Juan J. Sánchez
Sponsor
First and foremost, this is a serious topic. If you're planning on spamming, or not interested in reading, please take your bullshit elsewhere.
Where to start? Perhaps I should start by saying the only reason I'm writing this at HBGames.org is because I don't think my friends give a rat's ass about my personal life and I have nowhere else where to go. That being said, I hope you can find the story of my life, at the very least entertaining.
Her name is Gabriela. She's a brunette and she has beautiful black eyes. I've asked her out, twice, and both times she's said no. Strangely enough, she appears to like me. She gets upset if I don't talk to her. Rumors are she's dating someone, a young doctor. Gabriela is in my class. I'm a med student.
Gabriela is what you would call a family girl. She doesn't go out much. She doesn't drink. She doesn't smoke. She likes to run. She likes music and dancing. She's also particularly young for a fourth year med student and doesn't know much of the world. She's very much different to me. She's rigorously religious and I'm atheist. She's incredibly studious and I'm a slacker. She's popular and I have notorious fame for being an outcast. But her simplistic manière d'être captivates. She's not the smartest woman I've known. She's not the most beautiful woman I've seen. But in a rotten world like mine, her kindness is absolutely unique.
Stepping aside from this subject, I will now introduce myself. I'm 21-years-old. I live in Costa Rica. I study medicine. I'm a classical pianist. I smoke cigarettes. I drink beer and wine. I don't eat something if I don't like how it tastes. I love cooking and I love food. I love Frank Sinatra. I love classical rock. And I love spending time by myself.
I was watching Das weiße Band Saturday afternoon at a small theater in San José. Afterwards, I walked into a local bar to have a couple of beers and smoke clove cigarettes. I ended up getting drunk and picking up the bartender, a nice Venezuelan girl with a big smile. She gave me her phone number.
The fact is, I've been speaking about the last days of my life. The story of my life really begins seven or eight years ago. It begins with many sons of bitches whose names I don't even know, but managed to ruin my life. There are two sons of bitches whose names I do know, and these are Rafael Ángel Calderón Guardia and Miguel Ángel Rodríguez, both of them former presidents of the republic and personal friends of my father.
As it turns out, in a swift political movement, the people I've just mentioned were brought onto public trial in a very successful attempt to bring down the political party they represented. For those Americans who have no idea what the heck am I talking about, try to imagine Liberals breaking up the Democrats. Given my luck, my dad was involved in this political circus. I was 13 at the moment. The trial, to this very day, has not yet come to a fucking end.
As I'm writing this, I should be studying for a Psychiatry test, and I'm getting pretty tired. Summarizing my dad's life, which by extension is the story of my life too, he grew in a poor house, studied for over 20 years to become an internist, emergenciologist, intensivist and pharmacist, and got screwed over.
Among other things, my former girlfriend lives in Melbourne, and I still very much love her, studying my ass off has been a son of a bitch, since I suffer from recurring depressions, and since I don't have time for a social life, most of my friends have stopped talking to me. The only thing keeping me from killing myself is the thought of some day in the near future getting the fuck out of this country.
And still, here I am, trying to figure out why this girl won't go out with me.
Where to start? Perhaps I should start by saying the only reason I'm writing this at HBGames.org is because I don't think my friends give a rat's ass about my personal life and I have nowhere else where to go. That being said, I hope you can find the story of my life, at the very least entertaining.
Her name is Gabriela. She's a brunette and she has beautiful black eyes. I've asked her out, twice, and both times she's said no. Strangely enough, she appears to like me. She gets upset if I don't talk to her. Rumors are she's dating someone, a young doctor. Gabriela is in my class. I'm a med student.
Gabriela is what you would call a family girl. She doesn't go out much. She doesn't drink. She doesn't smoke. She likes to run. She likes music and dancing. She's also particularly young for a fourth year med student and doesn't know much of the world. She's very much different to me. She's rigorously religious and I'm atheist. She's incredibly studious and I'm a slacker. She's popular and I have notorious fame for being an outcast. But her simplistic manière d'être captivates. She's not the smartest woman I've known. She's not the most beautiful woman I've seen. But in a rotten world like mine, her kindness is absolutely unique.
Stepping aside from this subject, I will now introduce myself. I'm 21-years-old. I live in Costa Rica. I study medicine. I'm a classical pianist. I smoke cigarettes. I drink beer and wine. I don't eat something if I don't like how it tastes. I love cooking and I love food. I love Frank Sinatra. I love classical rock. And I love spending time by myself.
I was watching Das weiße Band Saturday afternoon at a small theater in San José. Afterwards, I walked into a local bar to have a couple of beers and smoke clove cigarettes. I ended up getting drunk and picking up the bartender, a nice Venezuelan girl with a big smile. She gave me her phone number.
The fact is, I've been speaking about the last days of my life. The story of my life really begins seven or eight years ago. It begins with many sons of bitches whose names I don't even know, but managed to ruin my life. There are two sons of bitches whose names I do know, and these are Rafael Ángel Calderón Guardia and Miguel Ángel Rodríguez, both of them former presidents of the republic and personal friends of my father.
As it turns out, in a swift political movement, the people I've just mentioned were brought onto public trial in a very successful attempt to bring down the political party they represented. For those Americans who have no idea what the heck am I talking about, try to imagine Liberals breaking up the Democrats. Given my luck, my dad was involved in this political circus. I was 13 at the moment. The trial, to this very day, has not yet come to a fucking end.
As I'm writing this, I should be studying for a Psychiatry test, and I'm getting pretty tired. Summarizing my dad's life, which by extension is the story of my life too, he grew in a poor house, studied for over 20 years to become an internist, emergenciologist, intensivist and pharmacist, and got screwed over.
Among other things, my former girlfriend lives in Melbourne, and I still very much love her, studying my ass off has been a son of a bitch, since I suffer from recurring depressions, and since I don't have time for a social life, most of my friends have stopped talking to me. The only thing keeping me from killing myself is the thought of some day in the near future getting the fuck out of this country.
And still, here I am, trying to figure out why this girl won't go out with me.
