Chapter 29: July 2017

I’m Not Talking About Self-Help

I didn’t intend to write a self-help book; instead, I aimed to make writing one of my most popular tools to help organize reason and senses.

I’m not talking about self-help but finding a balance between sanity and madness. The prudence we must consider, regardless of our different contexts, cannot falter in the face of the emotional imbalance that may be present.

Adaptation to transparency, to the rawness that disorients us without crumbling words. I’m referring to the emotional instability that needs repair.

Forgotten memory: a dream where time seemed to breathe down our necks, accompanied by a constant fear of death. A lonely older brother, a displaced migrant. Clear ideas, feelings of daily overcoming, and not wanting to be normal out of necessity. Above good and evil with forgotten memories. The most important thing will be to leave a mark and adapt—or we will have died.

Ambitious memory of renunciation and denunciation of the opposite idea of “us.” Ironies of life, like tireless thoughts that say a lot about you. Youth, unforgiving religion. It became more noticeable in the mountains when savoring hatred for God was insufficient. It’s time to speak again. There are so many constants and ignorance, and we end up unaware of what we are losing. Who will remember us? It’s just a matter of time. The most challenging part will be understanding ourselves with different eyes. You only live once. The future will become part of our sweet memories alongside our innocent youth.

I don’t want to talk about self-help but our false freedom if we aren’t occupied with our lives. Good habits that indicate the value of truth, like our tendency to unmask mediocrity.

This book concludes not without thanking your company. Not without hoping to reread us many years from now to see who we have become. And to draw the smile we deserve.

Work. Love. Dream. Smile.

I’m not talking about self-help, but about ending to begin everything with eyes on a memory.