Photo by: Paul Garaizar


“Almost everything can be stolen, because very rare things can actually have an owner, and those that do can never ever be stolen.”

A phone, a backpack, books, photos, notes, drawings, boxes containing a million and a half memories, a house, two dogs, 11 years, peace of mind, self esteem and money are some of the things I have lost to thieves. All kinds of thieves.

At the time, when each individual event that led to the loss of those things, I thought to myself that a part of me had died, a part of me was gone forever. But still many years later I am complete. Not a single part of me is lost. Only things are gone, feelings that have disappeared forever. I remain complete, even more than ever before.

I was only a kid, I had just finished school a couple of years before and was starting college when two guys pointing their guns at my face took my father, his car and my backpack with them. I can remember I was petrified, I was so angry at the moment, filled with rage and fear at the same time, but I couldn’t move. The sound of the gun’s charging handle was enough to stop me dead on my tracks when I tried to do something. I felt like a coward. It was only after I saw them drive away that I recovered the ability to move, I ran after them, yelling for help but accomplished nothing.

Of all the things they stole that day the most important of them returned, a little bruised and beaten both physically and mentally, but alive. Nothing else mattered when my dad came into the house that evening.

Even now I can remember all the emotions I had that day, but as hard as I try I cannot remember all the things I had in my backpack besides a phone, a music player and probably some books.

By now, trash, maybe dust, nothing worth remembering really.

I used to be in a really toxic relationship with a horrible, horrible person for far too long. We lived together and I was overly committed so I thought that I had to do everything I could to make it work no matter what. I was lied to in the most terrible way a person who “loves you” can lie to you. Backstabbed and fooled, my self-esteem took a plunge into a very dark place.

Even though I saw myself broken with no hope of recovery, I took courage and the little dignity I had left and put and end to it all. I walked away from everything we had together. I didn’t care about keeping anything, I wanted nothing. Only one thing mattered to me.

I had to recover myself from the darkness. I learned an immense lesson from that experience and became a better me in the process.

I look back and I miss nothing, not a single thing worth recovering.

I had a beautiful apartment in a quiet and peaceful neighbourhood, trees and nature all over. I loved spending my Saturday mornings reading books in the bench by the side of my block. Making coffee and smoking a cigarette at night on a chair by the side of my front door.

It was the perfect spot for an active imagination, I lived humbly with very few things, most of my belongings were books and a bunch of boxes filled with tons of artwork, notes, memoirs and stuff.

One day after several days of intense rain, a wall that surrounded the neighbourhood collapsed and lots of water flooded the drains and gutters by the side of my house. I wasn’t in the apartment when it happened but water started pouring inside the house damaging almost everything I had.

By now I had a better understanding of detachment and it wasn’t so hard to throw away all that muddy mess that once had been dear objects.

I am a light traveler now.

Everything I have fits inside a tiny room, and everything I own fits inside my heart.

No matter how much I think that something belongs to me I realize that I am but a traveller in this world, in which I’m not going to stay forever, and everything that belongs to this world will stay here.

I know now this is just a journey in which only the love I have, the compassion I feel, and the consciousness I attain can belong to me, and only to me, wherever I may go thereafter.

Thank you for reading.