Muda el lobo los dientes y no las mientes.
This proverb says that wolves change their teeth, not the way they think. It doesn’t call them liars outright, not like most fairytales do. But that is what we call our wolves. Our imagination. Those lies storytellers tell, and only children truly believe.
The little girl heard somewhere that if you love someone, you set them free. And that is what she did. Her last tooth fell, her childhood came to an end, and she left the door wide open. For the wolves that lived inside her mouth, in the darkness of her mind. For the fairytales. For all the childish lies that she had been allowed to believe. The wolves didn’t stay. She keeps them inside a jewelry box now. A different darkness. With all her childish teeth and a ballerina, a dream, for company. Inside her mouth there are still lies, she is a storyteller after all. Lies she would like to believe. And maybe, just maybe, that is what love really is.
I see those milk teeth that they put inside the jewelry box and I think that once I must have had a childhood too. A time when I was malleable and I had the chance to learn a different dance. But I don’t remember it. And now I only feel trapped. In the repetitive circles of the only dance I know.
I don’t need to be lied to. I know that I will never be free to dance how I really want to dance. I know that I will never be free inside this jewelry box.
There is no point in running if the wolf runs faster than you. I would dance until the wolf could only stare open-mouthed at me, in awe. Until the wolf forgot how to close its mouth, how to bite.
If my dance has to have an audience, I would choose milk teeth over jewels. I would choose children over adults. Because when children applaud there is wonder, there is truth. And I can forget that clapping is just a meaningless social convention.
It is said that even monsters were children once. I remember a child that wanted to be a ballerina when she grew up. I remember having inspired her dreams. And now I wonder if that makes me guilty. Of sharpening her wolf teeth.
If you were only going to allow me to have stories and imagination as a child, why did you allow me to take care of that wolf in the first place? If you expected me to say goodbye to my imagination as soon as my last milk teeth fell, if you expected me to let my wolf go, why didn’t you treat me as an adult from the start? It would have been less cruel.
They told me not to lie. That I would end split in two. That I wouldn’t know which half was real and which half belonged to those lies. It never occurred to them that that was what I wanted. I wanted to get rid of my reality. I wanted the wolf to bite me and tear me apart. I wanted to be devoured and end inside its stomach. I only ever wanted to inhabit my lies.
I have fulfilled my dream of becoming a ballerina. I don’t need to keep lying to myself in order to be happy. Now I only have to wait for the wolves to catch on and stop looking for me.
Follow your dreams, they will certainly lead you to a wonderful place.
Don’t worry, go to sleep and dream. I’m sure that there is no one awake waiting to wake you up too.
The world is what you make of it.
It is never too late to dream.
I don’t understand those people that lie to make others happy. It’s like a wolf that howls at the moon. I only lie to make myself happy.
It’s not my fault, I tried to stop lying. I tried to close my mouth and let my wolves starve in the dark. But the world insists on being a horrible place, on being a disappointment and keep feeding my lies.
You told me that lying was wrong. But everyone lies. Survival depends on those wolves. And now I have no choice but to welcome someone else’s wolves, I have no choice but to repopulate my mouth with someone else’s lies.
You brought me up with sweets, that is my favorite flavor. Lies are sweeter than the truth. What made you think that I would choose to tell the truth?