Apparent

It’s the similarities, the ones that make everything seem different. It’s the eyes, the only ones who are willing to face reality. An unequal reality, a contradicted destiny. That damned destiny who possesses intrepidity and wickedness. It’s the dreams, the ones who proclaim her deepest desires. It’s the monster of a new sunrise, the one who paints everything in pink. It’s that monster , the one who doesn't let the heart hide behind the bones. But it’s only her, the one who decides her destiny, the one who decides if the frame hangs on the wall, or is taken down and stored with delicacy, painting the wall green with her own hand.

It’s her ghosts, those that follow her down the street at eight in the afternoon, the ones that tell her she’s making a mistake. The blurry figures with distinguished expressions block the alley; they keep her facing the gloomy vine that climbs up the somber wall. Those ghosts have names, November, February, April and July… they surround her and accuse her for putting them aside, keeping them in the back of the closet with the strawberry letters. She implores them, wishing to cut the cord that doesn't let her go up and see what's on the other side of the bricks. 

A familiar hand due to misfortunes and luck sets the knife close to her, because scissors won’t be enough to rip this tie. The girl hesitates and accepts it, her heart beating with uncertainty. Every time the metal blade rips the fiber of the binding, she lets out a breath as well as a tear. Her eyes cry, not due to sadness, but because the rest of her being is finally starting to see reality with them.

On the other side of the wall, sunset waits for her, this time without remorse. He helps her pose her memories on grains of sand, the heaviest falling to the bottom, so that water can store them in the beach of her life with care.It’s the feelings, the ones that proclaim their liberty. They help the heart with scars take a step forward.

Future

I had heard about it; stories about its fierce footsteps and unwanted battles. I never truly accepted it would reach me, I expected to stay hidden in the playground forever, not caring about its whereabouts or victims. They said it doesn't understand mercy or patience; it's always carrying on its task. I never believed it.

Until, one day, it came for me.

It stormed in without warning, breaking the door down and turning the furniture upside down. It turned off the lights and kept me in the darkness. I haven't seen myself since that day. It took my blind freedom away, not letting me stay tied down anymore. It made me want to run, sprint to the woods, where someone else had the lead. It made me face my fears, but it didn't teach me how to face its constant presence. It dug its way into my mind, always having a say in my words, twisting them until I couldn't speak anymore. It made me choose. It made itself permanent in my days, and its tattoo bound in my skin. The tattoo says its name, a word made of six letters and anxious colors. "Future" is written on my arm.

Hand in hand with time

I found myself in the corner with the leaves falling around me, melting with a green that inspires hope.

I found myself with the grey sky, who´s waiting for the sunset to come so it can turn orange and dance next to the fire.

I found myself with my feet bare, confused for stepping on October.

I found myself face to face with someone who I thought I had forgotten. Autumn looks at me with uncertainty, waiting for me. He puts his hand before mine, inviting me to let the summer warmth go, to start to change. Disoriented, my hand starts to approach his, doubting if it´s ready to let a new season guide it. I hear a whisper about promises that will be kept and I let myself go.

The stranger, with the name of autumn, recites poems about change, he relates poetry about copper colored mornings. I let the poems make me different, take the cold with delight, wear scarfs hidden at the back of the closet. The verses help me remember autumn, the fairy tales that were written by its side and the beauty of waking up next to it.

Now, I find myself dancing to the beat of a new season.

October 4th

It was spontaneous, a car driven by the power of the lyrics and eyes open for the sake of coffee. The three hearts beat in unison, hoping to keep the forever of the moment hidden in the clock. They traveled, like birds after a long winter, through the blue and silver of the city. They made the drive their own; it was just them and the tangles of city being unraveled by the music.

It was impeccable, walking through the streets at midnight, letting their childhood slip through their fingers. Water made them see how the simple moments are what matter, they splashed and laughed, letting the weight of their shoulders leave them in the translucent fountain. They dreamed of climbing the city, being and the top and jumping without wings, just to feel the adrenaline pound in through their bodies. The city could never scare them.

It was compassionate. They protected her with speed and untold secrets. He took her hand to lift her spirits up, making the broken seem fixed. They dared the established, not caring before speaking. They promised to do and not think, letting time take them.

It was unique, a night to never leave their memories. The stars looked at them and felt jealous of the boys and the girl for having turned a simple autumn night into an experience so remarkable, into a night that only spoke of truthful mysteries. The three teenagers clashed, creating a friendship born in smoke, a smoke that intertwined different corners of the world coming together. The moon was the witness of an everlasting chorus.