Very close to my birthday, I found myself thinking about old friends. By circumstances that have to do with my character and others that have more to do with my personal history, I am kind of alone.

One thing I have discovered is that most people have friends that have to do with family relationships. They are family friends, often made through parents, siblings, uncles and other family members. I do not have such kind of friends (nor school friends), because we lived in too many places and my father always stayed away from relatives and his hometown.

I can say that my father was nomad and my mother, who liked to settle anchors and cultivate friendships, was sedentary. Looking back, she only managed to have a sedentary period when, for about eight years, she lived apart from my father. This allowed us to make friendships that later, due to a new interference of my father in our life, were lost in time.

It is curious how, on my birthday, I remembered one of these friends, made through family ties. She had a queen’s name and the beauty of a goddess. Her eyes were the most perfect green and her long hair was always caught in two thick braids that resembled a medieval lady. I think it was a tradition, in her family, to just cut their hair when they got a great deal in life, like going to college, getting a good job, or getting married.

She was not one of my best friends, but we were close enough. I think she even cut her hair and did many of the things she dreamed about. The last time I heard of her, I was informed she had committed suicide. She had a husband and teenage children. At a time when I face gigantic difficulties, I look at the case of some friends who committed suicide and I cannot understand. Their cases have nothing to do with money or personal success, whether family or career. What would have happened to those few good friends who grew tired of living? By the time I celebrated my birthday, facing so many problems that could bring me down, I can not help asking this question: why?