Parallel reality

crying_eye_2_by_hg_art-d745eq2

 

I stand,I sit, I stand again. I open the fridge, I close the fridge. I go to the balcony, I mumble some words to myself, then I go back inside. I hear some gunshots far away that seem to get nearer every time. I stay there for a couple of minutes, that in a blink, turn into hours. Gunshots used to alarm me, now they have become part of my life’s background music.

I think of so many places I could be right now, I think of how many people are walking calmly in the streets somewhere in the world. I find myself trapped in my apartment. I feel I don’t belong here, I feel asphyxiated between these walls. I convince myself that all of this is going to get better, that one day I will wake up and find this country fixed. Then I bump with reality and try to digest that this place is going to stay just the way it is for a very long time.

I am not free here. My creative side battles with anxiety every single day. If I go out I am afraid that I might never come back. Walking on the streets has become a distant memory. Going to the supermarket has become a nightmare because you never find anything you are looking for and you wait in infinite lines to buy some groceries.

This is not the country the news show you. This corrupt government has censored us all. They live and nurture themselves with all of the Venezuelan money like leeches trying to survive at someone else’s expense. 

I am a spectator of multiple robberies, crimes and people dying everyday. I am a witness of the black hole Venezuela has become.  We are lacking important medicines, we wait hours in infinite lines to get a carton of milk. I am part of the audience when I see how delinquents take lives for a phone. Because yes, dear reader, an Iphone here costs more than someone’s life.

This year has been a nightmare. So many realities colliding at the same time. First the protests on the streets, then the media being censored. After that, thousands of young students being arrested and tortured. Finally the people’s absolute silence and apathy.

I don’t want to be scared anymore. This blog is a vessel that helps me escape this reality. I try to live a normal life but find myself living hostage in a parallel world. 

They call themselves «socialists», I call them mocking clowns. Venezuela has never seen such poverty and crime in its life. What kind of socialism is that? I invite the Venezuelan government to open a book and educate themselves for a change.

Don’t be fooled by what you see in the news. If you still don’t believe me I invite you to come and stay here for couple of months. I guarantee you that after a couple of days, you will be buying a ticket to go back…if you are lucky enough to find one.