He tried to enter the city a few times. He did, though not by an irrepressible desire, not even by the apathy of his situation, but rather, by a mere instinct of change. Yet he always chose the wrong door. Many times he came to believe that he had entered the city, and perhaps he did, but he couldn’t be absolutely certain about it; it was as if next to this real city there were exact images replicating it. These pictures (or illusions) were inconsistent. They were like shadows in the eyes of the man that became increasingly dense. And when those images faded, it was again the desert that surrounded the man.
The man believed in the predestination of life. Being out of the town for him was an accident, a temporary situation. One day, on the exact day, not before or after that, he will enter the city. Or in other words: he will enter anywhere, any place that could give reason and purpose to his long wait. He believed that there would be an end, a simple end that would give meaning to his entire life.
The man did not know that these types of cities, surrounded by huge walls, are not taken without a fight. He didn’t know that before the battle for the conquest there was a preliminary one, in which he had to be victorious. And in this first fight he had to battle against himself. See, nobody knows anything about itself before the action that leads one to its own limits. We don’t know the power of the sea until it moves.
The battle began. As in the poems of Homer, the gods were also part of it. They fought for and against, and sometimes against each other. The man who struggled to live within the walls of the city crossed swords and words with the gods. He wounded and was wounded. And the fight lasted many months, long days without truce or rest. Sometimes they battled alongside the walls, others so far away that no one could even see the city.
Until one day, the battlefield was free and clear. The man, who was bleeding, and the only god that had remained to his side looked at those gold, beautiful, opened doors. There was absolute silence in the city. Scared, the man started to walk. To his side was the god. They entered.
There was once a man who lived outside the city walls. And that city was himself. The City of Cristobal, if we want to give it a name.
Accepting myself (entering the city) has been exceedingly hard for me, and I’m recovering myself from the overwhelming battle.