All language subtitles for Yo, adolescente

The guys were right about the band.

- They're becoming such Killjoys.
- Why ?

DECEMBER 30TH, 2004

How could they stop the concert
because of a lousy flare? Is it a joke?

- Wait until a spark gets into your eye.
- Put up with it, bro!

Hi, Moni.

Yes, I'm with him.

Mom, I'm okay.

Yeah, I'll put him on. It's your mom.

- Why?
- Hi, mom.

- No.
- What? Of course I'm not dead, mom.

Okay, stop. Just stop crying.
I'm on my way.

- Where?
- What happened?

She went nuts. Shall we go?

You go, I'll stay and wait for Árbol.

- Okay. See you.
- Take care.

- Take care, bro.
- Yeah.

I'm fine, nothing happened to me.

Hello!

- Hi, mom.
- Nico!

- Thank god!
- What happened, mom?

There was a fire at a concert
in the Once area.

Lots of people died.

Are you on your way home?

Gómez, Fernando. Gómez, Emanuel.

Gómez, Martín. González, Lenadro.

González, Marcelo. González, Laura.

This is the current situation
in the Once area...

Nico.

- You're home.
- I'm fine, mom.

You spoke with your mom 2 hours ago.
Where were you?

I'm just a bit late, it's not a big deal.
I didn't reply to you because...

She was so worried!
She thought you were there!

How can you be so insensitive?

One of my friends might have been there,

and you complain
because I was a bit late?

Who's being insensitive now?

...see one, two, three of them.

There are many parents crying
at this very moment.

You motherfuckers!

FEBRUARY 5TH, 2005

TEENAGE YEARS
LONG LIFE TO ROCK

LET THE MAN BE WHAT THE BOY PROMISED

TO BE STRONG

CORNERED

SONGS FOR THE DAYS

TEENAGER, SUFFERER
FANZINE NUMBER 8 BY POL

I FEEL EMPTY SIDE
WRITING AND DRAWING MAKE ME FEEL BETTER

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY,
USE THIS SHEET OF PAPER

How are you?

Hi.

- Hi.
- Cool T-shirt.

Thanks.

The word "teenager"
has nothing to do with suffering.

- Didn't you know?
- How come?

- Yes.
- Where does the word "president" come from?

It comes from the verb "to preside".

I see. You might be right, yeah.

I met Pol two years ago.

- Hey, these look good.
- Thanks.

Cool. Did you make them?

If I remember correctly,
he was then the same age I am now,

- but he looked way older.
- Okay.

- I'm Pol.
- Zabo.

Pol gave me his e-mail address
so we could chat.

He recommended bands to me
and took me to concerts.

We became close friends.
We would tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

No way, man! You've got to be kidding me.
Where did you find it?

KURT COBAIN, A SHOOTING STAR

- Do you like it?
- I love it!

- Otherwise, I'll keep it.
- Thanks!

You rule, man. Thank you.

- Check it out.
- I can't believe it!

Pol killed himself on 31st December.

I found out about it a week later.

PRETENDING IS THE WORST CRIME

Because of the Cromañón fire,
I didn't notice he wasn't around much.

Teenager. What is a teenager?

Adults at home, on TV and at school
are constantly referring to us

as if we were
some sort of bloodsucking monsters

that appreciate nothing,

respect no authority,

only think
of fucking anything that moves

and take any drug we can get.

NEW POST

In other words, being a teenager is bad.

Every teenager is, or should be, a punk.

We're raw urgency in the flesh.
We don't think much about the future.

At least not about that kind of future

in which you have a house,
a family, a dog, a car...

I'd rather kill myself
than have such a prefab future.

I turned 16 yesterday. It may sound silly,
but I'm feeling down already.

Every day I'm wasting
the age I've always wanted to be.

I'm going to write

so maybe someone will relate to what I say
and know they're not alone.

ALONE

Although I should admit
I'm the one trying to feel less alone.

Somewhere, someone has to be
going through the same as me.

TITLE OF THE BLOG
I, TEENAGER

SAVE DRAFT - POST

According to my ID,
I'm Nicolás Martín Zamorano.

But you can call me Zabo.

I got that nickname
after stupid event at elementary school,

- but I don't want to talk about that.
- Nico, breakfast's ready!

I might tell you about it later.

I'm late, mom.

Nicolás Martín Zamorano, sit down here
and have the breakfast I made for you!

You should listen to your mother.

Nicolás!

I live in Parque Chacabuco,

a neighborhood I like to call
"Parque Chacabuco City Rockers."

It's located between two very busy areas,
but it's a bit more quiet.

It's quite gray.

When I was little,
kids used to play soccer in the street,

like in the stories my dad used to tell me
about his childhood.

As for my education, I've just started
my fourth year of high school.

I was sentenced to study
construction in a technical high school,

and that's the worst thing
that could have happened to me.

I find it very hard to make friends.

Well, I have admit that my appearance,
which could be classified as "rustic",

tends to repel people.

People think I'll bite them,
but I don't bite. I just bark.

I bark a lot, and I bark loudly.

But that's all.

Despite that, I have a group of friends.

There's Lucho, aka Sealed Lips,
because he rarely speaks,

Camila, who seems quiet but kicks asses
when bothered at a nightclub,

Checho, occasional shrink and dealer,

and my best friend at high school, Tomás.

If it wasn't because he's two years older
than me and flunked a couple of years,

I'd say we were cast in the same mold.

High school equals gossip.

Before, the weirdest thing
that could happen

was someone we know
getting an abortion.

So close, right?

This year's gossip is way more shocking.

Abel was there, but he got out.

If this one hadn't been at the beach
with his dad, he'd had been there.

Did you hear about Johana's friends?

Yeah.

What about you? How are you?

Fine. Why should I be down?

Because a friend of yours
killed himself this summer, moron.

Apparently, we weren't that close.

They should tell me what to say
to put their worries to rest.

That's what this is all about,

making them feel
they played their part on time.

Unlike me, who didn't even notice
Pol was missing that day.

I'd better tell you
how lucky I am in the love department.

The girl I dedicate my songs, my yanks
and my everything to, is called María.

She's my best friend.
Yes, I'm one of those guys.

Her eyes...
I don't know how to explain it.

When she looks at you in the eyes
and tells you a story,

you can't help but pay attention.

She's self-assured, straightforward,
and extroverted.

And the most important thing
is that we share the same taste in music.

- "Dulce de leche" for the lady.
- Thanks. And lemon.

- Yes, lemon and strawberry, as usual.
- Oh, okay.

- You got lemon and strawberry.
- And that's why I'm still the same.

Well, me too.

Honesty, I'm not trying to pick a fight,

but I can't believe
you always choose that flavor.

- What do you care?
- I don't, but they should give it away.

