The Perfect Man (Contradictions)
The only reason I feel alienated is because I didn’t get what I wanted from this world.
34 years after the day I was brought into this world without my consent, I’m still trying to decipher the puzzle of existence.
I’ve tried every remedy the modern world has to offer.
— The excesses that drain serotonin from the body: sex, drugs, and alcohol.
— The search for redemption through spiritual paths: Christian confession and Buddhist meditation. I’m still waiting for an answer from some god.
— Philosophical introspection: I studied with dedication the ideas of those who dared to delve into reason, existence, and being. At some point, I stopped when I felt I was burying myself deeper and deeper into the meaninglessness of life.
And throughout my search, the questions have always been the same.
What does it mean to be happy?
How do I find my purpose?
Why don’t I feel like I belong in this world?
Where can I find true love? The kind they talk about in movies that seems essential to feeling complete.
Is love even necessary?
How do I get rid of the anguish of knowing that death is approaching while the days pass by lifelessly and without novelty?
Is it possible to feel excitement for the future and not this overwhelming indifference with which I go through my days?
How the hell do I figure out what I want from this world?
What am I doing here?
Sometimes I wish I didn’t think.
To find the reason for the current state of inertia in which I find myself, in the middle of nowhere, I find it wise to take a brief look back at the paths of my life.
It has been a year since I decided to take refuge in a remote place in a small town that isn’t on any maps.
With a small investment, I bought a little plot of land with a humble house—enough for a man without great aspirations like me.
And here I spend my days, growing my own food, raising my livestock, surviving only with what is necessary.
Sometimes I look at my dog and feel envious.
Because his mind is programmed to be happy simply by having what he needs to survive (or so I believe).
Meanwhile, I—like most humans, perhaps—worry about things that would seem trivial in the eyes of a conscious beast.
And the worst part is, I don’t even know what worries me.
All I know is that, no matter how hard I’ve tried, the emptiness I feel in my soul has left me in a catatonic, inactive state—killing time until time kills me.
For most of my life, I tried to become the "perfect man" because I thought that was the way to achieve that happiness that only seems to exist in fantasy books and movies, where the protagonist finishes his story with a genuine smile that will never fade for the rest of his life.
However, the world and the contradictions of its inhabitants make it difficult to understand what, or who, this human being is—the one who seems to have found happiness and purpose.
Here are a couple of examples of the situations that drove me mad.
Mom (when I was 12 years old):
— Son, the day you find love, the day you feel that this is the person who completes you, don’t let them go. Love is found by luck, but it is kept with effort. Temptations are everywhere, but the peace of a heart that has found shelter for its sorrows in another person is invaluable.
When my mom said this, she had already been divorced for ten years. Each year, the mark of loneliness on her face grew deeper—a soul abandoned, desperate to feel protected.
Over time, I started to believe that love is nothing more than an unnecessary drug.
Dad (when I was 17 years old):
— Son, people come and go. The only thing that matters is living in the here and now because tomorrow we may not be here. You don’t need anyone, got it?
My father gave me this advice two hours before going to meet one of his girlfriends. He looked excited. However, on the rare nights when he had no one to spend the night with, he drowned his time in alcohol, waiting for some woman to text him so he wouldn’t feel alone.
Through his actions, more than his words, I understood that all of us—young and old—lie to ourselves for comfort.
Álvaro (one of my best friends, whom I cut off the day I escaped civilization):
— Bro, men aren’t made to feel sadness. That’s for women or people from the first world. We came into this world to fuck, make money, and gain respect and glory. Trust few, and just focus on doing what you have to do: Be your best version every day so you’ll never lack anything and have everything you’ve always dreamed of.
And yeah, Álvaro lacked nothing—at least materially. But his endless pursuit of more, more, and more seemed to have no end. Many times, I saw Álvaro stressed over a failed business deal.
Álvaro had many things—everything except peace.
Sara (one of my ex-girlfriends):
— Love, trust me. You don’t have to hold back with me. I want to be your safe place. Let me hear your worries, your fears, your dreams, and your hopes. That’s what we’re together for. I love you.
Days after saying these words, in a moment alone in our room, I decided to take her up on that offer and opened up to her. It was almost as if all my frustrations and sadness exploded into tears and laments from the depths of my soul. Moments later, I felt relieved and safe.
I think two months later, our relationship ended. And the evidence showed me that the reason was, in short, exactly what Álvaro had always warned me about: “Men don’t cry, bro.”
Bernardo (one of my professors when I studied sociology, and one of the most abstract and unhappy people I’ve ever met):
— Young people! You are here for a reason: You have the power to change the world. The only thing that matters in life is the mark you leave on history. Be the builders of a better world! We exist to serve.
Over time, this seemed unnecessary and even false to me. We’re nothing more than microscopic ants in an infinite universe. This world is destined to explode in a few million years—maybe even sooner if humanity speeds up the process. What’s the point of leaving a legacy in a finite existence?
Elena (a hippie I met at a bus station and lived with for a few months until our own insecurities led us to part ways):
— You have to live day by day, my friend. The future doesn’t exist yet, the past is already gone. The only real thing is the present… Live it!
However, during our journey, she confessed to me many times that she felt just as lost in the world as I did. Sometimes she worried about not knowing where she would sleep that night. And even when uncertainty silenced her heart, I could see in her face that she always longed to feel like she had a home.
No one is immune to loneliness, sadness, and the emotional voids that come with being a wanderer in this world.
Money doesn’t bring happiness.
But without money, you can’t find it.
Be yourself.
But tone it down if you’re too exotic.
Find your purpose in life.
But don’t waste time looking for it. Actually, don’t even bother—just make money.
Love with all your heart.
But don’t be too intense, because no one deserves to feel that special.
Chase your dreams with all your might.
But if you don’t know what you want (like most people on this planet), here’s some ecstasy and weed to make you feel good for a while.
If you don’t know why you’re here,
Just live until you can’t anymore. Along the way, you’ll smile and feel good a couple of times.
It’s been a year and two months in my little refuge.
Nothing has changed. I wake up at 5 AM to feed the animals. Then I tend to my crops. During the day, while waiting for death, I write—maybe one day, among the thousands of pages scattered across the dirty floor of my room, I’ll find the answer to enjoying the little time fate has given me on this planet.
Though, for me, just finding peace and silencing these doubts in my head would be enough.
Because being happy starts with knowing oneself first.
How does one reach that point?
I've done everything in this life:
— I've had dozens of different jobs.
— I've loved in every possible way, both intensely and with restraint.
— I've tried every option the world offers to silence existential doubts: I've danced, sung, written, spoken, and done too many things to count on these pages. And every time I finished one of these actions, I felt the greatest existential void because I realized I was merely seeking a thousand and one ways for my body to release hormones to feel happy for brief moments—substances that keep the brain from thinking about itself.
The awareness that I exist and that I must do something with this opportunity fate has given me on this planet tortures me.
I almost always envy my dog.
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