After so many years, of everything that I have lived, I feel locked up, trapped in this prison called life. It is in some measure a peculiar prison I have to admit, unlike a normal prison this changes, although after so much carrying in it you begin to see a pattern, although it changes, the variety of this is so scarce that it does not take long to notice it.
Like a kaleidocycle, if you constantly change the faces it will be difficult for you to really notice how many faces there are, because when you are in motion you do not analyze them and you just let yourself go, fascinated by their colors and shapes, but if you stop for a moment and analyze and memorize each of their faces you will notice that they are not as many as you imagined or so different from each other.
That is what we call life, everything you have lived, from childhood to today, are the faces of a kaleidocycle, when you are young everything happens quickly and you are even happy in that prison where you do not even know who you are, but agree time passes, the colors stop being so flashy and everything starts to move slower, and that's when you realize that it's a whole cycle, the same faces repeating themselves, and knowing that you are trapped, feeling that you are in a prison everything becomes worse, you lose the joy of ignorance, being able to see the patterns, noticing the faces makes you totally lose the joy that you previously felt living between those cycles.
Now, being aware of how everything repeats itself, over and over again, it makes you feel less and less, it hurts not only the fact of being trapped, after all you have always been, what really hurts is that you can no longer enjoy it and you cannot forget it, even when you know all the joy that you would bring the simple fact of ignoring everything, you can't, even if you try and let yourself be carried away by ignorance, the colors will feel opaque and the repetitive faces, even if you let yourself go, even if it is deep within you, you will know that all that feels false, no matter how hard you think about how you like those colors, those faces, you will know that you lie, because no matter how good a liar you consider yourself, lying to yourself is impossible, even more when you see it, you feel it, as each cycle passes, it becomes monotonous and you totally lose that capacity for astonishment that abounds in your childhood or youth.
