I grew up in a middle class family, rich with the magic touch of eccentric father. In 2003, when he was thirteen, took me to a conference to show what war was. At that time the U.S. war began to quicken and he wanted to see the bullet holes with my own eyes. Did not want the military-industrial complex brain wash me and convinced me that the war was wrong.
My mother is very religious and sometimes went with her to church on Sunday morning. When worship was over, she bowed, reverently, and began to mourn. I also cried, but did not know whether an incipient religious fervor or simply because my mother was crying.
When I started high school, I had my first philosophy book and decided that God was a crutch that did not need. Faith innocent girl collided head on with the pseudo-intellectuals of a first-year student in high school.
In high school, much of what I learned from the teachers I had decidedly nothing to do with the curriculum. There were many people at that time that were repressed themselves, and say that I was pretty out of control. It seemed that every door that conventional rules marked with a NO hid the secret of a lustful pleasure that I could not miss. All that seems outrageous, I wanted to. And it usually did.
Do not know what to do with my life, though I remember that my parents did not stop begging me to do something. He went from excitement to excitement, from dream to dream, looking for a sense of identity or a purpose, a sense that finally my life had meaning. Knew he had talent, but did not know why. I knew I was smart, but I was too frantic to apply my mind to my own circumstances. I was sinking more and more into my own neurotic patterns, looking for pain relief in people or anything I could find to turn away from myself. He was always trying to make something happen in my life, but nothing happened too important, unless the drama created around things not happening.
During those years I had a huge rock with disgust at myself installed in the pit of my stomach, and that got worse with each step that was going on. As my pain intensified, so did my interest in philosophy: Eastern, Western, academic, Kierkegaard, the I Ching, existentialism, radical Christian theology of God's death, Buddhism and others. I had always felt some mysterious cosmic order of things, but never been able to apply it to my own life.
One day we were sitting with my brother and said everyone thought it was weird.
- It's like you have some sort of virus, "she explained as if you are missing a chromosome.
I remember thinking at that time would fly off my body. I felt that I belonged to this world. Often had the feeling that life was a kind of private club whose password had given everyone but me. And that was one of those moments. Others felt they knew a secret that I did not know, but I did not ask for him to not knew they did not know.
At my age, I was in a shambles.
He believed that others were dying inside, but could not or would not talk about it. I kept thinking there was something very important that no one spoke. Nor had the words to explain it, but I was sure that the world had something fundamental did not work. How could we all thought that this stupid game to succeed in life, as I'm actually embarrassed me, and who could not play, could include all the sense in being here?
Many know that we have what it takes: the presence, education, talent, credentials ... But in certain domains are paralyzed. We do not stop something from outside, but something inside. We do not restrain the government, or hunger or poverty. No we are afraid of people. We are afraid, period. A diffuse fear. We fear others dislike or to like. We are afraid of failure or success. We fear we die young and growing older. We are more afraid of life than death.
Only we are ashamed of ourselves, because we think that by now should be better. Sometimes make the mistake of believing that others are not as scared as us, and that only serves to scare most. Maybe they know something we do not know. Perhaps we are missing a chromosome.

Instead, as soon as you surrender to life was as if I told you:
"Sorry, honey, but the foundations were cracked, not to mention the rats that were in the bedroom. I thought it best to start all over again.

Our generation has sunk into a thinly disguised self-loathing. And always, desperately even, we are looking for an exit, whether by way of growth or by fleeing. We learned to make an art of escapism.
Until you end up falling on his knees, only if you're playing to life, and at some level you feel fear, because you know you're just playing, in the end justifies the squeezed juice.

ONE DAY CONTINUE TO ADD MORE AND MORE TO THIS SMALL BIOGRAPHY