Mejor no te lo creas

In my childhood I dreamed of being a presenter. He would set up sets in my room, where he would spend hours replicating the shows he saw on television. At school the teachers called my parents' attention because they said that I didn't live in reality, that I always seemed to be inside a fantasy. As a teenager, I realized that a new dimension was opening like a door inside my head, and I knew that I would never be able to close it again. When I was with people my age, I noticed that there were things that did not provoke the same emotions in me as in others. While everything was happening for them, I felt that my world was somewhere else, it wasn't that one, it wasn't this one. I was convinced that that made me special, that I had superpowers. And I didn't feel singled out or marginalized for not being like the others, I considered myself lucky. Like Superman or Spiderman, I carried my split personality in secret. That was my salvation. At nineteen I started presenting Club Disney. Then came Art Attack, the craft program with which I accompanied several generations. My childhood dream had come true. But my life was about to turn upside down and, like those teachers at school, illness, death and failure were trying to force me out of my fantasy world. What they didn't know is that I had my superhero cape in my drawer.