WHAT COMES TO MIND IN THE SHOWER AT THE END OF THE DAY

BATH TOWEL

At that time I still lived with my mother, and I remember well that my wardrobe was just a small closet, one of those used for laundry areas. Almost nothing fit. And that bath towel took up half a shelf. In addition to the perfume, the clothes and the bag. I never stopped to think about how much space we can give up when someone takes up so much space in our lives. Or even when you give in.

That towel had been bothering me for a while. No matter how many times I opened the closet, it was always there, bothering me. Taking up too much space.

Some people take up too much space.

It's very easy to lose yourself when you have the impulse to color the world of someone who seems to live a colorless life. It's very easy to lose everything you have trying to fill someone's void. The truth is that colors fade for a reason. And voids fill what someone lost or let go. I don't want to demonize people here, but it's a fact that they live the consequences of their own choices and there's no way to change that. Each one needs to face what they brought upon themselves. And I only learned this after her.

I didn't think much about her for a long time. Even cause she was too close, indeed. But little by little that perfume began to disturb me. Great pains start very small. Almost imperceptible. Disguised in the subtlety of a sour strawberry candy that you swallow with a glass or two of water. Then comes the bitterness of some words. And you swallow. The astringency of an inconvenient question. You've already swallowed too much.

Here you start to realize that this person already takes up too much space, but not enough to make you want to change or stop it. "It must be the trauma", I thought. And I wanted to believe that it would change. The days passed and that full shelf saddened me. Why can't I help? She can improve, yes she can. I felt trapped. The keychain she put on the key tickled my knee and I missed the solitude whenever I stared at a traffic light for more than five seconds. I wanted silence, but the world didn't seem to give her peace. "Why so much persecution?", I thought, before feeling angry.

And when I felt it, I hated myself. Because, well, how could I feel angry at someone who the world already mistreats so much? But I couldn't help but repudiate that damned anthropocentrism. I felt the spasms around her mouth whenever she created a new diabolical plan that she fell victim to. I got to the point of saying countless times that she wasn't the target, that the world didn't want to destroy her insignificance, that people were too busy with their own navels to conspire with such fervor against her.

But she insisted on being in control. From everything, including me. So I, who grew up alone. This trapped me more and more. She controlled the little things and seemed to make the world move. Everything moved, except the damn towel, which now seemed to be expanding all over the closet, soaked in her unbearable expensive perfume. I took it outside to drip, hung it on the light pole and turned it off across the court. Finally there was silence.

I didn't mind storing my things with less space because of her.But it took up too many shelves.She took up a lot of space in my life and little by little, she had little left of me.

I learned to fold clothes to save space, I learned to store my perfumes so they didn't evaporate, but as soon as I could, I bought a new towel, just mine. It didn't take up a third of the space on her towel, and I was genuinely happy to be able to fit it on another shelf and leave that space pretty empty.