I think I want a paper boat. One with no paddle. I think I don’t want any night tables. I think I could perfectly live without drawers, compartments and surfaces on which can be found empty pill boxes and packages without cigarettes that go unnoticed for days and days. I think I could also live without the bed. I think it would be so very healthy if I had nowhere to hide bottles and dirty glasses stained of regrets and pity for my own person.
I think that instead of soul we have each one of us a huge library with shelves from top to bottom, big locked cabinets, boxes filled with paperwork, doors on which signs like “Access denied” or “Come later” or “Do not disturb” hang. Locks, dusty books, new books, books without covers, scratched or cut, with no sheets, yellowed by time, old travel journals, books with old or shiny pictures, a hanging plant in the corner that no one ever has time to water, the old man with black fingers from ink printing, the 60 years old maid working in the loans department, dozens and dozens of compartments with book descriptions and files.
I think I’d like to believe in something. I think today is a good day, like a good decision that is not canceling those other many, good or bad, decisions left behind. I think that it will never be better than this and that I should thank the Divine Power that I exist, I know that the chances for life to change are minimal. I thought that I repressed my childhood pretty well. I think you pressed the wrong button and my head is full of mud again. Well, more than usual.
I think there’s no point in hiding. You have all the keys.
300 words, memyselfandela, 2013