Seasons I: Winter.

II: I'm not quiet or on the beach.

II: I'M NOT QUIET OR ON THE BEACH.

I wake up breathing hard and too fast. I turn off the television with the remote and look at the clock on the wall. Eight and shit. I have taken a great nap, although I have slept fatal. Good.

I've actually been sleeping badly since December began. Every night I have the same dream, and normally, when I sleep naps also, as I have now. It is awful. They provoke in me a sense of anguish which I find quite difficult to substitute for a false tranquility. My dream / nightmare is that I'm dying. And according to the Internet, dreaming every day with the same thing is a sign that it will really happen. I have not told anyone, it comes down to James - because I do not have anyone else in my life. He's so happy because nothing is going to be my birthday, so if I say that, he's going to be more nervous than I am. Once, two years ago, a few days after meeting him, they almost ran over me and spent several days behind me protecting me from anything, even a miserable knife. He even slept in my house! My parents were hallucinating.

I get up from the couch and stretch. For a moment my eyes cloud and I stagger, although it happens to me every now and then so I do not care. When I see again and be stable, I go to the kitchen and take what is necessary to make dinner; Chorizo ​​in envelope and bread. Not that I'm not hungry, but I'm not dying for lack of food either - I'd rather be ignored that the problem really is that I'm lazy to prepare something in conditions. A sandwich is fine.

In two minutes I'm sitting on top of the counter. I swing my feet as I sift it quickly. Eight-thirty has left me misplaced. I wanted to go buy something at the supermarket, but I have no choice but to go tomorrow and get up early. With what little sleep I hate to get up early. Besides, I wanted to go to the beach! Yes. I love going in winter. The simple fact of being in contact with the water makes me feel free. It is the only moment of the day when I am happy. I am free as the waves of the sea clash freely on a cliff to reach its end. Only my final - if my dream of death is not fulfilled - I hope it is late. Anyway, that's just me. Isabelle Valdez, a girl with Portuguese origins who lives in Galicia.

"Fuck you," I say out loud. "It's never too late to do something."

I finished the sandwich and jumped down from the counter. I run to my room. It has only one double bed and a closet. It was under construction before my parents died and, since I do not have enough money to continue remodeling, it stayed that way. In my opinion, it's even original. A half-painted room with two miserable furnishings perfectly describes my inner self; A chaos.

I go to the closet and when I open the doors I see that it is a mess. Another day I promise falsely that I will be forced to order it once and for all. I take a white bikini, put it on quickly and find a towel to go. Normally I do not usually go at night but I have to take advantage of the good weather. People are very exaggerated. They say that the water is frozen in winter and that's why they do not go, but I always feel it trembling. At its point. I must be weird. Nor would it be new. I am looking for a beach dress even if I hate them, I wear it and I leave my house.

Five minutes later my towel is lying on the sand and I have taken off that hideous little dress. I hide the cell under the towel just in case. Even if you do not see anyone, you always have to be careful. A friend of James once stole money from his pocket at the dentist and was alone when he was taken care of. He filled out a claim sheet but for fifty euros they did not dwell on the subject. What if. It's not the same situation, but at least he got his coat pocket-I do not know who's going to put money in there instead of in the pockets of his pants-and he could get the idea of ​​who the thief was. I would not stand a chance.

I stare at the sea for a while, losing a little in my thoughts, but in the end I come to the conclusion that the tide is low and nothing is going to happen to me. I walk until the water reaches my ankles. I squat down and put a hand scratching the sand. I close my eyes, enjoying this sensation. I think unconsciously that the temperature will drop a little in half an hour. These are thoughts that, although at first I thought they were simply madness mine, they were real. Although I notice the warm water, I have my limits and when I notice the cold is very, but that very bad for me. I start to freeze everything and I sink without being able to climb to the surface. I know from experience and it was horrible. If it were not because my father was there to get me out even though he came out with purple lips while shivering and I slept in his arms, I would be dead. Maybe it would have been better that way. The poor man was bad for two or three weeks and I recovered easily.