MY REALITY
ARE YOU A PATIENT?
The sun was shining trying to illuminate the window of my mind, it was a warm afternoon so I decided to expose myself to the rays of that luminous light, naturally I needed to look for a place where to sit as usually do to cogitate or to read some refreshing books painted with the blood of those whom I really admire because they can destroy or save the life of many people but obviously the decision remains in the hands of the people who read those sometimes magniloquent lines. I took a book quite philosophical to wonder about existence. I went to sit in front of a chapel to use its walls as a support for my back. I was wearing blue jeans, a blue sweater as usually do to combine my clothes’ colors or to bring into actuality my autistic ideas. I was reading as a narcissistic because I was absorbed by that loaf of bread called book, suddenly a man with a suspicious sight, smoking a cigarette, carrying a small bag in his back, wearing green jeans and a black sweater came to me quite prudently and timidly. I stopped my reading immediately to look at him. He threw his cigarette on the floor as in the movies people do to burn everything that is present at that precise moment. I continued looking at him without saying anything. He was closer to me; he looked at me as well and asked me with a quite elegant voice: are you a patient? It is the first time in my life up to know that someone asked me about my reality but I did not want to accept so in the blink of an eye I told him: no, I am not. I know my answer was miserable and unrealistic. What that gorgeous and brave man did mean by patient? Probably he meant something of his condition. Did he see me as a patient? Do I have signs that told him I am a patient? Who is a patient? I let it for the specialists to give us a sophisticated definition or to speak about the etymology of this term. I am going to speak about myself.
I think I am a patient, because I have been out of the ordinary things more than twice, many times I got tired of being told by the society what to do or how to behave. I am a patient because I hate normality. I am a patient because many times I build up my own close and vicious world and because my narcissistic tendencies make me believe I am the center of this world. I am a patient because I am addicted to the aroma of life. I am a patient because many times I doubt of my own identity. I am a patient because many times I project my sadistic perceptions into innocent people. I am a patient because many times I do not know what to do with my work. I am a patient because many people told me splendid things but I do not believe it. I am a patient because I think you are a patient. I am a patient because when I went to the doctor he gave me medicaments for you. I am patient because I write about me, about my private life, I know I should not do it but I should not go against my own conceptions. I am a patient because I laugh at myself too much. I am a patient because many times I loose control of myself in order to control myself. I am patient because a patient has defined me so. I am a patient because I am just 26 years old however I am in a religious congregation. I am patient because I want to live only for God. I am a patient because I confront my reality everyday. I am a patient because many times I say to myself punitive messages. I am a patient because some times I have an auto destructive complex. I am a patient because some times I overestimate myself. I am a patient because I say what I think, because I am different. The only thing that can tell you I am not a patient is the level of the characteristics I have described before. My madness is sanity.
Now, I can ask you: are you a patient? The lovely man did not ask a question, he affirmed something that nobody told me.
Phoenix
The sun was shining trying to illuminate the window of my mind, it was a warm afternoon so I decided to expose myself to the rays of that luminous light, naturally I needed to look for a place where to sit as usually do to cogitate or to read some refreshing books painted with the blood of those whom I really admire because they can destroy or save the life of many people but obviously the decision remains in the hands of the people who read those sometimes magniloquent lines. I took a book quite philosophical to wonder about existence. I went to sit in front of a chapel to use its walls as a support for my back. I was wearing blue jeans, a blue sweater as usually do to combine my clothes’ colors or to bring into actuality my autistic ideas. I was reading as a narcissistic because I was absorbed by that loaf of bread called book, suddenly a man with a suspicious sight, smoking a cigarette, carrying a small bag in his back, wearing green jeans and a black sweater came to me quite prudently and timidly. I stopped my reading immediately to look at him. He threw his cigarette on the floor as in the movies people do to burn everything that is present at that precise moment. I continued looking at him without saying anything. He was closer to me; he looked at me as well and asked me with a quite elegant voice: are you a patient? It is the first time in my life up to know that someone asked me about my reality but I did not want to accept so in the blink of an eye I told him: no, I am not. I know my answer was miserable and unrealistic. What that gorgeous and brave man did mean by patient? Probably he meant something of his condition. Did he see me as a patient? Do I have signs that told him I am a patient? Who is a patient? I let it for the specialists to give us a sophisticated definition or to speak about the etymology of this term. I am going to speak about myself.
I think I am a patient, because I have been out of the ordinary things more than twice, many times I got tired of being told by the society what to do or how to behave. I am a patient because I hate normality. I am a patient because many times I build up my own close and vicious world and because my narcissistic tendencies make me believe I am the center of this world. I am a patient because I am addicted to the aroma of life. I am a patient because many times I doubt of my own identity. I am a patient because many times I project my sadistic perceptions into innocent people. I am a patient because many times I do not know what to do with my work. I am a patient because many people told me splendid things but I do not believe it. I am a patient because I think you are a patient. I am a patient because when I went to the doctor he gave me medicaments for you. I am patient because I write about me, about my private life, I know I should not do it but I should not go against my own conceptions. I am a patient because I laugh at myself too much. I am a patient because many times I loose control of myself in order to control myself. I am patient because a patient has defined me so. I am a patient because I am just 26 years old however I am in a religious congregation. I am patient because I want to live only for God. I am a patient because I confront my reality everyday. I am a patient because many times I say to myself punitive messages. I am a patient because some times I have an auto destructive complex. I am a patient because some times I overestimate myself. I am a patient because I say what I think, because I am different. The only thing that can tell you I am not a patient is the level of the characteristics I have described before. My madness is sanity.
Now, I can ask you: are you a patient? The lovely man did not ask a question, he affirmed something that nobody told me.
Phoenix
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