MORIUVENAL (IN THE LIMELIGHT): DRAMATIC SHOW OF DEFENESTRATION

SCENE I

I sing about the human war of the inside, fought in the stillness of our stormy souls. Windy crying of desire. I cannot deny this impulse that invades me, while, propped up on the windowsill, my chaotic eyes are dazzled by the blinking traffic of the city below, under the caliginous shroud of the night. However, I am unable to do so, since the well of tears that lied in me had dried up some time ago. Yet, if there is something that I am capable of – yes – it is to defenestrate from here. I confess that I exceeded the limit. Tiredness no longer strengthens me. I can no longer deal with those complex wounds and their ways of becoming pale marks only to bleed over and over again. Is there any point in insistently continuing to subsist in a meaningless world? Nowadays I do not think so. However, at some point in my life, I thought so.

I find myself in the final stage of life's proscenium, where its line ends dramatically. I feared the unknown. But, as time went by, that feeling faded. Now I'm about to meet it. I hope it is receptive, as an old friend is. May it receive me lovingly as the motherly heart. There is no trace of fear in me anymore. Well! They say the world is a great theater stage and in it we are actors playing life roles. But are you aware of the fact that we are able to leave the character whenever we want to? Refuse the roles that are imposed on us? Change them? Or even refuse to play any role? I opt for that last option. I am decided. There is nothing you all can do but watch this show. However, this action you will witness only in the final scene of the fourth and final act. Until then, while I am still not swallowed by the mouth cloth of the life's stage, I will tell you the trajectory of my existence. How did I get here? Who am I? I imagine you must be wondering. I have a lot to tell. Don't worry, I'll let you know about the events that preceded this finalistic moment of mine, but only those that I think are relevant. Ah! These memories, despite the short time, seem so far away now, deteriorated in my putrefied mind. Ah! Before I forget, I would like to emphasize that I do not succumb to the duty of leaving you impressed with what I have to say. This I do not compromise myself. If you like it, good then. If you don't... Amen! I will only feel sorry for wasting your precious time. If it is possible to feel anything once in the afterlife! Anyway, let that be said beforehand. Now, without further ado...

Well, I incarnated at the beginning of the 21st century, exactly on the fourth day of April. My grandmother accompanied my mother in labor. She always told me the same story: she checked the time on her wristwatch and it showed 4:03 in the morning. After exactly one minute – which passed in the blink of an eye, according to her ­­ I was born. From my mother's cozy womb, I came to this nefarious world in a screeching eruption of revolt, with explosive flashes violetly blue.

Between the compound Veter Evanesco and the one Moriuvenal, this one was chosen. One worse than the other, aren't they? However, I was lucky to have been nominated with the worst of the two, in my opinion. Veter Evanesco? No, thank you. My mother was undecided between the two, actually. Then she told me that, to make up her mind, she cut two strips of paper and wrote each of the names on them. She took the empty glass that had come with the hospital meal and placed the two strips, already folded, inside, and, with one hand covering the mouth of the glass, she gave four quick swings and removed one of the strips. After unfolding it, it read: Moriuvenal. She told me that her maternal instincts made her want more Veter Evanesco than the chosen one, actually. But as Moriuvenal had come out in the little draw she made, she conformed to the determination of fate.

You may be wondering about my father, right? As far as I know, when my mother got pregnant, she was abandoned by him. He vanished under the crust of the world. I never met him. I don't care either. I never missed him anyway. The only time I remembered the word "father" was on Father's Day and, at the time of primary years, we had to write letters to our parents. I made and gave them all to my grandfather, when he was still alive.