A stranger at home.

He couldn't stand me at all: I couldn't stand my parents so stagnant in their world of more than fifty years ago, he couldn't stand reproaches and advice, that if I didn't have a job it was because I didn't feel like it, that I went out every day at eight in the morning to speak face to face with hotel managers, with restaurant owners, in a shoe factory, and tell them that I was going to eat the dishes and that it would be more effective than half a dozen of the employees, that they put me to the test for a week and if I did not convince them they would not pay me anything, because surely I would find something and I would cease to be the burden that I am for their miserable retiree pay and a shitty song.

One day after another and if I smoke, if sometimes I arrive smelling of alcohol, look, they told me to try a little more in my studies and that is why now I am nobody, nor am I anything.

I could not bear my sister so formal she and such an engineer, so happily married and harmonious, stable, with her own apartment and a brilliant husband. I could not bear that she was so perfect and such a prostitute, married for anything, less for true love, because you can tell they are plastic, one of those couples that poison the environment more than carbon dioxide from cars with their hypocrisy and falsity of their appearance.

He could not bear the city with its zombies at full speed on the sidewalks, in the subway station, running no one knows where, nor to put out what fires, scrambled in their cyberworlds and oblivious to the orange tree in the park that has grown new leaves, In the light and shadows of the buildings, the beggar still has, at least his crocodile tears.

He could not stand the politicians, nor the television, nor the immense advertisements to drink Coca-Cola or do not miss the spring offers of the English court, or escape to Can-Cun for the price of two rotten onions, which we can finance the payment, so you pay in your next life.

I couldn't stand Alicia, my girlfriend, with her tongue piercing and now thinking of putting another one on her clitoris, desperately looking for a different satisfaction, a quick and easy formula to find an escape route to her light life, that existence of best surfing on the table of his parents by the work and grace of a collective law firm that they have in Barcelona and the fucking money as if it were a visa to enter the country of joints and operations to remove some brains.

And to her, they seem to have transplanted an artichoke or a worn slipper, or a miraculous walnut shell that only serves to chew gum and look for synthetic sex, the kind that they have surely manufactured in a laboratory, without a drop of affection or hugs, or any other invention of the Gods who do not understand anything, because to see what need we have, according to her, to complicate our existence with loves and things of those that make us suffer.

Total if we can have a good time copulating and then to a bottle or the house on the beach or a weekend getaway to see Michelangelo's David in Florence, not for anything else, but to put like a pepper to the acquaintances of the class, where miraculously, he repeats his second year of law degree, just like his parents, how could it be otherwise, to be able to continue with the genetic blessing of the family to paste a signature on a sacred document and charge a fool.

I could not stand even one of my acquaintances, because I have no friends, employees like lambs and modern slaves, putting up the neck so that the entrepreneur vampires would suck the time of their miserable lives washing dishes, or the girls cleaning the floor, praying everything the day for Holy Saturday to arrive and relax in front of the omnipotent thief of the new millennium, the only one who is capable of being at the same time in all homes at the same time at all hours, putting in the occiput of the people the miseries of the purgatory and the peace of the dead.

Teledios that you are in the sanctified room, give us the movie of each day with hydrates of violence to remain asleep and not perceive how the owners of the world explode at will.

Nor could I stand acquaintances either, because neither do I have studious friends, so diligent as if they were going to discover, at the end of their deceptive careers, a miraculous way of parking cars without making so many laps, or the vaccine against human stupidity, a zen touch It is miraculous that it leaves fat people skinny in a week, that it causes diabetes and cholesterol in people's lives, a patch that we can put on our back and make us happy and smile.

I could not stand my acquaintances Nini, who are not friends of anyone and those who abound the most, those masters of complaint and graduates in excuses for doing nothing, those who sail on this ship of crisis that makes waters, those who drag by hair the hopes of anyone with their negativity implanted in an operating room on any street.

And finally he could not bear the worst of all, the one who does not stain or color, who does not get wet, does not even have the courage to hoist the flag of some pack in his boat, who feels like a lone wolf, hating everything that shakes, crazy because someone says something to go out to put up a fight, with more weapons on board than if it were an aircraft carrier, waiting for the right moment to commit suicide, with the certainty that I do not want to continue supporting this clown role, this representation of sperm that becomes old wrinkled.

Then one morning I wake up crying, with a horrible headache and a rage mixed with sadness that spread around me and I realize that maybe the time has come to put an end to everything, that I cannot continue living with myself, and I am trapped in that and I repeat that I can not continue living with me and surely my stupid face remains for a moment, wondering who I really am, me or myself.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath and again observe the behavior of the self from myself and I see it helpless and desperate, caught in its storm of raindrops, with its absurd contradictions and its battles.

And then, little by little the objects in the room become clearer and clearer and there is a pleasant silence that navigates the curtains of the room while outside it seems that the city is waking up.