i decided to write

   I decided to write. One page only. Maybe two. A whole book, why not? Maybe I even get the taste of it and obtain so much pleasure and dopamine through writing that itself acts like a drug on my living corpse, the little bug starting up from the point of my feet, crawling my whole body, arriving to the point oh my hair and turning back again, touching the nose and making a weird feeling in it, passing across my torso through the hairy nipple zone, until it reaches the arms then the hands, transporting this exquisite sensation from the tip of my fingers to the tip of my pen and finally to the paper, being absorved with the fingers of my left hand that hold the notebook so that the right hand wrights right, returning to the body again and repeating the cycle, as something that tries to feed an insatiable addiction. But it’s not the case. Still. Sometimes I had the urge to write, but an introspective voice kept telling me:

”But will you write a book about what? A young man like yourself, that only has ill-founded ideas in his mind, that change it’s content constantly each time you put your clumsy feet bluntly on the ground to get out of the fucking bed! One person, to write a book, has to be an erudite in the subject which the book is about. He has to have an empiric and profound knowledge about what he’s writing! And still ,these ones don’t start by writing works of art, they start with drafts drawn on napkins, or in guided paper school sheets, but even they instead of writing music they write crap, that is clichély given to the dog to eat it, and then they tell the teacher the next day that it was the dog that ate his essay he did about polymers and ceramic materials. Of course the teacher wont believe him, for he had already used this pretext 14 times( 13 times of which had been a lie, this time being the thruthfull one).”And you got a 10 at Literature !How do you want to write if neither you know it?!”-

Easy there ,big fella.I had 10 out of 20 at Literature but it was in an essay only, and I noticed today my teacha hadn’t quoted the group II, because I had it done on the sheet the teacha gave me instead of the essay sheet.Shit. Yet neither was I who noticed it.It was a nice female classmate.I never notice nothing.I am the most distracted person there could be.And I suffer A lot with it.As you can see.I got to the Mr.Teacher in the end of this “enlightened” class and explained what happened.That I didn’t want to outsmart him or anything. That I simply didn’t noticed.”Well”-says the teacher with a look that he can do nothing about it.”Let’s see-If you had told me this Monday when I delivered the test to you, maybe I would have given you the quotation. If you had arrived in time to the test, maybe I would have given you the quotation.But it’s complicated”. It’s always complicated.

I got a mensage:”Read in 20 minutes…Happy birthday dude,stay well”-with rodrigro boavida written on top of the sms.I look at the clock.23:42 .I will piss and take the notebook with me…Afterall the act of defecation comes along too. Doesn’t matter. It’s a weird feeling when they send birthday mensages before the day of anniversary.Some people would think it was prelude of bad luck.I simply find it a litle weird after mastigating this thought.I flush the toilet and go back to bed.Today I received comments of this type:”Only a few hours left!”or “How does it feel to be the last day before adulthood?” were it not for these people, I would loose track of time ,divagating in a downwards spiral of infinite timeless space and not even think about it.I watch the clock.23:50.Funny.Of all the possible and imaginable things I could be doing in my last moments of minor age,including sleeping, I have passed them doing a thing I rarely do by my own will.It’s not that I don’t like writing, it’s just that I can’t grab my thought onto the paper, these are too many and too frivolous to be taken seriously.23:54.

My last minutes of being considered a child by society are ending! If I want to kill somebody or something along those lines ,now it’s the right time!Let me think.

No, I don’t think there’s no one worthy enough for me to get out of my bed and go running really fast to slaughter him. It would be uncomfortable to both of us.Always thought that of an individual beig considered as an adult by the age of 18 a little stupid.23:57,I’m not still a grown up yet. In less than 3 minutes I am an Adult.Ridiculous. We all know that intelligence and intellectual autonomy of each person are not the same at 18 years old.Why establish such a specific date? It would be more preciseif the designation of an adult would be given by his/her I.Q. , or some similar test.But that would arise so many Etical, moral and sociologic questions. What is a “real” adult anyway? Someone seen by society as an independent at mental level,that can now perform a series of fisical and psicological works?Doesn’t matter. I mesmerize the glowing number in the alarm clock.YAY!I’m 18.Funyy.When I Started writing this page I was only 17.The bottom thruth is that they are only numbers.nothing. Only men put value on those things.Only men put value on everything, they put labels on everything, with price, prejudice and barcode. In essence, nothing has value, nothing has a meaning, and nothing having no meaning has no meaning at all too. Everything is meaningless. Are you Shakespear?Do you have 18 years?Do you know that 2+2=4?You end the world hunger? None of that matters,later or sooner all will end. Everything is ephemeral.maybe not in a year,maybe not in a decade, or century, milenium, but eventually everything will cease to end.What is the human race, those nanoscopic parasites of a tiny blue marble compared to the wilderness of the galaxy.It’s like a point, with 0 dimensions,only referenced in space.Even less.

I can write tuomato as I can write tomato as I can writte nothing.For I can burn the whole damn book and eat it’s ashes accompanied with nuttela. Nothing matters in the end.And with that plan of though I teleport myself to another-If nothing matters, I can do anything, really anything(but not everything).Of course I have limitations at fisic, cognitive level to mention a few,But I can do really anything between those limits, This would not happen if I added to this limits others which I had If I put Meaning to everything and care about everything, social constrainment being the most Freemind killer of all.I can do things from the point of view of a society as macabre, or insolent, or weird, like walking upside down, slaughter everyone, dress myself as a woman and throw nuggets at everyone on sight,etc. But I won’t do It. Better, I never did it. Not to that extreme. I think it’s because I’m too fucking lazy. Originally lazy. ”Congrats, you Camel!Was I the 1st?.Ok .I got the purpose of the mensages.Competition.Or some money bet.If it was Miguel has lost.i called thanking anyway. Good comrades.Friday is the day, in by birthday dinner I've arranged with all the people!Where was I?Ha, yes, talking about my introspective thought persuading me not to writte - ”Only the most intelligent+est persons can writte decent books!” Says the voice inside my head.I never considered myself the smartest person in the world, not even the dumbest. I think that in this group are included a lot of them.In the end is all the persons but 2, one that couldn't read this or evenventually hold this book probabily, and the other would find a nostalgic feeling in this writing and this subjects , because he thought like this when he was 4, after being taken a course in medicine and quantium fisics at the same time only using half of his brain when he was 3 and a half years.