Sant Jordi-2014

- Yo u ’ r e a s t u d e n t h e r e i n
Universty, aren’t you?
-Yeah... How did you know?
-You don’t need eyes to see
everything. I just noticed. And I
also know University can be very
tuff sometimes. Thank you very
much for what you did, I hope you
have a great time here. Don’t give
up! Believe me, I’m a
psychologist.
-Oh, thank you -And he winked-
See you!
Did I seemed so lost? Oh my god,
an actually blind psychologist had
just noticed that someting was
wrong about me. C’mon,was it that
obvious? I hoped he had known
because of his job so nobody else
would notice -later I found out I
was so lost even a snail would
have noticed-.
I kept walking. According to my
tiny map, the University was
supposed to be right in front of me,
and there it was. An enourmous,
old bricked castle with double
french doors, dark-green ivy on the
façade, wide Ghotic windows and
large cloisters. Incredible. I had
always loved Irish and English
architecture but that was an
authentic masterpiece. The fresh
smell of the green grass
hypnotized me for a moment, I felt
like being at home playing with
my little brother and my dog,
waiting for my mum and dad to
come from work with the red
licorace they gave us every Friday
if we had behaved appropiately the
whole week. We didn’t need
anything else back then. The sound
of students chatting woke me up.
The fast movement their feet
made, made me remind me I had
been standing there for too much
time. “Great, late on my first day”
I thought while running through
those antique corridors.
What a first day! My teacher was
such a jerk and the majority of the
people in class weren’t even
people. They had been the whole
class writing. On their phones.
C’mon, I know this was Literature
Institut Samuel Gili i Gaya
career and students who choose
this career do it just to have
something in their curriculum but
what about people who were
genuinely interested in that? Were
we supposed to sit there standing
those annoying rings on everyone
elses phone? I would have sent
them somewhere in Spanish but
I’m quite more respectful than
them. Actually, something good
happened. I met someone. Yes, a
boy. He was the only person in the
class who I got on well. His name
was Jake, he was from Dublin –I
had already noticed by his really
noticeable Irish accent when he
t o l d m e - a n d w a s a c t u a l l y
interested in Literature, just like
me. It was weird about someone
from Dublin to go to Galway to
college but he explained to me he
had some problems because his
parents didn’t allow him studying
English Literature. He was
determinated, something whch I
liked about people. And his
favourite colour was purple! I
really didn’t want to
think of him as something more
than that so I just left it behind and
didn’t think about it anymore. I
was the kind of person who didn’t
like to label relationships nor
having impossible expectatives.
And, guess what, he was too.
The year was nearly coming to an
end, we were two weeks away
from new year’s eve. Jake and I
had been getting to know each
other for the last few months. I had
some girl friends in my class who
were very lovely but I spent most
of the time with him. At first
everything was perfect; I smiled
when he smiled and viceversa, he
never pissed me of and he was like
that prince charming I’d been so
afraid to come across. We even
started to go to each other’s flat
nearly every Friday noon to watch
a movie and he didn’t complain
about me wearing oversized
jumpers and messy hair. And he let
me choose the movie! I loved our
“serious-but-not-serious”
conversations when we tried to
label our relationship; we first
tried to call ourselves “boyfriend
and girfriend”, then we laughed as
it sounded so bizarre, then we tried
to start again and say we were in a
relationship but we laughed till our
sides ache. Some people said it
was strange but, for us, not beeing
able to label what we had made it
more unique and special. It was
perfectly perfect.
One day, suddenly, Jake
disappeared. He didn’t come to
class and he didn’t answer my calls
or my texts either. I asked his
friends and they didn’t know
anything. I asked the teacher and
he didn’t know anything. And I
started to dwell upon it. Yes, we
hadn’t been in our best moment
lately, we had had a couple of
fights, but that wasn’t a reason to
ignore me! All boys are the same.
They dress up as a prince, make
you feel like a princess, make you
get attached and then, they leave.
Always the same film but with
different characters. Was I cursed?
Was I supposed to end up alone
with six cats just because I wasn’t
like the models in the covers of the
magazines? It wasn’t fair. Nobody
should feel like that because of
somebody else is stupid and can’t
appreciate them. I was really,
really angry and I cried for days. I
guessed he didn’t love me as much
as I loved him and he hadn’t
valued what we had as much as I
had. And then I decided it, I was
going to go to his appartment.
I knocked the door –holding my
hand with the other one so it didn’t
shake- but nobody answered. I
kept knocking till my knuckles
hurted and when I least expected
it, he opened the door. He looked
terribly hollow. His eyes were
glassy like if he had been crying
for ages. They looked empty, like
an endless hole. They were
drowning into darkness. His
conforting blue glance wasn’t there
anymore. His smile’s power of
making everbody feel loved was
gone. He was gone though he was
there. I looked at him and he
looked away keeping his head
down. I grabbed his chin to look at
his beautiful green eyes, my
angryness vanished immiediately