Ella vive en una mazmorra del ala oeste del castillo. El más profundo y oscuro. Es prisionera de sus miedos, de orgullos y perjuicios. Tiene tanto miedo de escapar que su calabozo no tiene llave, ella solo se queda. Mira a su al rededor y solo tiene una pequeña ventana, ventana que utiliza de cuando en cuando para observar a lo lejos como avanza el exterior, lo que fue su mundo alguna vez; como avanza su otra yo, la que la le cortó las alas. Aquella insegura e idiota mujer que por una ilusión de seguridad la hizo prisionera de sí misma, la hizo convencer que su vida era un error, que su proceder era inadecuado, que nadie la aceptaría, que nadie la querría. Qué no sabía hacer nada, que no servía para nada. A cambio la mantiene a penas con vida para que mire. Sólo mire.
She lives in a dungeon in the west wing of the castle. The deepest and darkest. She is a prisoner of her fears, of pride and prejudice. She is so afraid to escape that her dungeon has no key, she just stays. She looks around her and only has a small window, a window that she uses from time to time to observe from afar how the outside is advancing, what was once her world; how her other self is advancing, the one that cut her wings. That insecure and idiotic woman who for an illusion of security made her a prisoner of herself, made her convince that her life was a mistake, that her behavior was inadequate, that no one would accept her, that no one would love her. That she didn't know how to do anything, that she was good for nothing. In exchange, he kept her barely alive so that she would look. Just watch.
Ha tenido oportunidades de escapar. Ella tiene marcas de guerras pasadas y al mirarlas y acariciarlas recuerda con un suspiro y reconoce un atisbo de fuerza. Cree que quizá con un poco de esmero podría salir de allí y tomar su lugar nuevamente pero la pobre siente tanto temor, ella considera que no es solo salir, si no enfrentarse a todo lo que vendría luego y eso podría ser aún peor. Se conforma con saber que la otra está bien, está cómoda en lo que ha construido. Se siente tranquila reinando en su falsa felicidad y al no salir de su zona de confort, no la ha necesitado para luchar. Tiene la certeza que en algún momento la necesitará nuevamente y allí serán una, pero ¿Cuándo? La última vez, la otra notó algo que ella no logró apreciar: si le invitase a subir, florecería de las sombras y volvería a ser fuerte, a iluminarse pero, no le fue difícil ocultárselo, sabe como manejarla. La sedujo un día y sumergida en un mar de manipulación, falso consuelo y traición le robó su espíritu y quebrantó un pedazo de su alma.
She has had opportunities to escape. She has marks from past wars and as she looks at them and caresses them she remembers with a sigh and recognizes a glimmer of strength. She thinks that maybe with a little care she could get out of there and take her place again but the poor thing feels so afraid, she reckons it's not just getting out, it's facing everything that would come after and that could be even worse. She is content to know that the other is fine, she is comfortable in what she has built. She feels at ease reigning in her false happiness and by not leaving her comfort zone, she hasn't needed it to fight. She is certain that at some point she will need her again and there they will be one, but when? Last time, the other noticed something she failed to appreciate: if she invited him up, he would blossom out of the shadows and become strong again, enlightened but, it wasn't hard for him to hide it from her, he knows how to handle her. He seduced her one day and submerged her in a sea of manipulation, false comfort and betrayal he stole her spirit and broke a piece of her soul.
Ella antes fue la más grande y valiente. No le temía a nada, era invencible, libre, llena de color y fortaleza. Danzaba por su mundo venciendo batallas y en un mísero descuido le clavaron una flecha con un veneno peculiar, uno que no mata, al contrario, te alarga la vida pero a un costo muy alto. Te arranca todo tu poder y quedas aletargado en el tiempo hasta que no tienes fuerza ni para continuar en pie. Fue entonces cuando la llevó a ese lugar lúgubre que es su hogar ahora.
She was once the greatest and bravest. She feared nothing, she was invincible, free, full of color and strength. She danced through her world winning battles and in a miserable carelessness she was hit by an arrow with a peculiar poison, one that does not kill, on the contrary, it extends your life but at a very high cost. It takes away all your power and you are lethargic in time until you do not even have the strength to continue standing. It was then that he took her to the dreary place that is now her home.
Con piedrillas del suelo traza su vida en los muros negros para no olvidarse, escribe los títulos de sus combates y guerras, entona sus himnos en soledad pero ya ni voz le sale. Un susurro inaudible que se lleva el eco y la debilita. Ella tiene miedo de escucharse, ella tiene miedo de ser escuchada.
Pasa las noches llorando en vela; sus entrañas le gritan que escape, la pequeña voz de su cabeza le implora que salga, que ella puede recuperarse, que su reino la aclama, pero tiene el brazo marcado con el sello de la vergüenza, aquel que reflejaría su vulnerabilidad. Ella tiene miedo de volver a equivocarse. Ella no soportaría otra falla. La desgarraría.
Ella vive en mi cabeza, ella tiene nombre.
Ese nombre es ...
Cleyna.
With pebbles from the ground he traces his life on the black walls so as not to forget, he writes the titles of his combats and wars, he intones his hymns in solitude but not even his voice comes out. An inaudible whisper that carries away the echo and weakens her. She is afraid to listen to herself, she is afraid to be heard.
She spends her nights crying awake; her insides scream at her to escape, the small voice in her head implores her to come out, that she can recover, that her kingdom acclaims her, but her arm is marked with the seal of shame, the one that would reflect her vulnerability. She is afraid of making a mistake again. She would not endure another failure. It would tear her apart.
She lives in my head, she has a name.
That name is ...
Cleyna.
Banner creado en Canva e imagen extraída de la fuente.
