ORIGIN: Moles are blind, they have big hands. In this world there are myriad things better left unseen. Parents try their best, but children can’t help peeking through fingers. Anyway, that’s where we got our inspiration.
The Hand tried to protect you. From everything that cannot be unseen and, slowly but surely, eats the stars in your eyes away. But I have yet to meet a child with an ounce of self-preservation. Sooner or later all children peek through fingers. Growing up means having both hands in the death of the stars.
Hand: History repeats itself. People don’t learn from their mistakes. Ink and paper are wasted on cautionary tales. My child, there are a dozen years looming ahead of you. They will be gone in the blink of an eye, barely a full circle rotation of the smallest hand on a watch. Human nature will unfold before your very eyes. But you won’t have a piece of glass close at hand. Nowhere you can run for cover. Nothing to take the beating for you, the bruises and all the scratches your heart doesn’t deserve.
Hand: There is food on the table, my child. Smile. Eat to your heart’s content. Don’t ask where it came from, don’t ask what I had to do to put it there. Don’t go breaking the spell. Don’t be in a rush to grow up. I am trying to give you everything. Please, wait just a few more years. Smile. Don’t learn to give up just yet.
Hand: My job isn’t to set an example. I would like nothing more than to hand down a map to you, but there’s no point in showing you the way, my child. We may live in the same world, but I grew up in a different time and place. I had a compass that pointed north. But things have changed, and north isn’t where it used to be anymore. I chose a path. I make a living. And I don’t resent the person I have become. I could afford to hold on to my heart. I haven’t had to lie or cheat. I managed to reach my destination before the world tipped on its axis. And I am sorry, my child. My job is to teach you to survive.
Hand: I would have liked to spare you the truth, my child. I wish you could have grown up in a black and white world, where evil and good were clearly defined. Where they didn’t bleed into each other, and there was no such thing as storm clouds. But the world isn’t what it is despite everyone’s best intentions. Most atrocities are committed out of love. Or with the greater good in mind.
These are the words you have been fed by hand since you were a child. They echo in your mind, blurring the walls. It’s your voice. There’s no reason to put up a fight.
Be yourself. Be yourself. Be yourself. Find something. Anything. Pull it out of a hat if you have to. Just find something unique no one else has. Change the spelling of your name if you have to. You don’t want to be lumped together with everybody else. You don’t want to disappear in the crowd. Find something. Hurry up.
Be happy. Be happy. Be happy. The sun will rise even if the rooster doesn’t crow. But we aren’t talking about the sun here. We are talking about your brain. Smile. It’s not an impossible feat. You don’t have to lift the corners of the horizon, you just have to lift the corners of your mouth. Smile. Force it. Fake it. Until your brain bursts, and dopamine colors your vision.
Never give up. Never give up. Never give up. Slow and steady wins the race. Push your heartbreak back. Don’t cry. Your dream didn’t come true today, but only you get to decide where the finish line is. There is still tomorrow and a whole string of days after. Denial is the best consolation prize. Just keep sweating and hoping for the best.
Dream big. Dream big. Dream big. You are an elephant reaching for the stars. You aren’t allowed to forget your dream as soon as you wake up. Even in death, the stars keep shining, and you can do no less.
The Hand is gone. You are free. Now’s the time to come out of your burrow, little mole. There’s a whole landscape waiting for you. Something only you can see. Do me a favor and describe it for those of us that are still blind.
I see the sunset waiting for me. The horse is saddled, but no one has taught me to ride. Something tells me that happily-ever-after can only be found in the last page of a fairytale. No horse is fast enough to catch up with the sun, not even one that has only ever grazed on the colors of the sunset. Blissfully ignorant pinks. Unapologetically ravenous reds. Even if I knew how to ride, happiness wouldn’t be within my grasp. What’s the point in being free if I still have to settle for words no one would willingly write at the end of their fairytale?
I see trees in full bloom. Green is the color of life. The choices your stomach makes for you. I am not a child; I know what purpose flowers serve. But I would rather think of pinks and reds, yellows and whites, as the colors of dreams. Something you do out of love, not on a clock. That being said, I am a child of this day and age. I dream what others tell me to dream. I wouldn’t survive without electricity. I am hooked up to an intravenous drip. Hearts. Likes. Thumbs up. Who knows, maybe if I had known something else, I would miss being free.
