All his life he had been an unfortunate inability to see himself in the multiple mirrors of existence, because he never experienced a moment that was of joy, admiration, even a silly sliver of pride. He saw himself as a petty little person, without any grace and, on the contrary, he always faced the horrors he saw condemned by the influencers of behavior: short, chubby, bald, features in which not even the pity of makeup disguised the absent attributes of beauty or something that came close to it, even if very far away.
Everything about him was average or forgettable: bland humor, shallow culture, bland tastes and vocations for little more than the inexpressiveness of a low-paying job and skills that added little value to life's surroundings. His relationships were pages of sameness and disappointment for the rare passerby in his life, although there was a sincere effort in him to captivate everyone's loves and to make up for the usual dislikes.
His refuge was limitless dreaming, much more with eyes open in wakefulness and active awareness than the dreams that the busy mind of dawn brought to mitigate gaps and disappointments.
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He dreamed freely of an “I” that he did not see in himself but that he appreciated very much and for whom everything was possible, from capturing the gaze of a beautiful girl from silent encounters in the elevator of the building in which they both lived to intense brightness as the focus of attention in the conversation circles in bars and social events for which their presence was vehemently claimed and appreciated as if they had all the very delicious flavors of this world. Good dreams to dream!
Now, by virtue of that morning's metamorphosis, thin, a model's body as a counterpoint to the mermaids that only the photoshops of life could sculpt, abundant hair, in the desired waves like those that followed on the beaches of demanding surfers, all this topped by their own features. from the opening of the…photoshop presentation, finally gatérrimo and heart racing by the extraordinary surprise. Now it was a good dream to feel fulfilled and his chest was exulting in that moment.
Rising from the bed to enjoy his new “I”, he felt that he was touching a body that he discovered to be that of a sleeping person who at the same moment remembered being a silent creature that had accompanied him for many years. And, looking at her more closely, he felt a contradictory feeling of surprise and affection at the same time. He didn't know it, but he was on the threshold of a terrible decision: to get up faster and fall into the world to give life to the happiness he knew possible from now on, or to lie down again along with the memories that gravitated around the sleeping body beside him. .
In the first decision, it would be the new “I” to be the epicenter of everything, erasing even the vestiges of the original, untransformed “I”, while in the opposite decision, its characteristics would remain that reduced it to very little levels of consciousness. self esteem. What made him hesitate, since such had been the transformation, in everything obedient to what had been inhabiting his dreams? The answer was in an almost imperceptible murmur, escaped from that sleeping body, which said only “…love…” . And it was a moment of discovery: he had always been loved for what he was and hadn't realized it, hence the refuge in escapist dreams.
Carefully, he lay down again, once more (certainly the last time…) running his fingers through the waves of hair he wanted, he settled himself beside the sleeping body, closed his eyes and silently asked that it was all just a dream that the pious self-defense of the human mind takes care of erasing in the seconds before awakening. When forwarding the request to he didn't know exactly who, he realized that he had in fact completed the most extraordinary of metamorphoses: the discovery that the most acute of them only leads to becoming the best of what has always been... be yourself, but resignified.
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