Beyond My Wooden Self

What happens now that I have flesh?

I’m telling lies and that is obvious. My nose is a betray of thoughts cacophonous. I want to be like other kids. My wooden body I’d like to kill. But not because the material doesn’t matter. It’s just that being is much wider. Just like humans, I am delusional. I mock myself as if it was easier. It’s not without cost. All routes have one, right God? I know I often am naive. I used to believe that things are made for laughing or grief. I think they just are, they just manifest. My interpretation shapes all the rest. I work hard for that demanding title, for the “good boy” to become my trophy-label. But that strange term I chase to catch, It’s not so clear, It’s formed by dust. And then the wind of another viewpoint, changes most of the grains’ positioning. So, then what is the purpose? It’s not to serve another boss. It’s finding me, real me, by struggling, by understanding wholly, by realizing what I can be beyond the body’s material. Oh, it’s so hard to fight for the next range! But watch what is gradually happening: my toil responsibly triumphs over blinding. I uncover some kind of a fallacy which made me believe my wooden world was all there is. I went beyond what I was when Geppetto’s sculpting finished in his lab. Because while trying to accept my substance, I learned more things about who I am. So, what else is my story, if not another hymn to metamorphosis? My willpower and Geppetto’s love; a meaningful symbiosis. It’s never just one factor that leads next to the Great Conductor. That marvelous “syn”, for Greeks “together”, is a prerequisite for the right substances to gather. To mix themselves without losing uniqueness, autonomy, independence. Without freedom, life is torture; I love for myself first and that’s what nurtures all I offer to others, letting them also be themselves. Healthy love doesn’t demand; it doesn’t expect something in return. It feeds the one who experiences it, no matter how the other reacts to it. And now, what? I ended up in flesh. I am a boy like my human friends. Adventures, pain, experiences, a Fairy, traumas, and healing in. But, I see that humans aren’t without worries, so there’s more for them and me than the adventures of my recent stories. What’s next then? I thought my tale was ended. Oh you, rounded routes and spirals, where are you taking me? I think I’ll stop whining, I’ll dive into the new path. Who knows? I may find what more I can become.

Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives