It has almost been a year ever since I packed up all my stuff, left the city not just for the summer and established back home.

And it is killing me.

I had to get back here because I needed to get better and there was no way I could do it on my own. I had tried and tried for the past years but I didn’t manage to get well. So it was a familiar decision that I went back to my parent’s up until I got all up and running.

Leaving the city the way I had to, was a big defeat to me even though when I lived there sometimes I despised it because many bad things had happened to me in there.

But not in a hundred million years I would’ve imagined what was to come.

See, I am pretty realistic, so I figured that once I’d left, my friends there would keep on going with their lives, I would miss them deeply and they’d remember that I existed sometimes. But I didn’t quite expect the outcome.

I left the city alright. And I haven’t been able yet to go back there and visit them because of health issues. A couple of months ago I hit a really low point where I couldn’t walk from my bedroom to the kitchen without feeling I was going to faint. So obviously I still am nowhere near ready to get my car and drive to Barcelona or get on a train on my own.

I was expecting less communication. It is not the same to see someone on a daily basis than just over the phone or whatever. What I didn’t expect at all was the lack of communication that I am having.

This past 11 months I have been through and ordeal and while doctors promised me that I’d be up and running by now, I am certainly not ready for it.

So by Christmas time I decided instead of sending a FB message or other impersonal messages, I’d go old-school and send handwritten postcards to all my friends back in the city. Since I didn’t feel like calling them just to bore them with my bad news I figured they’d like that better.

Breaking the silence with a good wish looked like something I’d appreciate if they did to me. I got nothing in return. I didn’t get not one lousy postcard; nothing. Some, when they saw the postcard after Xmas break sent me a Whatsapp. See, I didn’t get a Merry Xmas on time. But what hurt me the most, is that from whom I was expecting the most to hear from, they didn’t even say to me Happy Holidays and they say they never got the postcard.

Whether all postcards arrived at the destination except for two, I cannot prove a thing. I know I sent them all, so it makes not much sense some got lost. But they could’ve gotten lost. Point is, regardless, I didn’t even get a lousy Whatsapp.

Months have gone by and I haven’t heard a word. And this hurts me so. I am positive that I haven’t done anything wrong to be cut off so abruptly.

Before I left the city, I told them to come over and visit me whenever they wanted and I really meant it. But no one came so far.

It almost looks like I never existed to them, and this makes me really sad, because I honestly care about them. Now I don’t know what to think any longer. I would call, but I don’t want to feel stupid calling on people who maybe they don’t want to hear from me anymore.

Moving on, having landed at my hometown, things are even worse. There are not many people left (my age) here. Most people who haven’t moved to the city or abroad have gotten married and live a complete different lifestyle, changing diapers and not being able or not wanting to hang out. Now, I do not blame this people; because we weren’t that close to begin with.

But then there is this girl who used to be my friend: We were from the same group of friends and we left to University at the same time. Since we studied at different places we didn’t see each other that much. I was living at the Campus and she was living with some other people from my town outside the campus.

She got close with her roommates and completely got away from our group of friends. She recently came back to live at my hometown for good. So when I saw her around I told her we should hang out. We could go have a coffee or something. Her reaction was most unexpected: ‘I don’t think so.’ She said.

‘I don’t think so?’ What did I ever do to her? It was her who stopped talking to me and the other girl and to this day we still don’t know why.

This other girl, my best friend from childhood, got married, had a baby and lives 200 km away so chances of meeting her for a coffee are slim.

Moving back to my hometown: I still don’t understand that childish reaction of this girl. We had always been friends until she decided not to answer calls from us and start meeting other people. ‘Cooler people’- I guess.

So that leaves me with nobody to hang out with in 3D life.

And at the beginning it was something quite bearable, but now it is becoming arduous. How much isolation can an extroverted human being take?

I’ve heard of people living in complete isolation. But that is not me. It reaches to a boiling point. And I am at the boiling point.

I want to have a reason to make myself look pretty, I want to have someone to talk to and share life with. I want to have laughs, share thoughts, go out to have dinner… The usual stuff.

Is that too much to ask? I don’t think so.

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Regional Geographic presents...

So yesterday I decided I was going to make a bit of tourism. Recently I have heard of this beautiful sanctuary called La Balma that is about 2 hours drive from where I live.

That amount of kilometers (4 hours in total because one’s got to get back home) looked reasonable for a Monday after lunch trip.

So we jumped into the car, we pumped some gas because we knew we were going to get in no man’s land got some water and hit the road.

We passed some towns in the way but as we were driving, the roads became narrower; the speed limit lower and there was not one single soul around. We passed through several abandoned small villages, a river that I didn’t even know about and that it carried no water.

GPS verified that we were not lost even it might look like it. So we kept on driving just to finally see a worn out by the sun sign that indicated the monastery was 3 km away. We got there. Somehow it reminded me of Rivendell except for the lack of super tall trees. We parked the car, and walked towards the monastery.

There was nobody around. But since we were in the middle of nowhere it didn’t quite bother us. A few minutes later… a closed fence.  I looked up and there was a surveillance camera on top. So I tried to say hello, to see if they’d be kind enough to show us the place since we had taken the longest ride.

Nobody answered and I didn’t dare to climb the fence or anything because I didn’t want to get into trouble for trespassing property, even though it was not private property.  There was this sign that had been torn apart except the French part and it clearly said: Mondays closed. The rest of days open from 15’00 to 17’00. Wow!

I have been to Montserrat monastery before, which is much bigger and it basically is open every day. So what’s up with this one?

I got so frustrated I started to laugh my ass off. To see the faces of people… Having taken that trip to the middle of nowhere, just to arrive to a beautiful emplacement and find a fence that forbids you to get in there.

So we head back to the car and back to civilization. On our way back, I saw a wild Spanish ibex. These animals are pretty hard to spot, so at least it wasn’t a complete waste of a trip. Since we were the only ones around and didn’t bother quite much the animal, I managed to take a photo that considering it was taken with a pretty bad camera it came off really good.


Not a National Geographic wide angle Carl Zeiss photo, but a photo indeed.

On our way back home we stopped at Morella (a small medieval village) but this I’ll tell you in the next post. Otherwise it’d be way too long. 

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