Diary of a dying man

Footprints in the sand

I continued today in my review of my box, it seems lighter and lighter, although its contents have not diminished significantly. I found a scrap... yes, a simple scrap of a photograph, it was dated 13 years ago, it showed me in the company of other people who were once part of my life. To be frank, of all those people, only one caught my attention... someone I did consider a friend, but when it was my turn to return home, she simply ignored me and became a stranger. But I'll put the story in context:

A year after my father's death the house in which I lived all my life in San Borja, had begun to crumble (not literally) but there were failures that we could not cover financially, changes in plumbing, electrical wiring, a leak or two and our spirits were at rock bottom, We decided to accept a deal and build a building on the land, demolishing the house that my grandparents had built and obtaining an apartment plus a not inconsiderable amount of money. .. Well, the thing is that we accepted and the company with which we made the deal, took care of renting us some rooms in Pueblo Libre (district where I currently reside) but due to the distance of our jobs (at that time I worked in San Borja and then I worked in San Juan de Miraflores) it was not convenient, so we moved to a house in a AAHH in Pamplona Alta, in the "Villa San Luis" sector.

For someone like me who went from a "comfortable" middle class life, moving to live on a hill (literally) was shocking, but I adapted quickly, especially because to get to work in San Borja, I took the bus 3 blocks from my new house, while when I had to return to SJM to teach a class, I could walk there without any problems. There I saw a parish at the top of the hill and I told myself that trying to set up my workshop in collaboration with the parish, even if it was a workshop with no benefits for me (I had just graduated) was the right idea.

As you know, I am not a religious man by any means, so it was incongruous for me, being an agnostic, to be part of a Catholic community. However, I was received... "well" and I say "well" in quotation marks because I noticed immediately that my presence caused discomfort among the choir leader, a certain Junior and the head of another church group whose name I do not remember, both of them always showed their hostility towards me in a palpable way. I had some students there, who, to be honest, were not shining jewels, but they worked very hard. I know it sounds horrible for me to say that about former students, but in that place I was all alone and an ally didn't hurt. Of all my former students at this place, I recognize Jose Luis who played an excellent Judas and Milagros who was my Maria Magdalena. To this day I still keep in touch with both of them (more with Milagros than with Jose Luis) but I also noticed a lot of jealousy and envy coming from other members of the cast when I distributed my characters. Unfortunately egos are never lacking, but I will never regret my choices of characters, if I can boast about anything in my career is that I always chose the perfect people for each character.

Well... back to the subject, thanks to them I met Patricia, she was always very kind to me and we talked with pleasure about almost every possible subject. She told me that she wanted to be a teacher and with all the excitement of the case, she told me that she was in love. I was sincerely happy for her and when she came home from work, I would drop by her house from time to time to see how she was doing since she had started her internship and I thought it was a good idea to cheer her up. Everything was great and we trusted each other... for a while at least.... After 2 years living in Pamplona Alta it was normal for me to go walking around the different scenarios and spaces that this place provided, however the day when the building that was being constructed in what was my house in San Borja would be finished was approaching. So I let him know and we even promised to continue seeing each other and keep in touch because we wanted to remain friends.

But the opposite happened, when I moved back to San Borja, now to an apartment... I discovered many things. Among them that Patricia was behind rumors that Junior (the guy from the chorus) made public about me, such as me getting drunk with the cast members, among many other things. This caught my attention because the only time I have drunk beer with adult members of my cast, was precisely in Pamplona, when one of them made a pro-health pollada for his mother, so I went to collaborate. On that night, we were 5 adults of the cast (over 18) among whom we bought half a case of beer (6 beers) and we had them in front of us, I do not drink alcohol, so I drank very little, because I was more interested in the food. But that single image with the beer bottles in front of us was enough to start rumors about me in this supposedly familiar Catholic religious community.

When I found out about this, I asked Patricia for explanations and as is logical, I did not get any answer... what's more... she completely eliminated me from any possibility of contact (msn, facebook, etc) and even blocked my cell phone number so that my calls would not go to her number. It must be said that I understood the message and felt deeply offended, as I had done absolutely nothing to deserve this treatment and decided not to return to Pamplona. I was able to keep my word for about 7 years or so, until at my mother's request I went back up to Pamplona, for the Palm Sunday celebration (my mother is Catholic) so I reluctantly attended.

Personally, I do not attend any religious cult, regardless of my ideas, but because I consider that it would be a lack of respect on my part towards any religion, if I attend a cult and I am dedicated to anything else, read a book, a newspaper or look at my cell phone.... However there I met Patricia, already a mother of a family, I guess with her husband (I never met him to be honest) and I realized that there was no longer any kind of link between us. We didn't even greet each other with a brief nod of the head... we were two people who at some point in the trip crossed paths and then simply stopped caring about each other... we were just two people who at some point in the trip crossed paths and then simply stopped caring about each other.

And so, little by little, friends, those who were never really friends, began to move away from each other... Little by little, those who once said they were there for each other in good times and bad, stopped passing by to greet each other... Little by little, those who in the moments of darkness offered each other a little light, moved away... Little by little, those who helped each other to calm their tormented hearts grew further and further apart. Little by little, those friends who exchanged the concept of friendship for the unpleasant habit of hypocrisy and self-interest, moved away from us.

So I kept thinking about just that... about friendships or friendships in appearance, which are supposed to be forever, but are nothing more than coincidences that last as long as the blink of an eye, and then become two strangers, each going their own way. I have taken the piece of the photograph and I have torn it, ready to throw it away, because frankly... it no longer represents anything to me.