From the mountain of my dreams, I am pushed, like a stone. While rolling to the ground, I feel little parts of myself being left behind. It’s hard to look back and see that so much was lost. But I keep rolling without control. I can’t help it.
In the middle of the mountain, I got stuck. Can’t keep going down, neither can go back up. The sun is pointing his beams to me, burning my face as if it wanted to change my color, to change the way I am. Some clouds come to try to stop the sun, but his beams are strong and pass through them. It’s hurting me already. I don’t like to be changed, specially like this, with no option at all. Suddenly, I felt another push, freeing myself from being stuck, but not saving me at all. All this pushing was to take me down, and down, and down…
I had no one to hold, nowhere to hide. It was a free fall. Free of guilty, maybe. Because I was trying to stop it all. I was trying to get up and walk to the top again. But they were saying no; they were saying I should stop dreaming, that all of it wasn’t real life. However, I didn’t want to give up. If they couldn’t climb up to their objectives, it didn’t mean I could not do it as well.
So I finally touched the ground. People are always taking me down. But doesn’t matter, I’ll climb it up again. I’m getting stronger, and the day will come when I’ll be strong enough to be able to avoid their pushes, and maybe pull one or another with me to see the life from the top of that mountain with the eyes I’ve learned to see.
And if I may say, the world seems more pleasant and wonderful from up here.