This year has been really... unexpected... yes, I think that would be the right word to describe it. And not because I am minimizing the tragedy caused by the Covid19 pandemic, nor the political crises in different parts of the world, nor the deaths in Peru, victims of police repression... no, nothing like that.
This year is particularly unusual, because for the first time in many years, I dared to open an old dusty box that I had kept in my library. I hadn't thought about its contents since I closed it 2 years ago, so I let it gather dust there. It will seem like a self-punishment, what I am about to narrate to you in this story, which is more a kind of frustrated diary and a compilation of incidents and frustrations than a novel in itself. I don't pretend to be an exemplary author or a novelist, my specialty is theater and I feel comfortable there, but I had to get the poison out of my soul somehow... and well... this is the way I chose.
My story, is possibly the story of any other person in the world, similar perhaps to that of the man who goes to work in his own car or cab, of the salesman who gets up at dawn to supply his business and ensure bread on the table, or maybe why not? this story is also a reflection of your own life (Yes, I know it sounded very Coelho and I can not feel more outraged by this comparison that I myself raised).
Where to start? It's always the most complicated thing... I guess for telling you about myself. It would seem that it is irrelevant and that in reality, I can't have lived many things at my 33 years old, but the truth is that I have? What you will read below is my story and also the story of my love failures, as well as what I learned from them. It is a story as common as any other, I will present my friends, as well as false friends that I discovered along the way, I will present the good and the bad that I saw in my journey through this world and also the things that I treasure the most and that maybe for many of those who read me (of course, I assume that they will be many... sometimes I exaggerate a little with the estimation) they will be interesting and others will find them funny or even pathetic.
Well... this is the beginning, little by little I will write to make way for the experiences that I kept in that box and that today I reopen to shape them in a story.
Thanks for reading
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a dying man
Non-FictionI found that old box hidden behind a bunch of other boxes. I hadn't thought about its contents in 2 years and to be honest, I had already forgotten it was even there. I opened it and began to review its contents, rediscovering my past, with things I...
