Just a Wishful Thinking

The first time I leaft it was a very strange sensation.
I wasn't quite sure if a good bye was an appropiate farewell, because a part of me wanted to hold to the belief that nothing would change whilst I was away. That was an irrational wishful thinking, of course.
When the day of leaving behind everything known to me came, I felt for the first time the inevitable weight of time on my shoulders, and I knew its touch would never abandon me; I knew that it will hound my soul and body till the end.
I looked at the tree in the backyard. It was a melancolic view of all the years I haven't noticed how important it was for me. It was a review of myself growing up unconsciously, happily ever after, so unaware of this feeling that it was tearing me appart.
Not asking for any acquiescence, things that had always been so familiar, began to become a threat to the stability that had reigned my world.
None had tought me how to face a reality that before had seemed so untouched, so fixed.
I'd wish to whisk this girl off to Neverland. Instead, my cases waited in the car that soon would drive me away from the house that was my entire world. Every room a country, a memory, a scent of unforgettable and priceless moments.

And now, after all these years, after all my thousands of lives getting mired into the search of a better "this", I realised that "this" is still shapeless.
I've been tugging it along all this time amongst my trousers and skirts, my lipsticks and expensive perfumes. Amongst all my books that encoded several ways of describing it, but gave me no answers.
So I guess this is not it.
Between loops and dashes, I've sewed a quilt full of the names that made me change route when at some point I thought the time had come to settle down.
For some reason, this city does not want to fall at my feet. She laughs at my pretention to purport to be a conqueror who subyugates her to my will. But she resists proudly and defiant. She only makes my desire grows stronger. And I like her because of that.
I think I still want to understand the limits (if they exist) and all the mistery of my darkest Miss Hyde.
So I tilt my chair backwards whilst writing these words, I look up trying to draw with my imagination the stars that are outside there tonight and I aknowledge the ups and downs, the controversial acceptance of a defeat and the confussion that that defeat has drove me in, because I know I've said and done many wrongs.
But, I am just a human.
That does not justify my slackness, but it moves me, because my imperfection it's reluctantly willing to become something else.