- Why?
- Because it's awful.

Shut up! You're so annoying!

Strawberry and lemon are awfully boring,
and I don't say a thing about it, Zabo.

María can make me do whatever she wants,

even climb a tree...

Are you serious about this?

- although I'm afraid of heights.
- If you dare...

Of course I do!

- I don't think it's necessary.
- But that's what we came to do.

- Right.
- Right.

- Okay, I'll climb.
- Okay.

- Right.
- Okay.

- Excuse me.
- Yes.

- You haven't climbed that much, Zabo.
- Okay, I'll go up there.

Okay.

I can't believe you're making me do this.

Come on, shout from up there.

- I'm going to fall.
- No, Zabo, you're okay.

How will I get down?

- Let's see...
- Shall I jump?

Yes. But not on top of me, be careful.

But María has a boyfriend.

We broke up.

Congratulations?

Zabo, you can't just disappear
because I have a boyfriend, you moron.

I think you are the one
who disappeared because your boyfriend

asked you not to spend
so much time with me.

I've just broken up with him.
Will you tell me off or be my best friend?

A bit of this, a bit of that.

Are you okay?

Yes.

No.

Are you or aren't you?

I'm, and I'm not. I don't know.

It just happened.
I'll know how I feel about it later.

Like it happened with you, you know?

- With me?
- Yeah.

When we started seeing each other less...

I didn't realize immediately
I was missing something.

Right now I don't miss him,
I think he's an asshole.

We'll see later on.

Yeah, we'll see.

- What were you listening to?
- The demos from Árbol's latest album.

- Someone uploaded them to Ares.
- Give me that.

- Wait.
- Leave that one to me.

Wait, it's my turn to choose.

During the summer,
I try to go to every concert I can.

But, after the Cromañón fire,
many venues were closed down.

There was almost nowhere to go.

Fran got a PlayStation 2 for Christmas.

This is the most fun we had
this summer.

She has just broken up with that jerk,
but she came to me already.

I think she wants him
to find out, so he'll get mad.

And what's wrong with that?

She'd be using me. That's wrong.

Let her use you, you idiot.

Anyway, I think that girl is just
a figment of your imagination, Zabo.

Shut up, you moron!

- You'll meet her on Saturday. You'll see.
- Where?

I'll organize a party at the shed.
Another party.

Last time was too chaotic.

Do you think Arnaldo
will let you use it again?

For the right amount of money, yes.

Where will you get it from?

I asked the guys
to collect money at school.

Oh, you
and your Beverly Hills 90210 friends!

Your rich friends!

Can't you just be serious
for a minute, man?

- There you go. Bye!
- No!

You're dead.

The shed is an abandoned building
behind the park.

There's a guard there...

- Okay, listen.
- Arnaldo.

Will you behave?

His job is to keep squatters away.

Have we ever misbehaved?

SECURITY

Why don't you go to a nightclub
out of the city, like everyone else?

Because they charge you
based on your looks, Arnaldo.

With this pretty face,
I can enter anywhere for free,

but my friends...

Give me that.

Fifty.

Arnaldo opened up the doors
to a world we could have never imagined.

No!

At first, we used the shed
to skate and hang out.

Lucho's the only one who skates.

- So, what about María?
- I haven't seen her in a while.

Then he let us rent it
to gather before going out.

Here, hand it to him. Give him a prize.

Come on.

Okay, wait, let's play a game.

Eventually,
those gatherings became small parties.

Go ahead.

The first time,
30 people came, and it was fun.

The next month, since those 30 people
had had such a good time,

they brought some friends.
We ended up being 70 people.

The third time,
we posted the address on Fotolog.

A lot of people came and it was a mess.

Everyone wanted to go to the shed.

It became a refuge for minors
who couldn't get into nightclubs.

I became know as "the shed guy".

And I had a motto:

"What happens in the shed
stays in the shed."

Yeah, it was my little Tijuana.

To get Arnaldo to let us use it again,

we had to swear
we wouldn't be that many people...

- Here.
- and give him a lot more money.

The rent got a bit pricey. What happened?

- "A bit pricey"?
- A bit pricey, yes.

After the mess you made the last time,
it's actually cheap.

- No.
- Did you forget about that?

It wasn't that bad. No.

This is my insurance
in case I get sacked because of you.

- Are we clear?
- Yes.

- Okay.
- Okay.

I can't do it!

Now!

Bravo!

Who invited the hippies?

I don't know. What worries me the most
is who invited Ramiro.

Hi. What's, bro? Everything cool?

- How are you, man?
- How are you?

- He left me...
- No, it's okay. How are you?

Hey, you took your nose piercing off.
You look better now.

Yeah... You look different too.
You changed your look.

- No, I didn't.
- You didn't?

Wait, you got that horrible wart removed,
the one you had on your face!

- Come on, shut up!
- You did!

You can push Ramiro around
and he'll always answer you with a smile.

- say hi to the guys and...
- He's the perfect guy.

Everything about him makes me feel
the worst guy the world.

- Great party, man.
- Thanks.

- How are you? Fine?
- Fine.

Hey, it's a cool party!

Considering you organized it
with your schoolmates...

Did I surprise you?

- It's actually good!
- There she is.

See? She's real.

- She does exist.
- What a cute girl.

- Hi.
- Hi! Let me introduce you two.

- María, this is Fran.
- Hi. What's up?

- Hi. I'm Fran.
- Fran, this is María.

- How are you?
- How are you?

Unlike Pol, my friends didn't know María.

I didn't want to share her with anyone.

Okay, that sounded a bit psycho.

I'll tell you
something very important first.

What do you need
for a party to be a real party?

- What? Tell us.
- Drugs? No.

Women? Maybe. But what's most important
is that Zabo's there.

- Thank you.
- Yeah, right, shut up.

- Listen.
- Yeah.

I'll go for a pee. Hold this for me.

- That toilet is disgusting, Zabo.
- I'm not going to the toilet.

Excuse me.

Hey!

- Are you okay?
- I'm fine, and you?

- Fine.
- What's up?

- I'm fine.
- Oh, is it me or did he steal your girl?

- I don't want to talk about it.
- You don't want to?

It's against the rules.
I can't stand seeing you like this!

"Like this", how? I'm fine.

- You're fine then?
- I'm great.

Okay. Let's do something we both enjoy,

- that makes us feel good.
- No.

We can't kick his ass
until ends up in a coma.

- I'd love to, but I can't.
- What?

I have to think of Moni. She's a widow.

I can't kill her son.
It would be too much.

Can you imagine if we kicked his ass?

Besides, what would we do with the body?
I mean, where would you dispose of it?

You could survive jail, you're a badass.
I'd end up dead in a day. Forget about it.

Okay, enough,
let's stop talking about that moron.

I came to mix myself a Fernet and Coke
it was you who mentioned him.

Okay, then.You know what?
Let's do something.

- Something like what?
- We'll leave the bar,

and we'll dance
until we run out of neurons,

- or until everyone's gone.
- Okay.

- Okay, shall I go first?
- Come on, you go first.

- I'll go first.
- Come on, let's go.

For the rest of the party,

I just drank anything that could help me
pretend I hadn't died that night.

I was the life and soul of the party.

Nobody would have thought
I didn't want to be there.

I did what I do best.
I pretended I was having a good time.

I pretended I was at ease.

I pretended I was not in love with her.

Pretending.

Do you remember the picture Pol gave me?

The Kurt Cobain one
with that headline on it?

"Pretending is the worst crime."

I deserve a file sentence.

You should make a list...

of the things
that your ideal person has to have.

Like a shopping list?

- Yeah, like a shopping list.
- What for?

How can I explain it to you?

Being in love...

is like being really high.

I mean, you feel dumb as fuck...

but if you're with the right person,
you don't have a bad trip.

Did you know you make
stupid comparisons when you're drunk?

- No, I mean it.
- Don't be a moron. You know what I mean.

- No, because María is my ideal person.
- No, she's not.

- Yes, she is.
- No, she's not!

- Yes, she is.
- She's not, I'm telling you.

María and you
are one and the same person.

- That's why she's ideal.
- No, no way.

Believe me, if María had liked you back...

- you'd have got bored.
- Oh, so I'm boring!

- I'm not saying that, Zabo!
- You just did!

If María and I
are one and the same person,

and I had got bored of her
after being together,

- technically, I'd be boring too.
- Focus!

- Focus, Zabo.
- "Focus, Zabo."

That's it.

What I mean is...

your ideal person...

makes you do things
you wouldn't do for anyone else.

What I'm saying is...

love...

is everything...

but boredom.

Do you get me?

I do.

I'll tell you what my favorite love song
is if you tell me yours.

You don't need to ask me
about my favorite song to tell me yours.

Man, you're such a party pooper!

I don't have a favorite love song.
I don't get them.

They remind me of that shitty music
my sister listens to.

You've obviously never made out
with someone

at a Boom Boom Kid concert
while listening to "Pei pa koa."

I hate people who make out at concerts.

One, we must share
the same taste in music.

Two, she must like going out at night
to concerts, pubs, house parties...

not to nightclubs.

Three, she must have
her own fashion style.

Four, she must laugh at my jokes,
even the bad ones.

Five, she mustn't feel uncomfortable
being in silence.

Six, she mustn't have a temper.
It's enough with mine.

Seven, she must have gone through stuff.

No.

She must have gone through stuff
she wasn't supposed to,

stuff that made her stronger.

But she must have kept
some of her innocence.

Done.

What is done?

- The list.
- Oh. So?

Who's the lucky one?

No one, apparently.
All the girls lack something.

- What about María?
- No, not even her.

Okay.

You'll find someone eventually.
There is someone for everybody, right?

Now make room, I'm in a hugging mood.

If you get a boner in your sleep,
I'll kick your ass.

Don't be an asshole!
I won't get a boner, you moron!

Even though you'd love that, huh?

Jesus fucking Christ.

I know who has everything on my list.

Repeat after me:
"My ideal girl can't be a guy."

"My ideal girl can't be a guy."

"My ideal girl can't be a guy."

"My ideal girl can't be a guy."

"My ideal girl can't be a guy."

Pol would know what to say to me.

Besides, he was gay.

Twice as useful.

Since Pol's not here...

Augustín is a friend
from elementary school.

We used to jerk off
to his dad's porn magazines.

One day,
he told me he was in love with me.

I didn't love him back,

so, to avoid any trouble,
I introduced him to Pol.

They went out a couple of times,
but then remained friends.

Is it me or are you even gayer
than the last time I saw you?

That's how your dad likes it.

Our relationship
was never the same after that.

And I don't blame him.

Did you go to the cemetery?

No. Did you?

No, me neither. Is that wrong?

Killing yourself is wrong.

Yeah.

My last conversations
with Pol were quite dark.

Mine too.

He asked me
how I imagined Heaven was like.

Yeah, he asked me that too.

What did you say?

That I didn't care
because we fags don't go to Heaven.

He told me that, in his opinion,
Heaven should be like a music festival

where all his favorite artists played.

Can you imagine that?
Could it be like that?

- But you didn't call me to talk about Pol.
- No.

I called you to talk about you.

I mean, not about you, but about...

what you are.

What am I? Cute, smart, a good guy?

No. A homo.

Let's say that, hypothetically,
I like a guy. Don't laugh at me.

Does that make me gay?

Let's see...

- Does this guy turn you on?
- No!

- Hypothetically speaking.
- No!

- That's hypothetically gross.
- Then no.

You don't like guys,

you just feel something for this guy.
It's not the same.

Okay, so what do I do?

- Hypothetically speaking?
- Hypothetically speaking.

You have two options.

The first one is to go
and talk to him, and see what happens.

Maybe you're in luck
and he's as confused as you are.

What if he isn't?

You won't be friends anymore.

Look at what happened to us.

Okay, you said I have two options.

The other one is to make a test.

A test?

Well, you still don't know

if you like guys
or just the guy in particular.

I'd say you should kook up with a guy...

and see what happens.

If you don't enjoy it,
there's your answer.

What if I do enjoy it?

I'll have to welcome you
to the the pink side of the Force.

Sorry for ghosting you.

It's okay.

- As long as it doesn't happen again.
- No.

Especially now that I need to know
how this soap opera will end.

Hypothetical soap opera.

- Very hypothetical.
- So very hypothetical.

...about the assignment.

he had to answer questions one to three.

- No.
- You didn't do it? Really? You morons...

Hey, I called you a thousand times
this weekend, what's wrong?

Did something happen to you?

"Something?"

You were feeling down
about Fran and María.

There's already been a suicide,
so if I don't answer my phone,

it's because
I've probably killed myself too?

How about you stop answering me
with another question? Just answer me.

Are you or aren't you okay?

I'm great.

Great.
Next time, answer the phone. Okay?

The first option Agustín gave me
is out of the question.

One afternoon,
Pol pretended to be a student at my school

so he could get in
and tell me an idea of his.

Which is the highest place we can go?

- I don't know. My rooftop?
- Let's go.

Where are you going?

Where's the ladder?

There, calm down.

You took the sandwiches with you.

- Come on, climb up.
- You took the sandwiches.

- Come on.
- Are you kidding me?

Get up here.

Look at the view from up here.

- Is that why we're going up there?
- Yes.

Pol wanted me
to overcome my fear of heights,

so we could ride
a roller coaster together.

