Chapter 27. The truth.

The truth is that I’ve got 5 days left to live like this. Then I’ll succumb and become my older brother. So I guess this is finally time for me to be frank with you. Minutes to midnight, right?

Truth is I’m a controlled mess. I’m probably born on Mars and brought to Earth in a shinny spaceship. The more I try to be human, the more I find it hard to swallow.

Or maybe I’m a clown in the battlefield, always covered with war paint, delivering happy missiles and bullets in the hearts of my problems.

In reality I chose randomness over planning, I chose not to judge and just take life as it is. Try to find the good in the ordinary, try to find the noble cause in the poisonous vaccine. But at what cost?

Acceptance is a harsh thing to do because you let inside everything. Even the razor sharp glass of the mirror, trying so hard to end up with something meaningful or pleasurable. But most of the time you just end up with sadness or disbelief.

I could be a sad panda. Last of it’s kind. Too white for this day and age. Too dark for it too. I could fool you that I’m happy chewing casually my bamboo stick, but deep inside I’m a big pile of sad fluff.

I’m Bumblebee, the Transformer. Every time I open my mouth I shout a reference. That makes me cool sometimes, that makes me strange some other times. Truth is that the truth is better hidden this way. And yes, this phrase was intended to be broken and hard to get. Because it’s easy to get lost in the meta and not really talk about how you feel. About what you really are.

I could be a camelion. I could be Johnny Depp in Rango. “I could be anyone”. I could change my color based on how you look like, how you talk, how you act. I could have many options. And a manual. I could be programmable. And with a high capacity memory. The perfect gift for this Christmas.

But if there’s one truth I know is that I loved that Karate Kid reference. And that it’s hard to find people like that. And why the hell do I fall in love with people that give me the slightest bit of attention?

I could be a hipster. Nonconformist. I’ve got the beard for it now. Isn’t that like the seal of approval? No, wait, that’s not the truth. I don’t like hipsters. I am nothing like a hipster. I am whatever I choose to be, whatever I try to shape. But I don’t have hipster in my dictionary. This trend hasn’t reach Mars yet.

I could be dead right now. A ghost, running around, chasing other ghostly figures just to fool with them. Why don’t ghosts do that instead of meddling with human beings? Makes you wanna wonder, right? Ran down by a taxi on the street, I would take the cab each day from hell till heaven and pay my respects to all the souls I meet.

Because I’m clearly the good guy in this whole story. Being nice to strangers I may never truly know. Loneliness can make you a better person that way. That is if you don’t snap and become the villain in the meantime. And boy, how easy would that be!

I’m the English speaker. Hiding behind the language. Because when things go sensitive, it’s always good to change to English. Words sound cooler that way.

I could be a code. Running through your computer. Shared on the Internet. Digitized, encrypted and randomized. Published on a blog, indexed and optimized for efficiency. Getting results done since ’87. My life motto.

But in all honesty, I think I talk too much. And I mumble. And I’m a coward. And I’m not clear enough. Or maybe I’m just weird. Yes, I’m weird. I think whatever I want and I write it and I publish it. Would you hate me for that? Hate me for the exposure? And think that you may never do that, because you don’t need to? Because you’re not from Mars! And you’re not a camelion Bumblebee ghost.

But I am. So I live how I can. And I write for pleasure. I write for therapy. I could be a writer. A mad one, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t make so much sense for the world because the world doesn’t make too much sense to me.

I could be a depressed patient, in a mental hospital. This could all be a dream. You could be my dream. Or nightmare. I could be taken care of by a cool lady doctor name Andy who would administer me my periodical doses of morphine. And make me forget that this ugly world still exists.

Truth is I really learned to appreciate the people with whom I could really be myself. And not take them for granted. So thank you guys for being there for me. In our short esoterical discussions, through all the good and bad jokes, through all the sad times and the quiet ones. Even when the food wasn’t that good. I really like your company.

But I must go now. Take a 5 days journey in the park near my future home to die and be reborn anew. My 360 degrees cycle has ended.

If you don’t get this, don’t worry. You don’t need to get the whole truth. It’s mostly gray anyway. And no, it doesn’t have 50 shades.

So my message to you is: I will miss us. The way it was, the way it became. But I look at the future and I realize it’s not set. So maybe my older brother will have more power than me to accomplish what I could not. And sing that nice guitar song, swim that extra mile to reach the shore and get that bit of courage to tell you a clearer truth.

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