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Myself
by Elena Gil (2008-09, 5º B)
People used to say that I was a good man. Though they keep saying it, I felt this is no longer true. I don't love my wife anymore, I can barely stand her. This is not a recent change, though. Our relationship began to fade after having our second son. Before that time, I was a happy man or, at least, I wasn't at all concerned about not being so. My daily routines were simple, the way best things are. I used to work, come home and watch Lily play. Sometimes I would go out and have some beers with my friends. I mean, my life was the usual, big problems I had not. My wife appeared then to me as an amiable, interesting woman who I could be - most of the time - at ease with. Not only could we watch some films together, but we also shared private jokes, went out for dinner once a week and continued to have some intimacy even after Lily was born. Actually, both of them were bound to be the essentials of my life, which I found utterly satisfying.
However now, when I contemplate our family, I can only see a small nursery, my wife having become the brilliant supervisor. She is so committed to that role that I can barely see the woman behind it. The harder I try, the less involved in this acting I feel, except for the times spent with Lily and John.
So I'm seeing another woman, an old friend. It's only a parenthesis in our lives, a second role we play in a different scenario, the curtains of which lend to it not so dreary an atmosphere.
(283 words)