There's no need to get so high!

I'd get mad at Pol because he could see
the whole neighborhood from up there.

Get up here or you'll lose your snack.
Get up here, you moron.

Now he can see it all.

JULY 22ND, 2005

Winter holidays are over.

I have to take the exams
I didn't prepare for back in March,

and see my schoolmates again.

And Tomás.

I've been avoiding him.

I've been trying to have
as little contact with him as possible.

Yeah!Good job, Zabo! Hooray!

- Very good!
- Ramiro, thanks for your answers.

I promise I won't mock you again.

- Wait, you used to mock me?
- No.

It's water under the bridge.
Forget about it.

What matters is that I owe you.

You would have done
the same for me, right?

Sure, but we both
would have failed the exam.

That's true.

"Good morning", right?
We didn't sleep together last night.

You wish.

You didn't take the exam. What's wrong?

Something wrong with you.

There's nothing wrong with me, Tomás.

When you stop beating around the bush
and tell me what's wrong with you,

I'll tell you
why I didn't take the exam. Okay?

- Go to your seat, you moron.
- Fuck off.

He was right.
I'd have loved to sleep with him.

- Did you pass?
- I miss him all the time.

- Cool!
- I got a B.

I have already lost Pol, Fran and María.

They abandoned me, but I survived.

Of course I can survive without Tomás.

Ramiro took on the task of entertaining me
without anyone asking him to do so.

He's not trying to take Tomás's place,

but he's determined to be
my new best friend.

You shouldn't overthink everything.

- Why not?
- You just shouldn't.

Look at your mom.

She thought she'd be married forever,
and now...

But don't you have
any plans for the future?

No. I think I'll die young.

- Come on, don't be an idiot.
- I mean it. I have that certainty.

That may be why
I don't give a fuck about the future.

Nicolás...

I hereby forbid you to die.

I have blessed you.

I told something like that to Pol once.

And look how he ended up.

It's no use worrying
about stuff we can't control.

But it's useful
to try to control what we can.

I never thought I'd get along so well
with a guy like him.

To me, he's the perfect guy.

Finish it off.

Everything I'm in front of him,
I hear inside my head...

You're so silly.

I don't get why
you want to die young so badly.

I didn't say that.

I said... that I have the feeling
I'll just die young

because I hear a voice inside my head
saying, "There's no time."

All day long.

That's why I wanted
to start writing this year.

You should start telling your secrets...

to your friends,
to the real people who are around you,

instead of writing it
in that sissy diary of yours.

It's not a diary, you moron.

Are we going to Camila's?

- Shall pick you up with my car?
- Do you have a car?

- Well, it's my dad's.
- Do you have a driver's license?

Do you want me
to pick you up or not, you moron?

Okay.

What did you do, asshole?

- Hey! Are you nuts?
- I just went for the ball.

"I just went for the ball"?

I've suspended students
for much less than that.

Fine, suspend me.

Ramiro, you'd better go get changed
and lose that attitude.

That's all for today, class dismissed.
Go to the locker room, come on.

It can't be because of that fucking model
that he didn't submit.

Ramiro passed anyway.

It has nothing to do with school.

Did you see Ramiro's face, man?

He didn't even turn
to see if Zabo was fine.

It must be something worse.

- Bye, guys, have a good weekend.
- Bye.

Bye.

Hey! What's up?

What's wrong with you?

Hey, you! Hey!

Why don't you tell them
what they want to know?

Okay, I jumped ahead in the story.

Tell them what happened between us.

What happened between us?

Everything.

- It all started at Camila's party.
- If you want to go in...

This is the first time Tomás and I
will meet outside the school.

Since we got back to school,
I've been trying to avoid him,

so I wouldn't get drunk
and end up saying bullshit.

- How are you?
- Fine, and you?

Fine. What took you so long?

We couldn't find a parking spot, so...

- Again, Ramiro?
- Again.

Come in.

I'll get drunk enough to swallow my ego
and apologize to Tomás.

Hopefully,
he'll be high enough to forgive me.

- Hello, how are you?
- What's up, Zabo?

- Everything cool.
- Great.

- Can I have a drag?
- Here.

Get off me!

Hello!
Nice shirt, did you dress up for me?

- I borrowed it from Ramiro.
- Oh, your new friend?

- We've been schoolmates for four years.
- Okay.

Will you dance with him or with me?

It depends on who takes the male role.

I'm clearly the male. I'm taller than you.

- You're not funny.
- Aren’t' going to greet me properly?

- What's up, my friend?
- What's up?

I'm fine.

Just look at that moron.

What am I, his chauffeur?

- What's up, bro?
- Get off me!

- Are you a toddler?
- Yes.

When you have a problem,
come and talk to me.

You don't need new friends.

Yeah.

Who's that?

- Florencia?
- Yeah.

- What?
- She's cute.

She's quite a tease.

I'd like to see her turn you down
so I can have a laugh.

- Is that a bet?
- I don't know. Take it as you want.

I'll be right back.

I'll be right back.

You like the Ramones.

Wow, you're so perceptive.

- Do you have "Loco Live"?
- Yeah.

I bought it at Parque Rivadavia.

Can I borrow it to make a copy?

I wanted to download it, but it always
gets stalled, it takes forever.

- Lend it to me.
- I don't know you, girl!

Geez, what a temper.

What are you doing?

This party is dead, I'm off.

But give me a call so you can lend me
that record, grumpy boy.

- Okay.
- I'm spent.

- I have a lot to study.
- Okay.

- Your place is lovely.
- Thanks.

- We'll come back soon!
- See you.

I mean, has this always been this yummy?

I have a cookie stuck in my palate.

Guys.

- Have you seen Tomi?
- I think he's upstairs.

No.

- Put some of that on it, it's yummy.
- Okay.

- Give me some.
- Wait.

- Come on.
- Here.

Sorry to interrupt you.

Have you seen Ramiro?

Ramiro is... he's outside.

He's smashed. He's arguing with Lucho
because he wants to drive home.

Why didn't you take his keys?

Because the idiot hid them in his pants.

Okay.

Let me go, asshole.
Come on, what's your problem?

- Lucho, leave it.
- Come here. Come on.

It's okay. I'll deal with him.

- Wuss!
- No, leave it.

Come on!

Come here! Come!

Go ahead, get in the car.

- Will you really let me get in?
- Yeah.

I want to see you ruin
that perfect future you always brag about.

- Come on, get in.
- You're a fucking asshole.

And you're a moron.

I wasn't going to get in.
I just wanted that asshole to ask nicely!

- Nobody bosses me around!
- Don't scream. It's 8:00 a.m.

I'm tired. I want to go home.

Let's go find a taxi, I'll take you home,

then you'll wait for my bus with me
and I'll go home.

