Todos deberíamos romper

“I wrote a note to Juan. I asked him to leave me alone for a while and assured him I would be fine and that I would be the one to contact him again. Writing that note brought me the first clear pang of, let’s say, madness. Who was writing that note to Juan? It couldn’t be me, or it couldn’t be for real. That note was incompatible with both of us, that is, with my life. Reality was failing me. Next to the note, my hand placed my cell phone. There was a certain sense of fate in that movement. I saw it like in a movie: a close-up of a cell phone placed like a gun on the table. There was a dislocation in my actions, since they were carried out before I decided to do them. I felt an urgency to leave. A countdown had begun somewhere. I left with two suitcases. While I waited for a taxi, all around me, above, below, to the sides, there was a sharp nothingness, as if I no longer cast a shadow or had a future.”