Pensamientos que naufragan en el mar de los Incomunicados

The Used

I was born in a rural hillside area in Puerto Rico. In it you could see a vast forest, mountains and most importantly hard working people.

I come from a relatively socially accepted family: 1 Dad, 1 Mom, 2 Brothers and 1 Sister. My parents have a dry sense of humor, only want to do things by the book and care little to nothing about service if it has no benefit.

They function with disfunction but cannot function without a purpose. That being said, they chose to build their children instead of letting them grow, like a sideways tree that had his freedom to branch taken away and now it is binded to a big 2x4 so it could grow straight.

I knew it wasn't right, all of us knew yet we were told it was for our own good. We learned so many skills from them don't get me wrong, but served no purpose, no definition, no freedom.

I have now an endless array of tools in my drawer but it is not mine it is for them. Who is them? I have no idea, could be the next girlfriend, bestfriend, person in need of assistance, job offer.

You see I came with a side effect, I am only an ability without an owner, a tool inside a toolbox, another mop used to fix things and put back on the closet.

Yes, I am useful, helpful, cooperative, smart, intelligent, cunning, knowledgeable, curious, fast learner, adjustable... "always there for you when you need me". So many adjectives to judge but non of them describe me.

I became useful but it hurts, to be there and have nothing, to be abandoned by those you cherished, to feel alone knowing so many people. I cannot stress how much I always wished to have someone like me in my own life...

... because I would know exactly how much they are suffering on the inside...