DIES SLOWLY by Martha Medeiros
He who becomes the slave of habit,
who follows the same routines every day,
who never changes pace,
who does not risk and change the color of his clothes,
who does not speak and does not experience,
dies slowly.
He who shuns passion,
who prefers black and white,
dotting his i’s rather than a whirlwind of emotions, the kind that make your eyes glimmer,
that turn a yawn into a smile,
that make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings,
dies slowly.
He who does not overthrow the table when is he is unhappy at work,
who does not risk certainty for uncertainty,
to thus follow a dream,
who does not forego sound advice at least once in his life,
dies slowly.
He who does not travel, who does not read,
who does not listen to music,
who does not find grace in himself,
dies slowly.
He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
who does not allow himself to be helped,
who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck, about the rain that never stops,
dies slowly.
He who abandons a project before starting it, who fails to ask questions on subjects he doesn't know, he who doesn't reply when he is asked something he does know,
dies slowly.
Let’s try and avoid death in small doses,
reminding ourselves that being alive requires an effort far greater than the simple fact of breathing.
Only a burning patience will lead
to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
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