Practicing. They are just ideas. Thanks Jotam and P
Sometimes I feel my name is not Monica although, I am fairly sure that I am Monica. It is a contradiction I have with myself. Maybe it is because you don’t choose your name, it is given to you. Maybe it is because you don’t call yourself and when you stop to think about it, you realize that it is strange you are called by that name. In the end you have to accept, you are the person with that name. Then, you have to stop again and ask yourself who is the person with that name? I am that person of course, but who am I?
I am not sure if your name defines your personality. Even before meeting someone whose name is Monica, I had believed in it. I read that ages ago the meaning of Monica’s name is one ‘who loves the solitude’. I love the solitude therefore, I thought it was true. But it’s not completely true, not at all. There is a world of difference between Monica and Monica. Maybe it is because I am Monica myself and she is that other Monica. I am a person who loves the solitude, who sometimes has changed her name for Camila and who has invented a dad since she has memories.
Eduardo is not a ghost; He is a character in my life. I have invented him, I have written about him all my life because when I write about him, he is alive. When I don’t write he becomes dead. His death is my beginning. I am not the same person I would have been if he had been alive. I am not the same person, because as I have been told endlessly, your dead people follow you all of your life. You grew up with their absence and you are brought up with the hole their absence has caused. I am Monica, who has had to invent a dad since she was a child.
Sometimes you are not sure of your life anymore. You are not sure of them anymore. They are a ghost on the other side of the world. Sometimes, as you have thought other times, you have to break not the law but the rules. When you have been an unbreakable person, someday you will realize that one day, whatever day, it would be enjoyable to be the other person and not follow the world. You just need to feel that you are the other person, with the other name. It’s not easy. You don’t find the way.
It was 2:00 in the morning when the clocks went back an hour. Marie waited in her bed, alone. People slept an hour more that morning, but not her. The clock Marie has inside didn’t change itself at 2:00 in the early morning. She was not that kind of person. She needed a hint.
At her 9:00, it meant, at 8:00, she drank a cup of tea, her second cup of tea on the day. She was anxious. What happens with the time you skip? One hundred clocks were ticking at the same time. One hundred clocks that didn’t understand the hour back as well as she didn’t.
When he got up, Marie was being driven mad by her clocks. One hundred clocks ticking one hour behind, and in spite of the fact she was trying to wind them back, the time went quicker. It’s not easy to fight with it. Not when other people are walking around with it.
- “What happens with the time you skip?” Marie asked him.- “Nothing happens” he answered her.- “Nothing? You cannot lose an hour and nothing happens”- “You waste time taking buses and nothing happens. You go back an hour and you have an hour more to sleep”.- “To sleep?”- “Just to sleep”