Water as far as the eye can see. If I were asleep, I would call it a sea of dreams. But I am wide awake, and I won’t risk drowning in a shipwreck, not for something as useless as a dream. Life is meant to be lived, not dreamed away. Nothing will anchor me. Nothing will wreck me. I won’t waste my life on something that tastes like tears. I will be free. And if that means being adrift, then so be it.
Is that the future? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely night sky, but I won’t be investing in rockets any time soon. I like my day-to-day life just fine. I wouldn’t exactly call myself free, but I sure count myself lucky. I know what happiness is, I have experienced it, and I wouldn’t trade those little moments for the brightest stars in the sky. I can’t shackle myself to a faraway future that will probably never come to pass.
The Hand is trying to drag you down to Hell. But your face is round like a full moon, there is always a last ray of hope.
Hell is a pile of hollow bird bones. My stomach is full, but I haven’t fulfilled my dreams. At least I never showed any promise. So there’s that. My bones never lied to me. Air belongs in the sky. That’s what I was always meant to be. Those who can do, and those who can’t teach. I was always meant to be the sky where somebody else will fly one day. It’s not so bad. Flying paper planes counts too, I guess. And even if they feel like daggers to my heart, they will be just the majority. There is still a small number of children that are willing to learn. There has to be.
Dinocampus Coccinellae is not just the name of a wasp. It’s the name of the worst living hell I can imagine. The one where I am trapped right now. Something has taken over my life. Call it love, call it duty for all I care. That’s not my name. I don’t want to give my life for somebody else. I don’t want to die protecting something else. I can’t take comfort in being selfless. Heroes get songs, but I don’t want to live on like that. I just want my name back.
There is no such thing as Hell. There are hungry worms and there is oblivion. Something I am already well acquainted with. I used to know how to do long division. I used to know the names of all the rivers in Europe. My bones aren’t worms, but they were hungry too. I have forgotten most of what I was told to memorize. But I still remember goodnight kisses on the forehead. It’s what I will take to my grave. And hopefully the worms will have to wait another lifetime to finish erasing me.
A living hell is being told, time and time again, that nothing you have is really yours. The moon gets its light from the sun. I have been told that I get the color of my eyes from my mother and my vivid imagination from my father. My mathematical brain from my grandmother and my dislike of carrots from my grandfather. Even my inability to function in the morning comes from a great uncle twice removed. I have to tell myself that they mean well, that they aren’t wishing my existence away. I try to look on the bright side. At least I am not all alone in the world. But it gets harder every day.
Children come in all shapes and sizes, but this time the Hand has something more concrete in mind. A dedicated organ, that won’t grow up to be a disappointment. One that will fulfill its duty, without having to be led by the hand.
The shortest distance between two points may be a straight line, but you are right, my brain, there is more to life than linear thinking.
Sloths give the best hugs, and you are perfect the way you are, my heart. Living in a hurry means that we miss the best things in life, and I would never wish that on you.
I can’t think of anything more underappreciated than air. I just found out that the definition of blue-sky is worthless. But you and I, my lungs, we know the truth. Without you skin turns blue. You are priceless.
Don’t let anyone tell you that you are not courageous, my liver. Just because snails hide inside their shells, and there is a passing resemblance, it doesn’t mean that you are a coward.
Who says that shooting stars can’t be caught? All this Hand needs is a star-nosed mole and a few worms. Hurry up. While it is in a giving mood. Shout your wish. While it is all ears.
Someone: I wish for fish gills. I am tired of all this noise, but I don’t want to close my heart for good. I just want to breathe underwater and remain open to something more pleasant, like a whale song.
Someone: I wish for consequences. Pinky promises mean something to me. I always keep up my end, I am the one that breaks into tears, and it’s not fair. I want to see broken bones. One for every piece of my broken heart.
Someone: I wish for a new doll. A new best friend. One whose hair I can comb with my fingers. Until my nails draw blood, and I have enough to wash her brain. Friends should make you feel welcome, and no one knows the words I want to hear better than me.
Someone: I wish for starless nights. I don’t want to live my life with the past looming over me. I am a child; I should be looking forward to the future. But I see stars from the corner of my eye, and I can’t concentrate on what matters. So, they have to go.