Who am I?
They say that I should give a short review of Who am I? the stupid and big question of always, because the damn question persistently exists. I already feel fatigued and I have not even begun to write my name.
Who the hell am I? Describing me emotionally is more complicated than it seems, I will not talk about my physique because I have nothing to thank me.
Questions they always ask at any time of your life, schools, high schools, university, jobs, jobs, and appointments. They always want to hear from your voice:
Who you are?
What do you do?
What is your job?
What do you want?
What are you waiting for?
And I always have an answer to all this ... go to hell!
What a pity that just think it over do not say it ... Today we know that we are all robotic people in a robotic world, with dilemmas, beliefs, cultures, and robotic tastes, we can say that that was what our parents instilled in us, family, friends, love and society, Although we do not want to, we always go to the same address without breaking the mold.
I just saw a picture of a classmate who died, the girlfriend tattooed his name on his arm, friends put him on their social networks, others drink alcoholic beverages in their name and listen to their music, watch their movies and they walk where he walked to remember him, they talk about writing a novel (Laughter), ridiculous about the people who do all these things.
Fuck all that, I do not want to know what ridicule can do my family, friends, love and colleagues the day I'm no longer here.
Who will get my name tattooed?
Who will watch my favorite movies?
Who the fuck will listen to my favorite songs?
Who will walk where I walked?
Who got drunk to remind me?
Who will put my photo on their social networks? With a message of always you will live in our Hearts ...
I hope that before my death, someone arrives and tells me that they have money to make us a tattoo of what we want.
They invite me to watch a movie to spend some time together ...
Sing the thousands of songs that exist in this world, until the throat bleeds.
They take pictures with me and put them on their social networks.
They invite me to drink until they get drunk and thus erase us from the face of the earth, where we can laugh and cry, because we are going to last a while without seeing each other, and not to cry for not seeing me anymore.
I want you to write a novel about me and I can read it before you die ...
Today, if I miss, I hope that no one cries or drink alcoholic beverages, I hope that no one listens to my music or tattooed my name, or that they see my films, much less walk where I walked ... nobody.
I hope they just stay silent and remind me what it was like. Although I'm not sure if that could happen, so while that day arrives, I want to show the only thing I have and nobody can take it from me, my creativity, my dreams of getting far and my great imaginations to do this, what I'm doing today in day.
Fidel A. Serrano M. (X-Ander) 24 Years ... Tomorrow maybe when I get up, I already have something to write
