Araña, quien te araño? Otra araña como yo.
We didn’t exactly like the wordplay of this proverb, it was too obvious, but beggars cannot be choosers. Spiders and scratches are almost family, they are almost the same word, and that has been the problem all along.
Children shouldn’t feel useless, they shouldn’t feel replaceable. So, to avoid bitter rivalries, this pair of spider siblings deliberately chose different things. A rose full of thorns and a cat with sharp claws. To get their scratches from different sources, and be able to coexist, without losing neither themselves nor one another.
You gave me a rose. You said I love you. I wove a spiderweb to resemble that rose. To trap you in my love too.
I wove a spiderweb, it was my life’s work. But the cats came and pulled the thread. They made a ball and played with it.
I should have been happy. Like all good little spiders I was born knowing where I wanted to live and how to build my home. But I didn’t know that tearing spiderwebs apart was so easy.
I am a spider, I was meant to be an artist. If I have to weave words, I won’t let them be anything less than art. I write letters, taking care of my calligraphy, as if it were my precious web.
I grew up willing to welcome love with wide-open arms. I knew that I was as fragile as a spiderweb and that rain could destroy me. But I never feared the rain, I never feared love. Because I knew that those raindrops on my spiderweb would make it sparkle and life would look more beautiful. But you told me I love you with a carnation full of thorns. You told me that love is something I have to protect myself against.
My cats don’t need jingle bells to announce their presence and make them feel special. Their whiskers are made of spiderwebs, they know that their preys will never escape, and that is what they are proud of.
What is the point of growing up if you know from the start where your limits will be? Spiders weave their webs from the center. They establish their anchor threads and let the spiral grow, from the center of the web. Spirals promise an infinity, and that is why spiders can grow their webs. But I already know where my limits are, and my creativity has no reason to cooperate.
I won’t waste this chance. When a tooth falls and childhood comes to an end, a chance appears in the form of a gap, but it only lasts until the true tooth grows back. A spiderweb can be woven in that gap, a path that leads to the future you want, instead of just accepting the one you are given. And I have already started to weave my web.
You gave me a plastic flower and told me not to touch it, not to cover it with spiderwebs, because you didn’t want to watch it grow old. But I don’t want a love that is frozen in time. I want a love that will grow with me, that will grow old with me.
One day a pair of black cats arched their backs against my legs. They told me that I was their witch and claimed me for themselves. And I won’t be the one to tell them otherwise. That the spiders are the ones that weave spells along with their webs. Because now those cats are mine and I won’t give them back.
It took me a while but I have finally succeeded. I have replaced my brain with a spiderweb. I have given up on reality, and now I only see my dreamlike world.
Sometimes I think that my words are little spiders that don’t have a home, a spiderweb to keep them together.