It's official: age is no longer a restriction.
I have the anguish and the whole world in front of me.
I used to look outside my windows with admiration,
but now that I have to leave the house I flinch.
Free birds fly for survival,
but for me flying is a choice
and now my mind alternates between
willing to leave and willing to stay.
Sometimes I blaspheme against my dreams
and I regret having unlearned to be satisfied with a little
but the truth is that
Napoleon is a demon that lives inside me
and always wants more and
I can't achieve the world if I just
behold it through the windows of my room.
I must leave.
Free birds fly for survival and I envy them
because for them there is no other option.
Because their minds probably don't alternate between
fear of the unknown and a desire to fly away.
Because their minds probably don't alternate between
frustration and ambition.
Because their minds probably don't alternate between
comparing their own way of flying with others and
wanting to make another bird's way of flying their own,
even though it's wrong
because every bird flies the way it needs to fly
and the comparison is unnecessary.
Because their minds probably don't alternate between
the cry of giving up and anything else.
They are birds and only this they can be.
But what I am I need to find out.
How should I know what I'll be,
I who don't know what I am?
Indeed, we are condemned to be free.
It's official: age is no longer a restriction.
I have the anguish and the whole world in front of me.
It's time to leave the house.
It's time to fly away.
It's time to go.
Goodbye childhood,
goodbye adolescence.