My late mother was the first of a long list of people who tried to put me in doubt with myself. Unlike the rest, she had all my confidence, so she succeeded to a certain extent, at least during the twenty seven years it took me, for better or worse, to consolidate my personality.
Throughout my childhood, instead of letting me spend my free time in activities related to my introspective temperament, reading or losing myself in my thoughts, she pushed me to be sociable, kind, among other practices that were not natural to me. She urged me to pay attention to others, not only to observe their gestures but to understand them. As a coup de grace he instilled in me a deep friendship cult. My blood and honest nature did their part; I could have saved time, succeeded in anything that had put my effort, even could have been a “useful piece” for this society, if it had not been because my mother forced me not to be myself, to extrapolate, making me lose all possible innocence. I could have felt fulfilled, I could have been happy… Instead, I got the selfsame One Way Ticket To Nowhere, I got my consciousness.