Acogí al ratón en mi agujero, y volvioseme heredero.
The saying urges us not to trust someone that, in time, could take advantage of that trust. But we lack information. Why did you take that mouse in? Why did you welcome it with open arms? That word conjures up care, protection and shelter, and we see no reason why that mouse should be left out of the will. People die, after all, and the only way to scrape a little bit of eternity is to bequeath something to the future. So, if the mouse has inherited something from you (and we are not talking about money but experiences, memories and character traits), shouldn’t you be grateful to that mouse for bringing you a step closer to eternity?
Once upon a time there was a snake that had never met his parents, a snake that had barely shared an instant with his siblings. Because snakes lay their eggs, and wash their hands of them. Because snakes follow their own paths, without forming attachments or packs.
That snake lived his life like any other snake. But when he caught a glimpse of the end of the road, for the first time in his life, he wished he could have been anything other than a snake. He wished he could have done things differently. Because the snake knew which eternity awaited him, and he didn’t want to be part of it.
So, the snake welcomed a mouse into his hole. A little mouse that once was part of a family. The snake shared the rest of his life with that mouse. And it died, convinced that the mouse would remember him, opening the gates to a different eternity for him.
And the mouse remembered the snake. The mouse remembered a selfish snake, that did everything to get his hands on a better eternity for himself. Everything he shared. Everything he handed down to the little mouse. The mouse inherited that same selfishness. And when the time came, to form a family, that was the legacy he perpetuated.
I know what awaits me at the end of the road, I am a snake after all. Fate may be written in the stars, but forever is written in snakes like me. More of the same. Endless repetition. That’s it. Ghosts don’t change. They are frozen in time. Translucent ice. That’s what they are. And time just passes them by. Did you think that I would be different? I might have worn countless skins in my life, I might have shed them without looking back, but skins don’t become ghosts. Hearts do, when they stop beating and the trap snaps shut, putting an end to what you call life and I call Change. And all I want is to keep a shred of my heart whose company I can tolerate. Because, unlike you, I am a snake, and that means that I will only have myself for company.
I won’t lie, it crossed my mind. I felt cold. And I thought of eating that mouse in one gulp. I heard its blood calling to me, promising me warmth. Something red, to replace my heart. I was tempted. But I am a snake. I don’t have hands, and I knew that I wouldn’t have been able to keep those flames alive for long. No, I made the right choice. Eternity awaits me, and a flicker of warmth wouldn’t have done me any good. I need more than a meager crumb. And keeping that mouse alive was a good place to start. It gave me someone to love. To keep loving, long after its aftertaste would have disappeared without a trace from my mouth. And now my mind is ablaze with red memories. That still aren’t enough, but a handful of stars will always be better than a crumb.
It’s my fault, for shedding my skins and giving myself room to breathe, room to grow. I should have held onto one of my skins. Maybe not onto the first, because I didn’t have enough words back then. And maybe not onto the third, because I didn’t know what love was yet. The fifth one felt almost right. And even though the sixth one made me doubt myself, I should have stopped there. I shouldn’t have kept trying my luck. Any of those skins would have done the trick, but I kept going, and the eighth one sealed my fate. I want to rot away. I want to be forgotten. But Forever doesn’t take mercy on its prey, and I can’t bite off chunks of my own tail. I can’t escape who I have become. Nothing remains of the skins I have shed. Not a word, not even a drop of love. And I just wish Forever had claimed me while I still wore a skin I felt comfortable in.
I see no downside to being a snake. I enjoy my own company, and I can’t wait for eternity to unfold before my eyes. I can’t wait to be alone on the road. For the day when the last drop of venom falls from my mouth, and I don’t have to replenish it anymore. No more hatred. No more resentment. No more jealousy. Just me and my road. Unadulterated love for the first time in my life. Because I will only have myself to blame, and that is a forgiveness I can find in myself.
At least the snake didn’t lie to me. He told me what he wanted from me from the very first and I never got my hopes up. I never piled unrealistic expectations on the word love. Nobody has children out of the kindness of their heart. People are selfish, and they always expect something in return, even if the payment is something as small as being loved back. At least the snake never took advantage of my sincerity. He knew that I was a child. That love was the only truth I would ever have to my name. And he didn’t make me hate myself, for thinking that I had been giving it freely when, clearly, that could never be the case.
A snake might have brought me up, but he wasn’t the one that broke my heart. That’s on you. I grew up thinking that snakes were cold-blooded creatures. I never expected warmth from my snake. There was a roof over my head and food on the table every day, and I was blissfully happy thinking that my snake loved me in his own way. But then you told me that I was using an antiquated word. That snakes are ectothermic, and they rely on environmental heat. You broke my heart when I realized that I could have warmed my snake up. Because I was his whole world. And if I had loved him right, with all my heart, I would have inherited something other than this cold. Why does it have to be my fault? How was I supposed to know that I had the power to reshape my world? I was only a child. And I thought that love meant that someone else would do his best to shape me.
I? I am quite happy with my legacy. Just think about it, if we weren’t selfish, we would still be in the sea. And given the choice, I would rather be a small mouse than a lone microorganism any day of the week. So what if my snake didn’t want to be alone? Who can blame him for not wanting to spend an eternity keeping his own company? Children aren’t born out of love. We are just a means to ward off loneliness and add a few years to forever. And I myself intend to embrace my selfishness.
When my snake died, I inherited his shiny scales. Sure, money is cold to the touch and loving families warm up the heart. But you can’t tell me that this world runs on love. And my snake didn’t lack company. He had me. He paved a shiny way for me, and I am enjoying my life, thank you very much.