Life's Traffic

Today as I was returning home, there was an old lady selling pens in the bus. Nobody wanted to pay $1 for a pen and she left the bus cursing out loud.

Today as I was eating my vegetables soup, I remembered why I love writing.

I am writing in English because that gives me a sense of freedom and security even though pretty much everybody can understand this text nowadays.

Riding back home and this soup have the same savorless taste of failure.

I spent most of my life acting like the person I am not. I thought I was living this world of possibilities because my mother believed I could achieve more. I was trying to get the life I thought I had.

I was the kid that had rides to school. I could afford meals outside school. I always acted so strong that I even fooled myself about the real situation at home. I thought I was ok, I thought I was good enough.

Now, as time passed, I realize I was watching the real life in the sidewalk. What am I doing now, trying to live what I never was supposed to?

Today I decided to cross the street of illusions.

I can’t go further, and because I took so many time to get it, we are now in this terrible situation. I should have been happy with my awesome public high school. I thought I could be an engineer, I dreamed about being a professor. Now I am in the position where I don’t know how to do anything, I don’t have any experience or guts whatsoever.

What I had in mind? I thought I could be more than I actually could by memorizing textbooks. Now I am as useless as those books.

I can understand why the woman cursed at everybody. $1 is worthy blood, sweat, humiliation.

And I am not brave enough even to sell $1 pens in the bus.