They keep asking you what do you want to be? Who will you be? Monótonamente y siempre en futuro. Until one day, no muy conscientemente, you decide on a possible you. A cocktail of your personal heroes, two or three not very tested principles and, a misconception of your limitations: la persona que crees que podrías ser y la que te gustaría ser, el promedio de tus sueños y de tus miedos. So you try, you try, you try, and you fail. Haces de tripas corazón and then, you try again; after all, if everything goes wrong at least you tried. Time goes by, but you’re still there, trying. Determination is strong when one is trapped. Besides, you know what you want, and you don’t quit easy. So you fight, está en juego la épica personal, la película de tu vida. You don’t remember what brought you here. Pero eso no importa, llevas en esto mucho tiempo y ahora es todo lo que sabes hacer. So you learn from your mistakes, you learn to stand up again and again, and again and again. Even better, you learn to fall gracefully, time after time. Until one day you realize, you are close to the cocktail, so close you can smell it. You are almost there, and yet, there is no thrill, there are no bright lights, and nobody really cares. So you see yourself, you see the you you choose to be so long ago. But there is something off, algo que no cuadra, algo que está mal. It’s like being in front of a picture of a younger version of yourself that is not quite you. It’s like a doppelgänger you don’t even want to meet. It is everything you hoped for, and yet, it feels like a suit you don’t want to wear, el vestido que te hizo un amigo y que no te queda nada bien. Tan lejos, tan cerca, faraway so close. And so, after all you’ve been through, you are here: blankly staring at what you have done and what you didn’t do. Asking yourself how did you even get that far. Where is that strength? Dónde la motivación? En que lugar guardaste tus sueños, en dónde se quedo escondida esa tarde de abril.
And then it hits you for the first time, that damn feeling of breaking up, only this time it feels like you are the one that is leaving and the one that is being left. Las malditas despedidas. So you continue, you don’t freeze, you just go on. Don’t think, go straight ahead, the future is there. Pero la charada es tortuosa and painful. And above all, not worth pursuing. The boredom starts eating your soul and killing your ambition and there is no rest. No hay calma, no hay silencio, y no hay canción que aliviane tu alma. And so it seems as if you had but two options: take it or leave it.
Todo o nada.
But you choose none. You cannot leave it, you cannot take it. No existe ni el todo ni la nada, son solo las boberías de una mente abstracta. Pones en tu maleta el traje de quien fuiste. Lo guardas cuidadosamente, lo doblas, lo planchas y lo miras, pero no lo dejas. It will go with you wherever you go. Y lentamente you realize, we are always starting again, we are always leaving and being left, we are always in the middle of the symphony. We never arrive anywhere. After all, la vida es lo que está entre el principio y el final.