I had left the town a few years ago to start my life in the capital. I had left behind a place that never felt entirely mine and I had left behind all audience of the queer world that I could only glimpse through screens. A part of me wanted to live and encounter everything that, despite not having been denied, seemed to escape the common habitat of my being.
Now I work in an LGTBIQ+ cocktail pub; I have made the night my niche. The weeks go by and, with them, a series of clients appear in the establishment who have become regulars, some so much so that they are part of my daily life. I have surrounded myself with very good people and I am happy. I have also had my potholes, my wells of pain and emptiness. Life is not simple.
There is always something to do; You work long and hard to be able to afford your life here. I suppose that whoever wants something, something costs him. The days slip through my hands, the minute hand doesn’t stop and I don’t know if at some point I will be so tired of the frenzy that living here can be, for the moment I still want to discover what awaits me here.
I haven’t been there for long, but I have seen how the capital consumes people, how it wears them down and how they end up returning to their place of origin or looking for a more peaceful alternative. I seek harmony and temperance in the eventful destiny, in the unpredictable life that I have decided to take, trying to find an oasis of peace and tranquility in the empire of concrete, traffic, clubs, among transvestites and excesses.
I’m afraid of losing my sense of knowing who I am or what I want in my life, even though I think I’m doing it right. There is no doubt that, as the days go by, I am the Félix Hortolano that I want to be.
