About to jump and smiling.

What I've been most afraid of lately is the moment when I become you. Not because of the grooves of age, for which I will be grateful. It's the marks on your soul that worry me. Those deep wounds that long ago made you die and kept bleeding. They splashed our lives and stained them with a scarlet that makes us grieve.

That way of understanding poison as something that protects you…That's what I'm afraid of. Because I believe that if you expel something from the inside, you have had to generate it: toxicity of thoughts and behaviors that have brought out the worst in you. All that rotten darkness inside you.

It paralyzes me to think that I will want to cause someone so much pain. For free. Or for the price to pay will always be expensive. They say that he who doesn't pay owns the debt. Also that what you don't know today by paying, tomorrow you'll know for free. So many moons have passed since that night that it seems like a dream and not a memory.

I'm afraid to love like you. Maybe I could never understand what you felt when you hugged me. When you looked at me. Nor if you were capable of sharing me, nor of wanting to procure my freedom. In your face I read constant contradictions, and I tried to pray to crumble so much meaning. Selfishness married cowardice and I was told I was lucky, that I was the one who failed. In time, I realized that I didn't feel rage, but that I was flying. That I felt part of the air, that I couldn't die of grief or clip my wings.

How the smoke of your cigarette impregnated my head with ashes? I saw those dark circles under your eyes and they screamed at me that I was to blame. Values were not so clear nor could I choose between several options. Now I am grateful that so many cuts were not in vain, but I spent too many summers in the emergency room. I wanted to make a whole cemetery dance and you tried to drown me in a soul full of cysts.

And I'm not afraid of this fear of being you. Maybe you think it keeps me at bay, like someone who doesn't try drugs for fear of addiction. Time to time, in my eyes nothing is hidden. I've learned to dance with demons who don't reveal their face from the start. His touch doesn't skin me, doesn't crack any chink of my skin. About to jump and smiling.

 

A punto de saltar y sonriendo

A lo que más miedo le he tenido ultimamente es al momento en el que me vuelva tú. No por los surcos de la edad, por los que estaré agradecida. Son las marcas en tu alma lo que me preocupan. Esas heridas profundas que hace tiempo te hicieron morir y que han continuado sangrando. Nos salpicaron la vida y la tiñeron de un escarlata que apavoriza. 

Esa forma de entender el veneno como algo que te protege. A eso le tengo miedo. Porque creo que si expulsas algo de dentro, has tenido que generarlo: una toxicidad de pensamientos y comportamientos que han sacado lo peor de ti. Lo podrido que llevas dentro. 

Me paraliza pensar que le querré causar tanto dolor a alguien. Gratuito. O por el precio a pagar que siempre saldrá caro. Dicen que quien no paga, cobra. También que lo que hoy no sabes pagando, mañana lo sabrás gratis. Han pasado tantas lunas desde aquella noche que parece un sueño y no un recuerdo. 

Le tengo miedo a querer como tú. Quizá nunca pude entender qué sentías al abrazarme. Al mirarme. Ni si fuiste capaz de compartirme, ni de querer procurar mi libertad. En tu cara leía contradicciones constantes, e intenté rezar por desmigajar tanto significado. El egoísmo se casó con cobardía y me dijeron que era afortunada, que yo era la que fallaba. Al tiempo, me di cuenta de que no sentía rabia, pero que volaba. Que me sentía parte del aire, que no me podía morir de pena ni cortar las alas. 

¿Cómo el humo de tu cigarro impregnaba de cenizas mi cabeza? Veía esas ojeras y me gritaban que yo tenía la culpa. No estaban tan claros los valores ni pude elegir entre varias opciones. Ahora agradezco que tantos cortes no fueran en vano, pero pasé demasiados veranos en urgencias. Quería poner a bailar a todo un cementerio y tú intentado ahogarme en un alma llenita de quistes. 

Y no le tengo miedo a este miedo a ser tú. Puede que piensa que me mantiene a raya, como aquel que no prueba las drogas por el temor a la adicción. Tiempo al tiempo, en mis ojos nada se esconde. He aprendido a bailar con demonios que no revelan su cara desde el principio. Su tacto no me desuella, no raja ningún resquicio de mi piel. A punto de saltar y sonriendo.