I remember that in times past you and I were friends. We spent the days playing regardless of the passing hours. We were allies, partners in crime and travel copanions through different parts of the city. I remember that I loved you intensely. You endured everything, falls, cars, scratches, cuts and the occasional kick in the butt that you received for being rare.
But lately I have noticed a decreased interest on your part. Every time I approach you to propose an outing, an adventure or anything, you tell me that you prefer to stay home, that you are tired, that you’ve had a hard day or that you simply don’t want to. I don’t understand, if you used to love partying before, you loved to stay up and dance all night, meet new people and socialize and now it turns out that you became a hermit.
In those times the cold did not make you hesitate, any shirt was good to cover up, since the diseases did not dare to mess with you. We could play in the rain and run, wetting our feet in the rivers that formed on one side of the sidewalk until they were were white and wrinkled. Now if you get a little wet from the taxi to work you have to be in bed for three days with such a cold that it seems that you sold your lungs to the devil.
Before, we screamed and let out sounds so loud that the windows shattered and the dogs howled. We sang in all the tones, from the most natural to the most forced for hours and we could continue having a conversation as if it were nothing, now I notice that if we talk with a little more passion in a normal chat, the voice begins to sound hoarse and worn out and the time comes when we can no longer speak without coughing because your throat itches.
We went to the club Friday, Saturday and Sunday and on Monday we went to work at 6 in the morning and in the afternoon to the university to finish off as if nothing had happened. The worse that could happen is that a yawn appeared to remind us that we had misbehaved. Lately if we go out on Friday, we occupy Saturday and Sunday (and sometimes even Monday) in bed in order to recover. And we don’t even drink, think of what would happened if we start toasting our life because I don’t know if we would make it through the weekend.
What’s going on with you, body? Everything is already blurry and sometimes the walls are so stupid that they get in my way and make me collide with them. People greet me from afar and the truth is that I do not know if it is the saying hello to me, if it is someone I know or if it they are giving me the finger, and I, as an idiot, am smiling and waving in response (although it amuses me to imagine how strange that must seem).
Why do I eat something greasy or slightly spicy now and suffer from heartburn, gas, abdominal pain or industrial diarrhea that makes me wonder if I did something awful in another life? Now when I arrive anywhere I have to investigate where the bathroom is in case I feel like urinating and I have to worry about bringing toilet paper in case another need comes along and the nearest toilet has no roll. Before the idea of going to a public bathroom was inconceivable and now I appreciate its existence because everything seems a matter of life and death.
Lately my waist, neck, elbows, love handles, eyes, teeth, and toes hurt me, even the if I stomped it ten years ago because «all the blows come out sooner or later». On cold nights I find myself rubbing my legs to get warm but when I was a child I laughed at the old men who did it. I was never cold and now I cannot warm my back or my feet.
From my lips come expressions like «in my time» and «years ago …» when those were the ones said by my grandparents. Or worst of all: I’m too old for that. Ouch! That is definitely the most painful. As a boy I thought that my soul would always be that of a child, and although I am mentally immature, you, my dear body, remind me of my real age.
And I’m only 36 years old, I’m afraid to imagine the range of aches and pains that will invade you, my beloved body when we are 50, if we arrive, of course. At the rate we are going we will turn to dust in the following years, hahahaha.
You betrayed me, body! You’ve let me down. I thought that you were always going to be strong and that we were going to have many adventures together, but you have become lazy and a crybaby. Can not stand anything. You spend your time complaining about things that used to make you laugh. It seemed ridiculous to you that people complained so much and now it turns out that you are the one complaining. María Pains would say momma Vacci. I am disappointed to see you deteriorate and abandon me. It bothers me to see how you become weak and fragile. I am not traumatized by your getting wringles, that is natural, but it does cause me great sadness to see that you are failing me.
Now everything bothers you, everything makes you is irritable, everything is dangerous. Before you could do anything and now there is no limit that you can’t find to use as an excuse for not doing things. Where is that brave and fancy spirit that used to jump from trees? Now even to get off the bench you do it with fear of twisting your ankle. You have become a coward.
It is time for me to go out to exercise and eat better, it is unthinkable that I feel so tired at 36, I refuse to let myself fall or to give up, I am going to walk a few kilometers… but later because right now my feet hurt and I have to sit down for a while…
And you, sisters, brothers, what hurts? Share … if arthritis allows …