What I learned from dad

You might not remember, or maybe I didn’t ever tell you what I felt, when you told me to go for dinner once when I was – one up, one down –  twelve years old. We went to this Japanese place in Chueca we had always seen but never been to. Chris was with us.

We were having dinner and you told me you had two important things to tell me. I got instantly pretty nervous– I just felt the nerves running through my body again, almost ten years after – because I didn’t know what you meant with it. The first thing you said was that you were not going to travel to Madrid as often anymore.

I remember I felt the tears growing in my eyes and I didn’t know how to hold them.  I wanted to be with you and you were saying you were not going to come anymore – you didn’t say anymore, but that was how it felt. I was desolated. I didn’t know what to do and how to tell you that please, continue traveling as often as you did. So many emotions running through my body. So many things to say. I was mad pissed. After that, you smiled and said: I’m not traveling anymore because I’m moving to Madrid!

I didn’t know how to react. What the fuck was wrong with you. You moved me from absolute desolation to pure happiness in less than a minute. I could have fainted. I don’t remember if I burst into tears or I just looked at you, pale and silently, waiting for my body to react. I have such a good memory of that dinner. I still remember your face, Chris smiling in front of you and my confusion. This is a good memory.

I love looking back and seeing all the things we did together. I can’t remember them all and that’s lucky of me. I remember random ones like you teaching me how to sew a “teddy whatattack” or however you want to call them. Futurama and pretty spicy lentejas con chorizo in that room you had rented at the beginning, when we had just moved in to Europe. When you felt asleep in the cinema watching Peter Pan; when I felt asleep in the cinema watching that boring, psychological movie you didn’t like either. Playing football in the park, drawing that notebook you gifted me and writing the stories for each character I drew. Every time you came to pick me up from the airport; every time we left together. When we drove the Poncho from Lisbon to Madrid right before I started 4^th grade. Our first conversation about explicit sex when we were having dinner in France on our way to Rennes le Château.

It’s such a pleasure, such a gift all the time we’ve been together. You’ve been boring very, very few times in this 20 years we have shared. I’ve seen you grow older, get whiter hair and fall in love. I’ve seen you cry very few times and I remember all of them, by some reason. I’ve felt how you, step by step, became someone I want to be like in the future. An example, an inspiration, an idol.

I’ve also suffered. I’ve been sad when you weren’t where I wanted you to be. When you came and I didn’t feel you were there; when you chose another plan instead of me or when you couldn’t fully understand what I was feeling and what I emotionally needed in that moment. I don’t blame you, I would never.

I’ve seen how shy you are underneath your skin when you don’t want to ask me to stay instead when I want to go out, or to do something together when I'm planning something with my friends. That ‘I don’t want to be nuisance’ attitude that I will never understand because I love spending time with you, even if that means listening to your reflexions for two hours straight with a very high-pitch laugh once in a while.

I learn every time I’m with you. I judge your ideas and I learn from the way you have to explain your beliefs. I value your determination and I see what you’ve done and what you have reached with different eyes than yours, that look at it with pride, but also doesn’t really care much about it.

You shaped my way to become who I am right now. I can say this twice in my life: if I can write about things I’ve learnt is because you taught me to learn.

I don’t know if you are the best dad in the world, but you are definitely the dad that best suited me and the best one I could ask for.

All this time together and this is just the beginning, what’s to come will be spectacular as it has always been.

I’m forever thankful,

Love you, Simón.

6. From when I learnt I don't like drugs.

I am not saying this because I know my parents will read it. I’m being fully honest. :) 

It's been a couple of years I've been saying you can't have an opinion on something without trying it before. Experience before words, basically. I don’t like hypocrisy and I try to run away from it as much as I can; it’s very easy falling in its easiness.

I’ve always held huge respect toward drugs, but curiosity too. I had heard of some that led to awesome experiences and I was truly curious about how would they feel. My sensation about it was 80% respect(fear)/20% curiosity. Therefore, I stayed away from it until I thought that maybe I could try some.

All that joy, oblivion, hype, relaxation, laugh, excitement, distraction, love, sadness, reflexion, creativity and silence that came with the experience were spectacular! I enjoyed it and hold good memories of it. But there was always guilt; there was a message I couldn’t read, but I knew it said something important.

What I realised was that everything that they gave me was sensations I had experienced before, but this time I got them with no effort behind. What I mean is: you didn’t have to help anyone to feel that immense happiness, you didn’t have to play 3 hours of football after two study-weeks to experience the hype, distraction and relaxation; you didn’t need to stare at green-brownish eyes to feel love and enjoy the silence of this connection.

I could have all these sensations, but when they were gone I would be empty instead of fulfilled. I would realise the falsehood of the emotions. Furthermore, I believe that in the long run I would get tired of this emotions and they would become bare simple sensations, instead of the luxuries they used to be.

This is for every kind of drugs, alcohol included.

After all this realisation, something else came: I don’t need anything to enjoy a party! I’m fun as I am, independently from drugs or anything that shows up when the neon lights are on.

I don’t know, everything sounds terribly cliché. These are my thoughts about it, but I encourage everyone to try new things. The peacefulness and happiness I find in my 100% of the time mind-control can be found somewhere else. I don’t hold the true, this is just an opinion.

5. I learnt I like.

I like my friends. I like discovering something new. I like photography. I like reading letters somebody wrote to me.

I like guitars. I like biting. I like myself. I like my old self. I like enjoying a beer in the sunset. I like crying.

I like fear. I like Tomy. I like ‘pan tumaca’. I like having breakfast half naked. I like glimpsing eyes in a bar.

I like resting. I like fifa. I like my mom. I like creativity. I like rhythm. I like the desperation of having a crush with someone.

I like hallucinating. I like singing. I like sharing. I like art. I like writing. I like freedom of choice. I like spanking. 

I like lips. I like running. I like sports. I like green eyes. I like rock. I like cold showers after sex.

I like women. I like good team mates. I like watching the sunrise. I like the swing of your legs when you leave my room.

I like silence. I like poetry. I like clapping. I like smiles. I like concerts. I like my dad. I like innovation. I like conversations during asados.

I like hip hop. I like my blog. I like red lipstick. I like soft legs. I like naughtiness. I like when we don’t do what I say. 

I like el Seba. I like smiles. I like dancing. I like Nachito. I like crepes. I like don’t giving a shit.  

I like feeling interesting. I like contributing. I like discussing. I like sensitive necks. I like nonsense.

I like Rick and Morty. I like Alex. I like Instagram. I like laughing. I like passion. I like wine. I like mystery.

I like Dani. I like liking. I like licking. I like Gary Clark Jr. I like good stories. I like going for dinner. I like walking back home.

I like belonging to many places. I like Juan el Astronauta. I like my family. I like animals. I like planes. I like choosing. I like my basic humour.

I like complexity. I like droning on and on. I like passionate kisses. I like porn. I like feeling embarrassed. I like exposure. I like my friends.

I like abnormal structures. I like not following any rules. I like routine. I like traveling. I like feeling part of a globalised world.

I like defending other people’s rights. I like justice. I like tolerance. I like the environment. I like meat. I like respect. I like vegans

I like Ronaldo. I like Amy Schumer. I like Daenerys. I like religion.  I like bullshit. I like lying.

I like projects. I like finishing. I like orgasms. I like indecision. I like long hair. I like tangling your hair in my hands.

I like love. I like tension. I like London. I like Blues. I like waking up early. I like memories. I like gossiping. I like being alone. I like being surrounded by friends.

I like peace. I like the universe. I like being young. I like that this is only the beginning. 

I like.