Happy?

I'm not waiting for your bus, asshole!

You don't weigh 45 pounds.

No, I weigh 200 pounds.

Hey.

- You seem nervous. Are you okay?
- Fuck off!

Hey, Nico.

Listen, I'm going to kiss you now, okay?

I beg you, please don't...

don't... don't make an ugly face.

Don't run away or anything.
Just go with the flow.

- My bus is coming.
- Just go with the flow.

- Come on, asshole.
- Sorry, I can't.

Why not?

One, please.

You startled me, man!

What's up?

You need to speak, Lucho.
I can't read minds yet.

I don't know
if you're naive or just stupid.

What did I do?

- Tina.
- Who?

The girl who asked you
for the record at the party.

- Right. What about her?
- She's been asking about you.

So? What's the big deal?

Well, a record can be easily downloaded
from the Internet.

So?

It's not about the record, you moron.
She wants you to call her.

Do you think so?

Are you virgin?

Are you being funny now?

Besides, I don't have her number.

- I do.
- Really?

Yeah, but you owe me one.

Speaking of that,
somebody owes me a talk. Thanks.

- What's the problem?
- What am I supposed to do?

- About what?
- About your feelings for me.

What feelings, asshole?

You tried to kiss me
at the bus stop, Ramiro.

What, Nicolás? Were you drunker than me?

You just imagined things. What?

No way.

Good, because you would be
the second guy that falls for me,

and that, statistically speaking,
would push me to become a fag.

Look, man,

if I were to fall for a guy,
I'd fall for a pretty one.

Not a rat-faced guy like you.

- Oh, you're so funny!
- Come on, man, let's go.

Hello?

Hello, this is Zabo, Lucho's friend.

- You asked me for a record.
- Oh, the grumpy Ramones fan.

Yeah, I'm calling about the record.
I have it right here.

Well, it took you a while to call.
What happened?

I have an explanation,
but it's not very rational.

- Why?
- It involves UFOs.

You silly! What are you doing right now?

Nothing. Why?

Anyway, it's hard to be independent.

I work in a bookstore café
in the Palermo area.

The pay's not that good.

But I don't want to ask my dad for money,
you know?

Some tourists are big tippers, though.

Forget about the locals,
they're so stingy.

I spend the rest of my time
taking care of my nephew

- and studying literature.
- Literature?

Yes, at the University of Buenos Aires.

I'd love to be a writer.

To be able to put everything that's
in my head, every thought, into words.

But every time I try, I get frustrated,

I don't like what I write... I'm a mess.

Do you have a girlfriend?

I wouldn't say no.

Do you or don't have one?

- Does my hand count as a girlfriend?
- Gross!

You're silly!

I've been with Mateo for a year.
A year and a half.

He's older than me.
He's about to graduate from film school.

But, honestly, I never imagined
I'd be with someone for so long.

Never.

Beside, we fight all the time.

And this Mateo guy...

where is he now?

In the countryside,
he's working on a movie.

He'll be back in a week.

What does he think about you
inviting strangers to your house?

Nothing, because he doesn't know about it.

Besides, you're not a stranger.
You're the grumpy Ramones fan, remember?

Okay.

You can give me the record back later.
If you want, we can go to a show.

- Can I ask you something?
- Yes.

- What's your real name?
- Nicolás.

But nobody calls me that.

Well, somebody does call me that.
I mean, he used to. It doesn't matter.

But Nicolás is a nice name.
It's nicer than Zabo.

- Bye, Nico.
- Bye.

- Hey!
- Man, you startled me!

What's up, man?
If I don't run into you by chance,

- we never meet outside the school anymore.
- Can you stop doing that?

- Why? Are you getting hard?
- Get off me!

You already have a girlfriend to hug.

- Look, Nicolás...
- I'm Zabo. Don't call me "Nicolás."

Your sound like my mom
when she tells me off!

I am telling you off.
What's going on with you?

I thought that, after Camila's party,
everything was cool.

Everything is cool.

- "Cool", right? Okay, it's cool.
- Yes.

Well, keep telling that to yourself
until you believe it.

- Hello.
- Why weren't you picking up?

My phone was at the bottom of my backpack.

Oh, right.

What are you doing tonight?

I have my father's house to myself.
Do you want to hang out?

Okay.

- These buds are great, man.
- They're great, aren't they?

They have a citric aftertaste.

One drag and it goes straight
to the brain, dude.

Hey, I have never seen these drawings.

I did most of them high.

I lied to you.

- About what?
- About everything.

Now you're just like Lucho.

I have to pull
every single word out of him.

I do remember Saturday morning, okay?

I'm not an idiot.

I don't know, I had too much to drink and...

Anyway...

I have the whole situation engraved
on my mind, I don't know.

You getting on the bus...

Me...

standing at the bus stop, confused.

Sorry.

And...

there's something I can't get off my mind.

What is it?

The way you looked at me.

How did I look at you?

As if you also wanted it, Nicolás.

Fuck off, Ramiro.
Don't project that onto me.

- Come on...
- Don't touch me, you fucking faggot!

Wait, Nico!

No, I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean that.

- I'm sorry, that was so out of place.
- I'm sorry.

It's just that... I don't know
what's happening to me, I don't get it.

I don't want to upset you.
I swear I don't...

I swear I don't...

Sorry, I don't want to be weird.

I'm weird, I don't know what...

I'm sorry.

The bus can't save you this time,
you know?

So, do I like guys? Or do I like Ramiro?

And Tomás.

And Tina.

I'm so sorry!

Sorry, I was with my nephew, I'm so late.

Relax, it's not a big deal.

I've seen Boom Boom Kid live
a thousand times, don't worry.

- Did you wait for long?
- Almost 17 years.

I wasn't that late.

- Now I get it.
- What?

Why every band has a love song.

Making out at a concert is great.

- You never made out at a concert?
- Shut up.

Shall we go?
The concert is about to end anyway.

- Your place or mine?
- Mmm, mine.

Great, mine was not an option,
I was just pretending it was.

- Okay, let's go to my place then.
- Okay.

The first time we fucked was great.
I didn't mind she was in a relationship.

The second time was awesome,

and I understood I had to live
with the thought of sharing her.

I'll see you tomorrow, then.

I can't see you tomorrow, Nico.

Mateo's coming back from the countryside,
remember?

- Okay. We'll talk, then.
- Okay, bye.

Bye.

By the third time,
her boyfriend became a real person,

and then I realized
I wanted Tina all for myself.

I tried to pay more attention to Ramiro.
"Tried" is the keyword here.

With him, I remembered how good
I was at hide and seek when I was little.

Any place was good to escape
from the boredom of school.

I couldn't get my hands off him.

