A metaphore

Hearts are bound to be ripped, like, uh, gift-wrapping paper (let there be the metaphore). Just by putting out the wrappings, you can see what lies beneath. Now, if you take the paper carefully out, you'd be acting like an old aunt, saving it from habit -and I hope you are not one of those people that really think about re-using it on someone else's present-. That kind of paper is made to be teared apart, it's the fun of opening gifts up. How valuable, cool, hideous or unrecognizable the thing inside is... that's an apple from another barrel. We wrap the stuff we give, because we are afraid of what the other (and the others onlooking) might think, and we foolishly delay the initial shock with a thin layer of processed wood.

Maybe that's why some friends of mine prefere not to wrap my presents. At least, that's what I think. They come to me openly, and give me what they want to give, and they won't waste time saying things like, how did you like it? Sometimes they'll say, what did you like most about it? What did it make you think? Lend it to me ASAP! Sometimes they'll just wait for me to talk. Sometimes, I won't need to say a word.

I have a vivid memory of all the people that has come to me unwrapped (we are being metaphorical, just so you remember). No presentation cards, no social backgrounds, not feigned enthusiasm. People who hung around freely, for who I was.

Once upon a time, I was busy thinking what would be the perfect package to hide my true self on. And then I got bored, and sticked to being just me. And even though I could see all the flaws and dark spots and blurred zones on my skin, it was fine with me.

It's appealing, the life as a non-wrapped present. I'm not saying the paper-ripping part must be fun for you, by the way. What I'm saying is: get off the damn paper and kick it out. Enjoy yourself. Get a good tan. And laugh at life in the face.

PD: La transleishon se las dejo de tarea porque ya me dio pereza. Los errores son to's míos, de quién más.