Brave and Precious Anguish What a high price I paid for questioning everything— without even knowing, today, why. I began, with fierce resolve, by doubting the hardest thing of all: myself. And without ever stopping, I went on doubting the world— and inevitably, by doubting everything, breathless, I almost ended myself. And so, first I went mad, and then I learned to live mad, and in that madness, I felt myself grow. For when I was sane I could find no handhold in the boundless fields of doubt— only other madmen, poor souls who believed themselves sane. Faded, blurred conclusions came later, giving way to the next ones… and I made an everlasting pact with anguish— precious in its light and in its shadow. Anguish became, from then until now, my dearest and truest teacher. Until that fateful day of Neftalí, when I found myself afloat after drowning in this deceitful play called life— and rescued, in an instant, by who knows whom. All I know is this: that my anguish is brave and precious— and for it, I have paid a high price.