It was like when you have
a new T-shirt you love

and you want to wear it all the time.

Everything was fun.

I love you.

Until it wasn't anymore.

Shouldn't we go back to class?

No.

At least this time I didn't say,
"Sorry, I can't."

With Tina, I feel so many things.

I can spend many hours with her
and it never gets weird nor boring.

Ramiro is like borrowing a hand
to jerk off.

I only want to be with him
when I'm horny or when I feel alone.

Would you lend me your notes
from the installations class

so I can photocopy them?

I already failed that subject, so...

My notes are all yours.

Consider it a gift.

Stop drinking that, Nicolás,
you'll get sick!

- Do you think so?
- Come on, Nicolás!

Leave that! You'll give yourself an ulcer.

If you had remember to buy
what you had to buy,

we wouldn't be improvising with this shit.

You're annoying.

I love you.

I'm telling you I love you, asshole.

- Heard you!
- So?

Thanks.

No.

What is this for you?

I don't know, I try not to think much
so I can enjoy it.

Otherwise, I'd be constantly obsessing
about it like you do.

But this is important to me.
You are important to me.

And you are important to me.

- So?
- "So" what"?

Nothing. Forget about it.

You can't expect me to feel the same way
you do, and at the same time as you.

I never asked you to fall for me.

You can't demand love
like I owe you something.

It doesn't work that way.

Are we clear?

- You're so cute when you're angry.
- Are you kidding me? I'm going home.

Come on, Nico.

Hey! What's up?

What are you doing?

- I'm jerking you off.
- Wait, someone could see us.

- Do you like it with both hands?
- Stop it, man.

- You're hurting my dick, dude!
- Don't you want me to lend you a hand?

That's what you wrote
on your fucking diary, asshole.

Am I not a hand to borrow?
Isn't that what I am to you?

Again, Javi!

Come on, put some effort into it!

Good!

- You hit me!
- Good!

Zamorano!

What are you doing?

Do you want to pass this subject? Go in.

Come on, get in!

Kick off at the center.

Vera!

- What was that? Are you nuts?
- I just went for the ball.

"I just went for the ball"?

I've suspended students
for much less than that.

Fine, suspend me.

And now you get
why I said everything had happened.

I just play. That's the only thing
I've been doing lately.

- Call me, will you?
- Yes, of course.

- Will you?
- I always call you.

- Bye.
- Bye.

I've been playing hide and seek with Tina

since Mateo isn't busy filming anything.

- What are you doing out there?
- Hey. What's up?

I play the cold shoulder game with Ramiro,

who hasn't spoken to me
since that gym class.

And Tomás...

Well, with him, I just play make-believe

pretending I don't care
he's Florencia's boyfriend now.

- How are you?
- What's up?

And I think I'm winning.

You know how the saying goes...

"Lucky at cards...

Zabo in love."

Come over, Mateo will have an early dinner
with his brother, whom I don't like.

We'll have a couple of hours to ourselves.

- Hi.
- Hello.

- Who are you looking for?
- Zabo.

- You're in the wrong house, man.
- No, I am Zabo. I'm a friend of Tina's.

Oh, come in, she's taking a shower.

- Excuse me.
- Sure.

Tina usually takes long showers, so...

- Would you like some maté?
- No. Thanks.

Will you have dinner with Tina?

Yes. I need to see her.

- Why?
- I'm having problems with my boyfriend.

She gives the best advice.

You're on time.

- You never on time.
- It seems I am today.

Honey, I was thinking, your friend here

told me he's having problems
with his boyfriend.

Maybe I could introduce him to my brother.

We could go on a double date.

I'm seeing him today,
I'll check if he's still single.

I can't make any promises.

Yeah, they'd make a lovely couple.

Two sourpusses.

Well, I'd better get going,
I'll leave you alone to chat.

- Zebo, it was a pleasure.
- It's "Zabo".

- What?
- It's "Zabo".

- With an A.
- Zabo, sorry.

Bye.

Okay, that was awkward.

I hate you, did you know that?

- Why? What did I do?
- You made me meet Mateo.

Now he's a real person,
and he even seems to be a nice guy.

Really? Then go have sex with him, "Zebo".

- Oh, are you funny now?
- You're the one who has a boyfriend now.

- Shut up!
- What's up with that?

I shouldn't worry
because you're on the pill, right?

Yes, I've already told you that.

Okay.

I'm all for safe sex, but truth be told,
I don't how much about female things.

- Our "things"?
- Yeah.

Your school's so expensive,
don't you have sex education classes?

No.

- Does it show?
- Yeah!

I'd love it if Mateo didn't come back.

Or if he wanted to break up with me.

I've tried, I swear.

But he looks at me with that...

moron-in-love face,
and I really can't. It's so hard.

Relax. Take your time.

I can wait.

What do you mean?

I don't mind waiting until my time comes.

Your time?

- What did I do?
- Nothing. It's my fault.

- I don't get it.
- No, you don't, because you're young.

Now you care about my age?

- How do you feel about me, Nicolás?
- "Nicolás"?

- Who are you, my mom?
- I asked you a question.

My feeling are my business.

See? There's where you age shows.

You take anything I do or say
and get your hopes up

about something
that's not going to happen.

So, it is my business too.

How do you feel about me?

Wait!

If you're in love with me
or something like that, don't say it.

Lie to me. Don't say it,
because I don't want to stop seeing you.

I like spending time with you.

I'm sorry, Tina...

but I don't just spend time with you.

It's exactly the opposite, in fact.

Every time you open that door,
my world stops.

It's the corniest thing I've ever said,
but also the truest.

I don't want to pretend otherwise.

You have to leave, then.

Yeah, I know.

We'll always have
the Boom Boom Kid concerts.

- Hello.
- Wow! I missed your voice.

- Nico?
- Yes, it's me.

- Don't hang up, okay?
- What do you want?

I wanted to know how you're doing,

and if you'd like to hang out with me.

What happened? Did that girl dump you?

You're such a piece of shit, man.

No, I'm not calling you
because I broke up with Tina, you dumb.

I'll just quote a contemporary writer,
maybe it rings a bell.

"I only want to be with him
when I'm horny or when I feel alone."

Does it ring a bell, asshole?

Will you hold a grudge forever
for something stupid I wrote once?

You know what? Yeah, I will.

Bye, Zabo.

It's the first time
he doesn't call me "Nico".

It broke my heart a little.

I was left alone.

My relationships were so brief
that I didn't even get to brag about them.

Will you tell me what happened?

Pol's brother called me yesterday.

He said he got into Pol's computer
and found a folder full of text files.

Some texts are complete, and some...

are just incomplete essays and such.

He wrote about you, us,
his family and himself in them.

Here. He wrote a lot about you.

