Scolded by the mirror

"The dream is no more."


Who the hell do you think you're lying to? I am you. I know what you know, and what you don't know you know, about you. You keep telling me you don't love her anymore. If, in the name of God, that statement were ever true, you wouldn't have to keep saying it all the way on. So be realistic... It is because of her that you haven't fallen in love with anyone. You still love her! You can’t fill a glass full of water; neither can you occupy a heart which is already occupied. And, if there were anything I, or you, or either of us could do, is accept it. I thought you had already learned that minimizing, keeping safe, warm and locked down, only makes it survive. Accept it already!

You know I don't like to scold me, but hell you won it! So, now, understand what I'm about to tell you. She has already forgotten you. Stop, once and for all, thinking that she might think of you from time to time. She said so, it is true. And she might, as well. But she said so as a way of telling you it is a good memory. Did you hear me? ME-MO-RY! So stop your faith, it might work. And, believe me; you don't want it to work. It would be the same disaster as the last time, and the time before that. I love you. I love you with all my might. I love you more than anything in this world. So, please, believe me. You need to keep your path, not to keep dreaming under the leafless tree’s shadow of our love story. There is no us, as you can see. So, please, please! Please keep walking. It is, in fact, time to wake up. The dream is no more.

We, you and I, perfectly know that there is “her”, up there, out there. The “she” we have always wanted is there. We really don’t know if she will wake up and keep walking too. Yes, we know she’s dreaming too. But you, YOU have to keep walking. And, as you know, dreaming is not the right way of loving. It doesn’t get you anywhere. And, also, as I’ve already told you, she’s not dreaming about you. She’s dreaming about “him”, the “him” that she would meet if she’d just begin walking her path. If only she would stop avoiding the things she want, and pretend destiny's against her. If only she would stop escaping from her very best desires, and instead replacing them with fake friendships, loves and cares. She would be happy; if only she would stop being afraid of getting what she desires most.

So is our turn for smile. Tomorrow is our best day. You don’t want her, you want “her”. And “she” isn’t sited somewhere else, waiting for you (at least I hope she isn’t). She’s walking her path. If you ever want to catch her up, you must begin to walk right away. No, we don’t know if she’s got a “him” in her path; neither we know if she’s ever standing up and walking. And no, we’re not walking a path next to hers. No, we don’t know if our path will meet hers in the future. We don’t know what’s written on destiny’s stone face. Could you please stop asking about her?

Come on. I know you can do this. I believe in you. I believe in us. So, yes, stand up. Step by step; we’ll begin our path step by step. This nightmare was just what we needed for you to wake up from your bubble-dream. Now I’ve told you what we needed to know to start walking, step by step. Now we know what you needed to know to begin traveling. Life is a travel; you can only enjoy it by starting it. And you can only start it by beginning with one first step, two steps, step by step. We’ll get past her in short time. Meanwhile, I would love to listen at you song. Sing Relief! Sing Relief, because freedom is upon us. You can taste it, I can smell it, we can sense it. Believe me when I say you hadn’t tried before. This! This is what people call living our life. And we are already enjoying it, aren’t we? So, let’s go. Now is the best moment to begin the change. To begin the travel, the best travel ever.


-Yes, I do. Yes, I did. But, yes, I will-.

Prólogo

Sístole y diástole;
exhala.
Beso bohemio
en labio francés.
Pestañeo,
sobriedad adúltera,
alucinación.
Repetición subsecuente.

La reliquia de la vida
es la poesía
de un beso empedernido.
El amor de tinta
ahora es de pixeles.
Haz el amor con tu arte,
y el arte con tu amor.

Furor,
fulgor,
finura.
L'amour c'est tout.
(Tout c'est toi!)

Oblícuo contenedor,
ambíguo,
tentativo.
¡Vértigo en la espina dorsal!

Y sístole y diástole.