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I don't like being told how I am. If I find it hard to define myself, who is who wise enough to venture to judge me?
I like the differences. I always look for something different because at the same time, I am constantly searching for something different in me. Something that I know is yet to be discovered. And partly because of that, what I dislike most is lynching. That grinding of constant reproaches that we often see on the outside, and that many other times, seeps into us. Within our own being. Within our own soul.
It is very sad to observe people pointing out as true criminals. Taking their eyes off each other in a costume of insults and screams that often only responds to absolutely banal and unimportant things. I don't like that protest for everything. I don't like that destroying oneself in threats under a false moral that is often neither carried nor applied. It is that attitude that destroys the heart. The empathy with which a bomb is built. The bomb that explodes in a thousand pieces taking with it a relationship, a family, or an entire society.
It will be that I only put my gaze on what some love offers me, because in the worlds of hate, you will never see in me a judge directing your flags.
Don't look for me out there.
Don't look for me in that enchanted city where mouths play to bite with reproaches. Beautiful princess, I know other ways and places where you can bite me. Don't think badly, just a slight bite on the cheek. Just a soft brush of your teeth. With your lips furrowing my skin, almost without touching it, but moisturizing. With the softness of playing to make you shy when what you have left over is the impudence.
I don't have time for you to tell me what I did wrong, but I have plenty of time to do something right. It is not a time for reproaches. It will be in one of your torn screams where I will find my apologies. Then you will tell me that I am not good, that rather I am very bad. And to whispers I will answer: yes, it is true! But you already knew that ...
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