Become, be part...BE.

Once upon a time, in a place which name I still remember, there was a boy whom I've met whilst we were both travelling around a small planet. He might have been from there. I don't know if he never told me or if I forgot to ask him.
He liked to draw ... he liked to dream...This reminded me of some character I used to admire when I was a little girl. This boy, for some reason, reminded me of this character whom I think he had a rose that loved him very much.
She cried hersef to death when he decided to abandon her to see another world that was not enough to imagine.
And he could not possibly have imagined that the world he dreamt to discover would be the way it was.
This boy I've met told me the story that had been told many times before him by people who also shared the same or similar expectations. A story about broken dreams, unfunfilled hopes, time consuming willingness which ends up in sorrows...
He told me about a world he dreamt of and about the person he wanted to become in this world.
I said to him that becoming it's a painful process, but it's a natural one too.
The shaping of our thoughts come to us from the outside; we let it enter conciouslly, and unconciously, we'll never be the same. Or it might be the other way around.
You don't become artificially. Only idiots who play to be gods do that. Only insecurity can be the mother of such an enterprise.
I said to him that becoming is not a plan for life. Accepting the way things flow inside you, it is.
He wanted to master nature. He fooled himself, for nature was not made to be a man's slave.

We both were so young by then.... Maybe full of blood, ignorant of how that stream that run towards the ocean of our souls was prompt to dry.
We were the same and time turned the similarities in unreconciliable differences we didn't know how to save.
I abandoned him. I left him with the doubt and his self pity. I could not save him. I refused to pay that penitence that forced me to watch our love die. How could he aksed me to witness that?
Our place in the world wasn't cursed. We used to call it home, at times paradise. Indeed it was. And we spoilt it by letting our frustations in.
By themselves, they never found their way out. By ourselves, we couldn't satisfied our desires for more of god knows what.

By myself I found a way I never had imagined that could exist.
That road was so lonely and cold and many times I felt tempted to go back and throw myself in those arms that once had meant the world to me because they were my fortress, my pillars, my comfort... They were part of me. I was that body once.
For many nights I felt limbless without him inside me. I felt lost without the scnet I used to follow in the dark that always guided me towards him.
That road was tasteless whitouth his lips and the flavour of his mouth.
But... one day.... All those things stop having meaning. I supressed it from them and founded me.
I discovered the subjectivity of menaining, the tricks that our mind plays with to trap us in one way alley. I made the key of my freedom and named myself the Queen of my kingdom.
That boy I've met in that place which name I still remember, still wonders how the world is or how it's possible it is not the way he had imagined it to be.
He doesn't know he is to scared to find out.
But who isn't?