Photo by Yohiker
It was hot and yet a cold unsettling was running all over my body, from the tip of my feet to my hair. It was one more day, I did the usual, breakfast, bath, read mail, everything was mechanized, but I must admit that it was these details that kept me sane. The streets were heavier each day, it was really difficult to face the lack of civility that was outside. Nothing like before, was palpable and the stench of misery accompanied the journey.
I did not want to make a fuss, I took two pills to calm my nerves before leaving, I sent a few messages over the phone and left a note on the table to my mother. This would be a long day and possibly take longer than usual.
The anxiety attacks in recent months became recurrent, tried to cope as best he could, and yoga did not have the same effect. I found some comfort in the "Spinner", an anti-stress toy that a friend gave me a few weeks ago. Watching him spin around in my fingers drug me, like a fool.
The toy was with me everywhere since then. He was my psychologist. Who would have thought that this insignificant toy would help me maintain my sanity? Although sometimes this psychologist was left without answers. This day, especially, I felt more than ever that I would need him.
Get off the bus more damaged than ever, the passage more expensive than the previous week, and as usual, the driver did not stop at my stop. Sometimes I forgot that I was in the "Fuck you" city.
At last I reached the subway or train, however, I stayed in the third station. I arrived, I got off the car and went to the nearest bakery. I crossed the endless line of people waiting to buy a loaf of bread, between looks of frustration and hatred. Pass the drama of the bank point and buy a ham cache, my favorite. I needed to eat one this day. Already the price would not be a problem. While chewing, I was looking at my colorful Spinner.
At times I remembered when I was a child and played with my cousins, with countless toys and our imagination was the protagonist. Time did not matter to us, everything was easier at that time, no politics, no economics, no existential doubts, no Aristotle, no Plato, no Hegel, no Marx, no Smith.
Nothing about Fidel, Kennedy, Mugabe or the "Rocket Man". No Islamic terrorism or gender ideology, currents of thought, republic, liberalism or Marxism. We were just children who played, without worries or arguments. Studying politics has made me a little paranoid and bitter. Now I had to return to reality, to this adulthood, where time matters, my executioner, my inquisitor. It was already late and I had to go back to my business. I had to go back to the train, I need to arrive to work.
I went down the stairs as slowly as I could. I arrived at the turnstiles, as usual, the last few months nobody respected the devices to enter. I do not know if because of stupidity or custom, or by a kind of principles that nobody valued in this former city, I paid my ticket and respected the turnstiles.
This public transport, to put a label, was no longer such. Now it was just a deposit of human misery, of indignity and of the worst instincts. This train was hell on earth, the perfect scenery, although it sounds cliché, for a circle of Dante's hell.
The worst thing is that nobody seemed to care, they simply went through inertia, the tribe imposed itself on civilization. Go back down the stairs to the platform to wait for my train. Pass the disgusting announcements of the red propaganda that tormented everyone on every corner every day.
Each day more trampled, the reds were owners of everything, and the burden was unsustainable, freedom did not exist. Fear and laziness accompanied everyone while they told us "Be happy, be the new man". Pure garbage.
I have tried to extend the inevitable, perhaps without realizing or perhaps very aware of what I was doing. Well, I could not wait, I was already on the platform waiting for the train. "Please do not cross the yellow strip." The anxiety was becoming more unbearable, I got close to the strip to wait for the wagon.
The time was endless, it seemed that everything had slowed down. I started to have confused memories of my life. I remembered my dead uncles, my father abroad, my diminished grandparents, my frustrated cousins and my mother, whom I only managed to leave her some lunch in the oven, I hope she find it.
The Spinner was getting faster, the smell more and more unbearable, the heat of the environment imperceptible to me, my bones froze inside me, while everyone around me sweated. The rails looked closer and closer, the train did not arrive and my executioner got slower and slower.
My express psychologist turned at full speed, could not stand it anymore, could not give me more answers, broke into several pieces in my hands. The train appeared in the distance at full speed. There was nothing left. The smell was unbearable, my eyes could not anymore. I was determined, I had to finish this matter once and for all. Maybe I could go back to that state of my childhood, where everything was simpler.
My executioner granted me a few minutes, this happened extremely slow in my head. For a few seconds I was able to relive that feeling of happiness that I missed so much. I hope you forgive me. This is the end...