I don't care.
I won't gain anything by reading that.

- Come on, Zabo.
- I don't want them. I won't read them.

Read them and call me when you're ready.

Nico, the drugstore's about to close,
and I'm cooking.

Would you please go get my pills?

- What are you cooking?
- Schnitzels.

- With mashed potatoes or fries?
- With rice.

Put some cheese on them
and we'll have a deal.

I don't negotiate with terrorists!

Well, you can some linden tea, then.
I mean, if you don't have your pills...

Okay, buy some cheese on your way back.

Does anyone like December?

What I mean is...
there might be another Pol.

The other day, I read about how contagious
it can be. It's terrible.

Exams. End-of-year assessments.

Meeting people you don't like
during the holidays.

...as if you could say...

And this year is the first anniversary
of the Cromañón fire and Pol's death.

It's not that easy.

- What...?
- Life!

Checho, we lie to ourselves every day.

- Yeah.
- If we really cared about each other,

we wouldn't let a friend lie to us.

At the slightest suspicion, we'd grab them
by the arm, look at them in the eyes,

and tell them what's what.

- How are you.
- I won't smoke with you ever again, man.

You always give me bad trips.

- Hello?
- Hi, Nico.

- Tina?
- Yes. Wait, did you delete my number?

Yes, so I wouldn't call you when I'm drunk
and have your boyfriend pick it up.

Can you come over tomorrow?

- Is there something wrong?
- Yeah, but we'll talk tomorrow, okay?

I asked Santa for a new best friend
because the one I had got broken.

I'm joking. Happy New Year,
in case I don't see you then.

I love you.

Why are you here, Nico? I told you
to come tomorrow. You have to leave!

- You got me worried. What happened?
- No, just leave!

Zebo!

- What a surprise!
- I don't get it.

Okay, come in, both of you.

Come in!

I'll say it at once, then.

I didn't mean to scare you.

Well, at first...

I wanted to be sure
that I wasn't just late.

- But...
- I think this is...

a very sensitive subject.

Why is he here?

I'm pregnant.

- Don't say it.
- According to the dates,

either of you could be the father.

What will we do?

We can wait until the baby is born.

If it look like a cork, it's mine.
If it looks like a cotton swab, it's his.

- Do you know how you will get an abortion?
- I never said I'd get one.

It was too soon
for us to discuss it rationally.

We would meet again
after she consulted with the doctor.

...official boycott.

President Kirchner was furious
about the rise in Shell's fuel prices.

He said people shouldn't by anything
from the oil company,

and he stood by his view tonight,
in Misiones.

The government has been working
on a plan to prevent those rises.

The most wanted man was captured.

Hello, Nico.

- Hi, dad.
- Is everything alright?

Perfect.

- What happened to your eye, Nico?
- Nothing, mom.

- But you have a black eye, son.
- You should see the other guy.

Hoyos got 14 years.
The jury gave the lawyer

a longer sentence
than the DA had asked for...

Okay, I'll tell you, but don't judge me.

I think that...

What?

I got someone pregnant.

You did what?

I told you, I got someone pregnant.

I don't get it.

- Should I congratulate you?
- No.

- Are you happy?
- No, I'm not happy.

I don't know what I'll do, I...

I'll wait for now. I don't know.

I don't know what's happening to me.

You never know that anyway.

What an idiot!

- Are you going out with your friends?
- I think so.

- Thanks, mom.
- You're welcome.

- Do you want some?
- Just one.

DECEMBER 31ST, 2005

- Just one?
- Yes.

Today's the first anniversary
of Pol's death.

I think I'm reliving
exactly what happened back then,

but I've learned nothing at all.

Hello?

I think you should read today
the letters Pol left you.

We'll go to the cemetery on Monday.
It would be great if you came.

It would be great if we didn't have to go
to the cemetery at age 16.

Bye.

Get off that computer and come to dinner!

It's almost 12:00, we're about to toast!

I wasn't at the computer.

It doesn't matter. Sit down
and have dinner with your family.

- Do you want some, dear?
- Yes, but I don't want tomato.

Yeah.

After 12:00, I met up with the guys.

We spend hours passing around
the bottles we stole from our houses.

This beer is disgusting.

- Stop it.
- Now we were older...

- It's tasty.
- ...stronger...

- Give me a light.
- ...and less innocent.

That is my end-of-year assessment.

Come on!

It's time!

I'll be right back.

- What's up with him?
- He went to buy weed.

- That's so cool, man!
- It's a great night to smoke a joint.

- Thank you!
- listen, there's a friend of a friend,

a guy that comes by taxi,
gives you the package and leaves.

What?

- He leaves the package and leaves.
- Are you serious?

- No, man. You're joking, right?
- No.

- Okay, guys.
- So?

- That guy is the best, for real.
- What did he tell you?

He gave us some sugar cubes for free.

- Really?
- Acid!

- Open it.
- Let's start the year tripping!

Yeah, we have everything we need.
I can't believe this.

- I can't believe it.
- Let's see!

What's in it? Paper. More paper.

And some sugar.
He sold you real sugar cubes, you idiot.

How could you buy from someone
who comes by taxi?

Everybody know that scam.

- Checho!
- He spend a lot a money on those!

- Shut up, you idiot!
- Relax!

Calm down! It's happened to all of us!

But in our first year of high school!

Okay, it could happen to someone
in their fourth year...

of elementary school!

Hey, wait!

What, now am I going to be mocked
by the kid from Jumanji too?

Stop, don't leave, because...

If you leave
There'll be no one else

Who will make me feel like this

I am dying for love

Without you
I can't go on

Once again, from the top! One, two, three!

If you leave
There'll be no one else

Who will make me feel like this

I am dying for love

Without you
I can't go on

Come on.

- Cheers!
- Do those sugar cubes get you high?

Like every year,

we went on holiday to the beach
for ten days.

During those days, I tried to relax

and not think about what awaited me
back in Buenos Aires.

- Hello?
- Hi. I'm about to go to the gynecologist.

Have you made a decision?

No, not yet.

We'll do as you want.

Just tell me if you need anything.

- Thank you.
- Good luck with that.

I knelt before the clippings
and the posters

of all the musicians
that are pinned to my bedroom wall...

and I asked them
for something to go wrong,

for the doctor to tell her
that the pregnancy is not viable,

for her to have some bleeding,

for her to trip and fall, anything.

Can you imagine how awful I felt
for wishing such things?

No, you can't.

Everything upsets me.

- What's "everything"?
- Everything.

Life.

Are you made at life?

Something like that.

Be careful, then.

Why?

If you fight with life,
you make friends with death.

This summer, I spent more time
with my friends from school

than in any other summer.

My neurons are not working properly.

Camila's house became our headquarters.

Checho, Lucho and I
were practically living there.

