[After a few months of break the blue feather pen, fills itself with ink and starts writing once more]
All my life
I was prepared to be as a warrior, let us not say trained, but prepared
mentally and emotionally. Let me just say that it turns you into a very
efficient person and also very strong to endure pressure as risk situations or
emotional stress. Yes. Those prepared as warriors are armed to become
independent and turn out as winners in every competition that they face. It all
sounds rather beautiful, powerful and desirable at some point.
However,
let us know that as strong and ruthless a warrior may be, no matter how many
acts of cruelty he has to plan and execute, no matter how ice cold his mind has
turned, in the end they are all humans. Façades of metal and ice with hawk eyes
that would see deep into sin and death and not linger, their souls freezing
from all the hardening they have been forced to commit into their own selves.
Strong,
aggressive, competitive, unstoppable and ruthless the warriors go out to hunt
winnings and they conquer them but these ice masters with metal skins and
icicles in their eyes, they end up breaking up now and then. That becomes their
doom, their curse and their downfall, as for they have been raised to endure
not to bend, so they shall stand and endure the coldest winter and the fiercest
storm holding on and abide through all that, because that is how they were
raised and there is no second path for them.
But once of
them walked away, he walked far from sight and went high up into the mountain,
seeking refuge within the thick forest, where nobody could see him because he
knew that he was about to break down.
Strong and
proud he used to walk through the sidewalks of the town, people would cross his
path but move away, some were afraid, some saw him as a strange being, and very
few saw the warrior within him, but in the end he walked alone, for that had
been his path since he was a small kid. Back then he wished he could be part of
the rest and have fun, but that was not allowed, he had to become a winner, he
had to succeed above everyone else. And eventually he did, he stood above them
all. But the top is a single player position and he was alone up high.
Back then
the warrior realized he was alone and it hurt, the cold of the lonely winter
hit him hard and made him shiver while the warrior saw those he had surpassed,
they were laughing, they seemed happy even if he went above them and he was now
on top, but he was on top and alone. So he tried to change, he tried to relate
with other people, but they already saw him as a weird one. Then the warrior took
of his armor and once again tried to be a soft cheerful person, but he was
rejected once more and the spear of humiliation pierced through his chest and
it remained there while he looked at them walk away with bright smiles in their
careless faces.
He then got
up and put his armor back on, but the spear was there and it wouldn’t come out.
So the warrior went back on his journey fighting to be successful and winning
most of the time, all that just to realize he was back alone at the top and to
feel the chill of loneliness, because when they raise you to become a fighter
and endure as a winner, they don’t teach you how to live with the emptiness in
the heart. So the warrior tried once and again and again to bound to people
just to find several spears piercing his body and each time he got up his eyes
turned colder and his soul became bitterer. But people didn’t noticed.
So when he
retired out into the mountain he did so, because he needed to shed a tear, he
was looking for a place to remove his armor, a place where no spears would be
sent to him, a place where he could bend and admit he was a human, a lonely
sacred place where he could remember what the emotions were. Joy and happiness
seemed so far away, but sadness was always hidden deep, very deep inside and
shedding those tears made him remember that he was a human and once again he
wished he was like those careless people, happy and joyful. But he faced the
facts once more, he was alone and there was no sanctuary, nobody had took him
and let him cry, he was sensitive and fragile, but he was forced to appear the
other way around because when he appeared as the fragile man he was laughed at
and humiliated and hurt.
So there he
was, crying because people wouldn’t allow him to feel the warmth of love and
the magic of joy, but facing that in the end people would just keep rejecting
him and pushing him away, so this little sanctuary in the middle of the woods
was his safe place where he could become human again and feel his scared heart
as it was left by all those who carelessly threw their spears at him. They
might’ve thought that it was nothing, but it meant something but they didn’t
really cared, he was alone and he needed to be fragile again yet he longed
someone to hold him and say that everything would be alright, someone to say
that he would be protected, but no, he looked and faced the reality that forged
him since he was a child. He was alone.
