, son cosas que uno quiere ya, sin mayor esfuerzo. Son ideas fantásticas pero no ideas prácticas o realistas. Ser presidente es un sueño, por ejemplo. No es que sea algo imposible pero no es realista en la gran mayoría de los casos. O por ejemplo tener un cuerpo definido e “ideal”. No es realista si la persona busca obtener ese cuerpo sin el menor esfuerzo posible.

 En cambio las ideas son casi siempre estructuradas, tienen un proceso y una razón por existir. Nadie tiene una idea sobre algo que saben en lo más profundo de su ser que es imposible. Un idea siempre parece factible para quién la propone y casi siempre lo es. Hay excepciones pero esto ocurre cuando las ideas se mezclan con los sueños y crean un híbrido que es fantástico pero parece ser algo que se puede alcanzar.

 Hay ideas buenas e ideas malas. Eso está claro. Pero nunca es malo tener una idea como tal porque eso quiere decir que estamos reflexionando, que estamos usando nuestra capacidad de inventiva y de creación que es lo que nos hace humanos. Por supuesto, nadie dice que todo ser humano debe ser un inventor empedernido ya que eso no sería realista. Pero sí sería bueno que todo ser humano se acercara a su vida diaria con una mirada más analítica y menos fatalista. Que busca resolver problemas y hacer cosas con ideas, estructurando lo que se debe hacer y haciéndolo. La gran mayoría de la gente no es así sino que hacen y hacen y hacen y esperan a ver cual es el resultado, esperando que las consecuencias estén a su favor sin habérselo propuesto tal cual.

 Obviamente la vida no puede ser tan cuadriculada de planear cada momento. Todos sabemos que incluso haciéndolo así, la vida siempre tiene sorpresas y ocurren cosas inesperadas que nos toman por sorpresa y nos hacen dar cuenta que son pruebas que buscan analizar como somos y que tipo de persona hay en nuestro interior. Hay momentos que sí es bueno dejarse llevar y ver que pasa, porque a veces la mejor idea es ceder y esperar o simplemente seguir adelante y ver que ocurre.

 Esto último fue lo que yo hice con mi blog. No fue algo que yo hubiese planeado desde hace tiempo, eso es verdad. Pero fue una idea que tuve a raíz de un momento difícil y fue la única respuesta que tuve para poder canalizar mi energía en algo más que no fuese aquello que me estaba agobiando. No le iba a entregar mi vida a los sentimientos, a las cosas sobre las que no tengo control alguno. No iba a quedarme mirando más y tomé la decisión de crear un blog. Está claro que no es una idea revolucionaria ni para mí ni para nadie pero era lo que necesitaba en ese momento. Y fue así que me puse a escribir las historias y fragmentos de opinión que tal vez alguien haya leído alguna vez. Eso, nunca lo sabré a ciencia cierta.

 Pero, de hecho, ese no es el punto. La idea, de nuevo, fue hacer algo por mi y debo decir que lo logré. Al ponerme una regla de escribir todos los días algo nuevo, me impuse a mi mismo un reto. No era una prueba de atletismo ni una prueba mental excesivamente difícil. Era solo escribir lo que se me viniera a la mente y subirlo a internet para ver que pasaba. Pero lo más importante era el hecho de escribir. Siempre se supuso que yo escribía pero yo no lo hacía casi nunca. Traté de escribir una novela y lo hice, tal vez mal o bien pero, de nuevo, no es lo importante.

 De hecho, debemos dejar de concentrarnos en si lo que hacemos estará bien o mal a los ojos de otros. A menos de que sea ilegal, deberíamos hacer o que nos plaza, lo que nos llene el corazón y nos haga felices o al menos no llene de esperanza y de imaginación. Porque eso es lo verdaderamente importante a la hora de hacer lo que sea que se quiera hacer. Si no se saca nada de ello para uno mismo, no tiene sentido. Incluso la gente que va y ayuda a los más necesitados, saca algo para si mismo. El placer de ayudar, de ver a otras personas felices o tal vez solo el hecho de sentir que se puede hacer algo por los demás. No importa cual sea la idea, que es lo que se haga, con tal de que sientas algo después de hacerlo, igual que en el sexo.

