04/05/2026
I am 60 years old.
My son is 33⦠and he never left.
Heās still in his same old room.
The same closet.
The same bed.
The same life⦠frozen in time.
He doesnāt work.
He doesnāt study.
He doesnāt look for anything.
He wakes up late, turns on the TV or the computerā¦
and lets the day pass as if it had nothing to do with him.
If I donāt serve him breakfast, he doesnāt eat.
If I donāt wash his clothes, they pile upā¦
until he has nothing clean left.
And the hardest partā¦
is that it didnāt start like this.
I built this.
When he was a child, I never let him do anything on his own.
I tied his shoes⦠even when he could already do it.
I did his homework⦠āso he wouldnāt get stressed.ā
I spoke to his teachers, solved his conflicts, avoided his problems.
I always thought:
āHeāll have time to suffer when heās an adult.ā
But that moment⦠never came.
At 18, he didnāt know what to study.
I gave him a year.
It turned into three.
I never demanded that he work.
I never pushed him to be uncomfortable.
If he needed money⦠I was there.
If he wanted to go out⦠I paid.
While others moved forward⦠I said:
āEveryone has their own pace.ā
But he never had a pace.
Because he never had a need.
At 25, he tried to study something technical.
He lasted four months.
He said it was too hard.
I withdrew him.
Yes⦠me.
I told him he would find something better.
But the truth is⦠he never looked for anything.
At 30, an aunt offered him a job.
He lasted two weeks.
He complained about everything.
He came back homeā¦
and I welcomed him as if he had returned from a war.
I made his favorite meal.
I told him something better would come along.
It never did.
Today his life is an empty routine:
he sleeps at dawn, wakes up at noon,
eats, watches screens⦠and repeats.
And if I ask him something as simple as taking out the trashā¦
he replies: ālater.ā
If I talk to him about work⦠he gets upset.
He says I pressure him.
Recently, I told him I no longer have the same strengthā¦
that my back hurts, that I get tired.
His response?
āThen letās hire someone to help you.ā
Two months ago, I got seriously ill.
Three days in bed.
I thought⦠that would make him react.
The first day, he ordered food.
The second, he left the dishes dirty.
The third, he asked me when I would get upā¦
because he had no clean clothes.
That day I understood something that broke me:
he doesnāt know how to live without someone taking care of him.
And that someone⦠has always been me.
My sisters say I should kick him out.
That heās already a man.
But when I see him sleepingā¦
I still see that five-year-old boyā¦
hugging his pillow.
And the truth is this:
I left him there.
I didnāt prepare him for life.
I protected him from everything.
And nowā¦
the world for him is this house.
And Iā¦
am the only thing he has.
Sometimes, love without limitsā¦
doesnāt protect.
It destroys silently.