It was a normal morning as always, I, guess.

I placed my thick
glasses on my blind eyes as per usual and went straight to the bathroom to
look at my face on the mirror hoping something has changed, but it was
pointless everything was still the same. Jacob took a cold shower and
thought about the things he’ll have to do throughout the day, but there was
something off, he couldn’t stop thinking about his meaning, maybe it was to
be loved, to be lonely or to just love others. In that humid and beautifully
tiled bathroom he decided that he was going to find his purpose no matter
what, otherwise life was just not worth it. As he was ready, he headed out
to the kitchen and saw his parents. I really try, but they are so annoying,
they never listen and maybe I’m the problem. You know what, I just don’t
care anymore. My mother stared at me and my father too, they just said
“ goodmorning “ , nothing else. What am I supposed to say? Someday I’ll
leave and my presence is not going to missed I hope. Jacob left his house
without saying a word other than “ goodmorning”. He grabbed his backpack
and reached out for his favorite book “ Educated “ by Tara Westover. The
book somehow reassembled his life, he was alone without a purpose, yet
with a chance, his troubled brains.

He patiently waited for the bus that was going to take him tho his
safe zone the university campus. In the midsts of the crowds he just could
blend and pretend he was famous, at least for a second, he felt seen. With
my smiley face I said - Hello ! How are you ? to the bus driver. He
responded with a grumpy face and decided to ignore me, bet he didn’t
listen. I reached for my lucky seat, and hid my nose all the way long in my
book reading in between the lines this unfair world. When I got to my
destination I headed out to the buse’s exit, and said outloud bye! To the
driver. I didn't care if he listen or not I just knew I would always keep my
values and routines.

I would always walk alone from the buse’s stop to campus everyday,
and while I did in the journey, I appreciated the cracked concrete in the
sidewalk, the old rusty benches, and mostly my memories with Rosa. My
memories of being in love made me dread, but at least they made me
realize that even when I felt love I was still alone. As I walked that day I
saw a beautiful colored yellow bird that was flying to her nest, instantly I
remembered my mother and how she used to call me, my little bird. He
finally got to campus, and as always he blended in the crowds and felt
ease. His schedule was very tight, so he always carried an apple and
chocolate bars in his backpack. As I pierced through the halls, I realized
that I almost could feel the polished stone floors with my bare feet, of
course I’m not crazy, don’ you think. During my childhood I was labeled with
the title retarded, but is up to me to accept it. I walked to my first class,
swimming class. When I entered the locker room I saw my classmates and
saluted each one of them, but maybe I was being annoying, so I decided to
stop. I went straight to my locker to change myself. As I opened my locker I
heard the same pleasing sound my lock always makes, and as if by magic
it waked me up, there was no one in the room. I convinced myself that they
were there and they just went to class, but I knew, I knew. I headed directly
to class with a capsule in my mouth, begging myself to sallow it, but I had
to clear my mind of any doubts before taking the decision. I took a deep
dive and a thought instantly came to my mind, and it just didn’t stop
bothering me. This force ached my head, my limbs, my body and even my
soul and spirit. The thought was about the most sacred thing we can see,
feel and beg for, water. I floated and stayed for a moment thinking about
oceans. They are immense and sometimes dangerous, they are free but
captive, and I instantly decided that my purpose was to be as big as
oceans and clear as water, even if I didn’t understand the good and bad
perks of it , someday I would. Today was not the day. I spitted the pill away
and finished my swimming class. “ I give you my treasure “ - I said and
handed out my book to a stranger.
A letter by Angel Garcia