I would love to go back in time to that young boy who first read Cortázar, knowing what he knows today about the Maga and the dystopias that explode into stardust, those lines were for him what they can no longer be for me... I remember what I felt in those days, smoking in secret from my parents, connecting the dots in the fantasy of Paris in "La Rayuela," and I felt a powerful thrill. Since those distant days, I found myself dreaming of a horizon I couldn't see with my eyes, already dreaming of more than my reason knew.
For some strange reason, returning to that 17-year-old boy, in love with that girl I still painfully remember, fills me with a strange sense of uncertainty that puts me face to face with myself, and a chaotic force saddens me until I can't distinguish between fantasy and reality. An insufferable abyss forms between what that boy dreamed of life and what this adult ended up living. Perhaps somewhere in this universe, that girl with the mousy hair is contemplating my number in some physics or organic chemistry notebook, also remembering the path we chose not to walk, but at that moment felt like "the path," and she angrily reproaches me in her unconscious, wondering why the hell I covered our rescue attempts with apathy at the first sign of trouble. And it's not just her, there have been several souls I've touched to the point of saying, "I love you," but I never knew how to maintain those loves, because a black cover that said, "The gods are dead, in long lines of paper and cardboard," told me, "Kid, sadness belongs to poets."
Then I get nostalgic and start narrating arguments that justify my book of "mysteries of existence", and it fills me with joy to know that there will never be a lack of love, the ones that will make you reach for the sky again, and those you'd let slip away like sand through your fingers... I can't remember where I read it, I think it was Camus, something that seemed to say, "Invariably, all the people who loved me ended up hating me for the same reasons that made them love me."
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