What kind of man do you choose to be?

When we are small, we listen and then we read stories. Stories about princes and princesses, about kites, about fairies, about kings and queens. Stories about good and bad.

And behind them, we remain with the impression that always good overcomes evil, that love is gaining, and that life ends in happiness, somewhere far away, to "old age." And in our purity of children, we begin to weave the happy story of our own lives.
We project our minds on the screen of ourselves in the future as the main characters of our beautiful stories. We create expectations and dream of love, eternal love, a prince to save us, a princess to wake up with a kiss, a kite to be defeated, a castle to conquer.
And in our minds, every end is happy.
When we are small, we do not want to hear the big ones who see us writing the magic of a storyline, telling us that we are dreamers, that life is tough, that the world is bad, that in the end it never comes out like that you wish.
Because they understand it from living, and in the desire to protect us from future disappointments, I believe that such warnings will be of use to us and will keep us from suffering in the future.
Although we refuse to obey, we hear what we say, and on the tape of our existence we record everything that is repeated to us and save those things on the compilation of our own lives.

And as we grow up, we get out of the way.
And somehow, we can not beat all of them. Nor can we conquer castles as in stories.
And like in such moments, the gang of existence begins to spin inward and "sing" what it has ever recorded. And we repeat it, and some of us give way to her pressure.
And for those who have fallen, it seems that reality starts to look more like the tape than with its own stories.
And then they feel betrayed, helpless, disappointed.
And consequently, these people delete the happy script, delete the action in which good overcomes evil everywhere.

In such moments, they get to forget the old stories and start writing the script of their own dramas.
Dramas in which evil overcomes good, dramas in which they are no longer their heroes, dramas in which there is no love anymore, dramas in which they fall on the battlefield with their soul wounded and torn, feeling completely unjust. Dramas in which people hate people, dramas in which people hurt people.

Because here we get when we do not believe in the good and the happy end.
Here we come when we no longer have hope, when we no longer believe in love, when we are completely disappointed.

People who no longer believe in stories, no longer believe in themselves.
They are beaten and retreated into a protective shell from where they watch the more brave ones continue to write their own stories.

There is a duality in the world and it seems that it is best reflected in the people that live.
There are people who are in their shell, fearful, and brave and bold people who assume their role as protagonists in their own stories.

The former are often lost.
They risk nothing. They feel lonely and helpless and they see themselves in a very nasty way.
They are people who, instead of becoming better, choose to scatter the ugly to others.
Because it's apparently simpler than storing stories. And then these people choose to observe everything that is not done "perfectly" by others to escape contact with their self.
To be in touch with them would mean accepting their own fears, their own defects, their own mistakes, their own battles lost to the battlegrounds with which they fought.
And it seems easier to project inability and insecurity over others.

But there are people who do things to go, people who fight with kites and go on in their madness to conquer castles and live lovers despite the dramas and obstacles that come in their way despite the distrustful and which hinder them.

And I know that every man can choose which barricade he wants to live with.
Everyone can choose what kind of man he wants to be, what kind of story he wants to write.
Because, in essence, we all have the same resources.
Only physical and intellectual limitations are obstacles to the development of a human being.
But here too we find examples of how you can write a beautiful story with fewer resources than others.
And where it can not, there is compassion and help from the lucky ones, like us.
The most important thing in life is to know that you always have the choice of what kind of man you want to be.

Do you choose to hunt the imprints of others, highlight what others are doing wrong, or choose to laugh at positive intentions, actions and behaviors, beyond the inevitability that we all inevitably do at a certain moment?

Do you choose to criticize and judge, hiding under your shell, or highlighting the qualities, potential, resources of others?

Do you choose to wring your wings and put obstacles, or choose to spread love and beautiful words, to create bridges and to build something beautiful and beautiful?

Sometimes we tend to get lost.
At the first obstacle that life puts us in the way, at the first difficulty, or after several missed battles, we succumb to life. Forget about stories, forget about happiness.
And as frustration pushes us to sabotage the others with the hidden hope that if they fail, we will be more peaceful with ourselves, finding an excuse for not trying to do more with our lives.

But in fact, to give others the opportunity to shine, it also helps us shine. Most of the time, seeing beauty in others helps us to see it better in us as well.
Often, accepting and validating the qualities of others, helps us see and accept our own qualities.
Encouraging others to continue after they are wrong, it helps us to accept our mistakes more easily and to go further.

I think life helps us to build our own fortresses more than to channel our energy into destroying the fortresses of others. And building up means shattering goodness.
As we can, wherever we can, when we can.
Because by goodness we can write stories with a happy ending.