I already want to vomit.

Tomás joined us
after he broke up with Florencia.

- Do you want some?
- Can I have a drag of your cigarette?

This is how you procure drugs, youngsters.

Through certified dealers
or authorized shops.

- I can't believe it, this is too much.
- No!

- No way! Give me a hug!
- No!

Well done, my friend.

- You clever bastard!
- So cool.

- Good morning, Snorlax.
- What time is it?

- It's 2:00 a.m.
- Yeah.

Did I sleep all day long?

At first, you wouldn't calm down,

and later we couldn't wake you up.

Do you remember anything?

- Where's Tomás?
- He's in the yard. He's acting weird.

What did you to him?

I've been looking for you.

Did I do or say anything yesterday?

You gave me a bit of a hard time,
but I'm already used to it. Don't worry.

If it's any consolation,
during the whole last year,

making people I love feel bad
is what I did best.

As long as you don't do it on purpose.

I'll stand by you.

I'll wait for you.

I'm your friend.

I know we will eventually recover
that friendship we once bad, I just...

I just need to find a way
for you to tell me what's wrong with you.

Do you want us to go through
a situation like Pol's again?

I don't want anything bad
to happen to you or anyone.

Relax.
Why would something bad happen to me?

Yesterday you said you won't kill yourself
because Pol beat you to it.

- You fucking idiot!
- That was a joke, moron!

- It was a joke!
- Yeah, right!

But there's some truth in every joke.
What if it's true?

Should I be waiting for that to happen?

I won't make my friends
go through the same thing,

if that's what's worrying you.

No.

What worries me is
that you use us and Pol as an excuse...

to stay here, to keep on breathing.

If you want to stay alive,

stay alive for yourself.

Not because we don't want you dead.

If I promise to start
telling you what happens to me...

do you promise me
you won't make me feel I'm a bad friend?

Tina, what's wrong? Are you okay?

I had some bleeding.

I'm sorry.

Why do you apologize?

I wanted you to know
so you could move on with your life.

I won't say I'm happy about it, but...

It was for the best, right?

Yeah, I guess.

When was it?

This morning.

I don't get it.
Why did you call me yesterday?

JANUARY 30TH, 2006

What do you mean it's broken?
It's just missing a leg.

- When will you fix this?
- Don't glue it, just sew it together.

- You can't sew it, it's leather...
- It doesn't matter!

It sounds crazy,

but no matter how little contact
I have with my parents,

I need to know they're there,

drinking maté or arguing,
to be more at ease.

So my world doesn't fall to pieces.

Since Tina told me about the bleeding,

I've been calling her,
but she won't answer.

She might have taken after Ramiro.

We found out the shed is being demolished,
so the guys I wanted to say goodbye

to the place that allowed us
to be teenagers and have fun.

Something that seemed forbidden
after the Cromañón fire.

We celebrated being alive.

We celebrated being young.

In a week, I'm turning 17.
I find it hard to say goodbye...

to my teenage self.

It's time I talked with Tomás

and put an end to this story

I've been telling you,
on the other side of the screen.

Wish me luck.

I turned 17 yesterday.

I didn't want to celebrate,
had my cell phone off all day.

Today I got messages from everyone.

Except for Tomás, Tina and Ramiro.

They must have forgotten.

I'm not a memorable person.

I keep playing over and over in my head
the moment when Tomás told me

it would be best
if we put some distance between us.

- ...put some distance between us, Zabo.
- So I can see him as a friend again.

We should put some distance
between us, Zabo.

Distance.

We should put some distance
between us, Zabo.

He pitied me.

Pity.

Mom came into my room
and asked me what was wrong.

- At least someone notices!
- What?

For a second,
I was about to open up my heart

and tell her everything. To speak.

Why didn't you tidy up your room?
I told you to give me your laundry.

- Speak!
- Now I have a lot to wash!

That's the shit everyone asks me to do!

I read you can die from a broken heart.

How long will it take?

Tomás is back with Florencia.

Happy Valentine's Day for them.

P.S.: You can all go fuck yourselves!

Zabo.

Remember when we made that email joke,

"If you're reading this,
I'm most likely dead"?

Well...

I know it's a bit morbid to do it now,
but I can't help it.

Sometimes I feel
I know you from another life.

Cool T-shirt. I'm Pol.

- Zabo.
- Nice to meet you.

...study more.

Am I in love with you?

That's how we'll end up.

I almost told you that once.

But I couldn't.

Today I felt the need to stop existing.

I want to be able to choose
when to put a end to my story.

It's strange to write to say goodbye,
but I don't feel that pressure with you.

I know you'll understand it
sooner or later.

I don't know if you'll ever read this.

But in case you do,
I'm asking you to remember this:

putting an end to the pain is up to you,

not to anyone else.

Don't get this the wrong way.

Where's the ladder?

There, calm down.

I'd never tell you
that killing yourself is a solution.

I'm just advising that you
take charge of your problems,

confront them, and don't let yourself go.

Don't let yourself go like I did.

Ask for help when there's still time.

Speak about what's troubling you.

You have many people who love you

and care about you,
even if you think you don't.

Sometimes your sadness is too deep...

and you cant see that.

Sorry for not letting you ask me why,
as you like to do.

Pol.

SIX MONTHS LATER

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING!

IT'S A YEAR SINCE THE DEATH
OF NIRVANA'S FRONTMAN

AN ONGOING INVESTIGATION:
WAS IT A MURDER OR A SUICIDE?

Everything is in here.

PAGES
ALL PAGES

We should do something with this.

Like what?

Publishing it.

It might help someone
not a feel so lonely.

We have to publish it.

Experience.

Nicolás and I
used to argue a lot about that.

Nico used to say that our experiences
tend to repeat themselves

because we humans forget our past
very easily.

We'll never learn,

but we can help others
not to go through the same stuff.

I'm not proud of getting to know my son
through these drafts.

Teenagers don't overreact, they yell.

They yell for help, in angst, in pain,
they feel powerless.

They yell in their own way...

When you have a problem,
come and talk to me.

...however they can.

- You don't need new friends.
- Shut up!

- I don't know what's happening to me.
- You never know that anyway.

I think I'll die young.

Nicolás,

I hereby forbid you to die.

We should put some distance
between us, Zabo.

Are you mad at life?

There are many kids like Pol and Zabo

who must be going through the same
somewhere in the world.

Maybe one of them is your friend
or someone you care about.

So, if you asked that friend of yours
how they feel

and you felt they lied
or hid behind a joke,

clear up that doubt,
give them a hug, and ask them again.

Show them you really care about
what they have to say.

You don't want to miss that chance.
I've learned that from experience.

And since we're here, let me ask you
on the other side of the screen:

How are you? Really.

POST