Do you have the time to listen to me whine about nothing and everything all at once?
I am one of those melodramatic fools, neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it.

Apr 20, 2008

About a hidden message

- Riot I: so you say you “see” me?

- Riot II: yeah, I see you

- Riot I: and what do you see?

- Riot II: I see this: you’re in a playground. There’s a bunch of kids playing around the slide. They’re taking turns to go down the slide and every time one of them lands the group cheers joyfully and heroically. You’re in the sandbox, looking at these kids and wondering what would it be like to be one of them. You wish with all your heart you could stand up, climb up and go down feeling all the freedom in the world; dreaming everything you don’t allow yourself to dream and knowing that in the end you will be a hero as well. Instead, you’re sitting down in the sandbox and because your biggest fear is slide down to nothing at all and full emptiness, you explain how playing in the sandbox is much better than sliding down the stupid slide… here you’re in perfect control and can leave whenever you like; up there, there’s no turning back.
The slide is life, love, dreams, hopes.
The adrenaline is that one moment when you feel perfectly happy.
The cheering is that satisfaction of doing that what you were afraid of.
The sandbox is mediocrity, weakness, fear, ordinary.
That kid is you.

- Riot I: I see…

- Riot II: I’m just saying… you should get up and play.

- Riot I: I know that.

- Riot II: then what are you waiting for?

- Riot I: basically… the right person to play with.

- Riot II: are you really?

- Riot I: What?

- Riot II: looking for the right person, cause it doesn’t look like it.

- Riot I: maybe I'm not, but trust me, one day, I’m sure, I’ll get up and take a ride down the slide.

- Riot II: then I’ll make sure to be down there cheering you up.

No comments:

SOY GARRIK

Cuántos hay que, cansados de la vida,
enfermos del pesar, muertos de tedio,
hacen reír como el actor suicida,
sin encontrar para su mal remedio!

¡Ay! Cúantas veces al reír se llora,
Nadie en lo alegre de la risa fíe,
porque en los seres que el dolor devora,
el alma gime cuando el rostro ríe.

Si se muere la fe, si huye la calma,
si sólo abrojos nuestra planta pisa,
lanza a la faz la tempestad del alma,
un relámpago triste: la sonrisa.

El carnaval del mundo engaña tanto,
que las vidas son breves mascaradas;
aquí aprendemos a reír con llanto
y también a llorar con carcajadas.