 Hoy me di cuenta de que mi blog ya tiene más de diez mil visitas. Para mi es un logro, no importa cuantas de esas visitas hayan terminado en la persona aburriéndose y prefiriendo ver algo en YouTube o en Facebook. Todos tenemos el derecho de que algo no nos guste. Ciertamente hay un montón de cosas que a mi no me gustan pero no por eso voy a dejar de sentirme contento porque tengo un logro más en mi bolsillo. He escrito hasta ahora doscientas ochenta y nueve ideas, sean cuentos o piezas de opinión. Todo escrito por mi, pensando casi siempre en el momento y tomando inspiración de lo que hay alrededor, de lo que soñé, de lo que he vivido y de lo que he visto en mi vida, que es corta para algunos y larga para otros.

 Sé, sin embargo, que esta idea es solo un escape temporal. Lamentablemente no puedo vivir de escribir un blog, al menos no uno como el mío, y debo cumplir ciertas reglas como ser humano. No son cosas que yo elija, o que quiera de hecho, pero son cosas que todos debemos hacer, como una obligación que tenemos con la humanidad. Una de esas es trabajar, algo que yo nunca he hecho en mi vida. Jamás me han pagado para nada. Y no es fácil, porque sin experiencia todos creen que laboralmente no vales nada. Yo daría lo que fuera para que esa dejara de ser mi mayor preocupación pero no va a dejar de serlo, ni para mi ni para nadie.

Esta idea me salvó cuando tuvo que hacerlo pero no puede seguir haciéndolo por el resto de mi vida. Seguiré escribiendo, por supuesto, y quiero llegar al año de publicar una historia por día, pero después de eso no sé que pueda pasar. Hago movimientos suaves, tengo ideas en mi mente que voy ejecutando despacio, pero el mundo va mucho más rápido, a un ritmo tan acelerado que a veces es difícil siquiera pensar en que es lo que está pasando y porque está pasando. Como dije antes, lo importante es tener ideas, no importa las que sean, para seguir adelante y vivir como se pueda.

 Los sueños son bonitos, están hechos de adornos y luz y color pero personalmente los detesto porque son ilusiones. Hoy en día tener sueños es muy popular porque se le ha vendido a la gente que es la única manera de conseguir lo que quieren. Básicamente es lanzar una moneda a una fuente pidiendo un deseo y esperar a ver que pasa. Es una estupidez. Los sueños son cosas que jamás van a ocurrir y que si ocurren es porque nunca fueron en verdad sueños sino esas ideas de las que tanto les hablo. Si se realiza, es porque la persona se esforzó e hizo lo necesario para que su idea rindiera frutos. Y creo que eso fue lo que ha ocurrido conmigo. No me interesa tener el blog más visitado pero que alguien lea, así sea una sola persona, uno de mis textos, es motivo de alegría sin duda alguna.

 Nada cae del cielo, nadie va a responder nunca a nuestros pedidos y esa es la realidad. Religioso o no, eso no tiene nada que ver. O tal vez sí, pero no es el punto. El punto es que no podemos sentarnos a esperar que lleguen las riquezas y las ventajas que queremos en nuestra vida. Y si lo hacemos, debemos estar conscientes de lo que esa decisión significa. A veces sentarse a esperar no es malo, si se sabe lo que se está haciendo. Como dije antes, ninguna idea es mala porque siempre las ideas serán ambiguas. Al fin y al cabo son creadas por seres humanos que están hechos de errores y recuerdos y dolores y alegrías. Una mezcla peligrosa pero muy fructífera.

 En todo caso, sea como sea, le doy las gracias a quienes hayan leído alguno de los cuentos que escritos alguna vez. Y, si me lo permiten, les pido que se queden conmigo en este viaje el mayor tiempo que puedan porque sé que todavía necesito la ayuda, ya que sigo perdido.