A veces -sólo a veces, mind you- me da por recordar conversaciones significativas.

En mi (no tan) corta vida, he tenido una que otra que me han hecho parar y pensar cosas que no se me habían ocurrido, que estaban sin explorar "como Di_s manda", o que simplemente no se me había pegado la real y soberana gana hacerlo, ya fuera por desidia, pereza, inconveniencia o pavor. Debido a eso, creo prudente y necesario agradecerles a mis amigxs las oportunidades que me brindan para pensar y profundizar en aquellas aguas desconocidas.

Admito que una de las más recientes me dejó incómoda, furiosa y frustrada conmigo misma. Eso de saber -o de obligarse a una misma a reconocer- que no se es como se cree que es una, puede resultar ser un golpe al ego, al orgullo y al autoestima. ¿Cómo lidiar con una situación así?

So... My dad's in hospital due to a heart attack. It's the first Sunday he decided to go cycling after at least 8 weeks of lazing around. Yesterday he invited me to go with him, just as we used to do last year, but I declined.

I should have gone with him. I should have been there to get help sooner. I should have kicked my lazy arse and made myself accompany him. Logically and rationally, I know I wouldn't have been able to prevent the heart attack itself, but I have the feeling that he didn't have help immediately when he first needed it.

I'm writing this while waiting for news in the hospital waiting room. And I am hating myself as it is. And I am hoping that my father hates me a little too, because... I should have been there. And I wasn't.