My much-needed 3 week holiday came to an end, and I enjoyed the last rays of sun on my skin. My bare naked back, pressed against the living room window; and my eyes, staring blankly into the tv screen. “Back to reality. Fuck.”
I head to the train station to put money on my commuter card. As I waited for the traffic light to change, a fun -and, somewhat, terrible- thought came to my mind. “I have so little control over my life. I hardly take any responsibility over it. I’m an irresponsible fuck!” Amusing. Existentially sad, of course, but fucking amusing.
I have a lot to thank to my ex. L was an extraordinary woman (which might sound very inconsistent considering my deep resentment towards her. Yet, I’m not lying.) She was awesome, and also the main reason why I live in Europe now. Our life in Chile wasn’t great. She, not finding a job. Me, a broke-ass loser. So the possibility was there and we took it. I let myself go. For me. For her. For a better life together.
When I broke up with L, my life collapsed. “What’s the point of being in fucking Denmark now!?” I thought constantly. Because there were -are, still- many reasons, but she was the main one. She and us as a couple, as a team. As a family, even. But with her out of the equation, I couldn’t take responsibility for myself, for my own life. Until now. Hardly.
In my twenties it was worse, though. I let my first girlfriend “adopt me” as a weird mix of boyfriend, son and lover. That lasted for almost nine years. And, before that, my mum ran my show. I was a little kid with a big hairy pair of balls but no opinion.
This all brings us to the present. Giving some thought to it, I -shamefully- acknowledge that Marie had made Copenhagen much nicer to me. To the point that the minute I stepped on the plane to Madrid, on my way to Chile, I wanted to come back. And Laura made it good and cosy back in Santiago, enough for me to consider it not being that bad after all. Which is bullshit: Santiago fucking sucks.
There are glances of hope in my future. I feel changed after my trip. The biggest highlight of this change is that now, finally, I feel that living in Copenhagen is my choice. And it’s a hard decision. This city is unfriendly and cold in all sort of ways. Anxiety kicks in, and angst knocks at my door every now and then. But fuck’em. It’s about time for me to take responsibility over my life, and if that’s the price to pay, so be it. I was raised as a Catholic, anyway. I can always blame God if it all goes to shit.