#meabe

The metamorphosis is about to begin. Objective: kill the hamster. You have been turning and turning blindly inside the wheel for too long, stuck inside the inertia of a Ferris wheel. Everything is (and has been) an absurd repetition. Some species of insects, amphibians, molluscs, crustaceans, cnidarians and echinoderms undergo transformations. But you don't visualise jellyfish, frogs or butterflies in the time you spend collapsed on the sofa. You see a snake that bites its own tail forming a circle: the ouroboros, a circle circling within a circle; a symbol of senseless struggle, the cyclical nature of events and the impossibility of something new beginning despite all efforts.

I'm used to being there, in the gallery of heartbreak. Its walls are too slippery to climb, it's impossible to get over to the other side. If it were possible we would hit that invisible construction until it fell, but that's not something that can be done with hammers: it's the mind that must be changed through continuous effort in order to jump through the traps in the labyrinth. Happiness – the memory of happines we carry – is sticky and clings to the skin. And to everything else. I knew that I would have to take the pain and resentment with both hands, and that I would have to knead them, make a ball and swallow it until it became one with my metabolism and I expelled it little by little. I knew that I would be the one to pick up the bones of our history, the one to burn them.

Those who seek the absolute must get used to coming up empty-handed.

I have doubted a lot. Was it beauty or goodness? True or false? Should I go for it or should I give up? An unavoidable exercise: to doubt was to suffer for something. I still have the same attitude: to doubt is to suffer. And when I suffer, I become the protagonist.