I am a live

Who are you? Yes, You! the person who’s reading this not knowing why the hell is he/she actually doing this. Are you alone? Why do you instantly think that I’m asking about the closest spacial proximity, how about the building, the city, the country, the world, life? Are you alive? How often? Are you a man? A real one? What do I mean? So you’re not…or maybe you’re a woman, which means 3 seconds ago you smiled. Are you happy? ok, let’s skip this one. Are you mad? about something or someone and you’re just wasting time around (reading this) thinking time will give you the answer? well, it does, every day and mostly every morning. Are you a morning person? if not, you’re not listening to the right music. Are you clean? As a whole? Are you complete? Are you simple? like nothing you can think of right now, but everything you can imagine? Are you a horse? What color?

When I was 6, I received a birthday present from my grandmother and my parents (I think), a counting mechanism, very colorful one (the red i remember the most), simple one, used in shops at the cash register long time ago, still used in my country and I still have no idea how it works. My gradmother asked me “are you happy?” I was, it was colourful. I hated math. I still do.
Are You happy? Sorry, I needed to get back to this.
Are you? throw a coin.

Are you a pervert? in your mind, dreams, bed? Are you close? to what you want. i’m sure there is something eatable close to you. Are you a dreamer? don’t wake up, don’t wake up, don’t wake up…crap! Are you aware of your soul? How? Are you aware of your ears? Do you hear? do you hear the world, YOUR world…Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen Listen L i s t e n _ __ ____!
Did you know then when you write a word a lot of times it starts to seem wrongly spelt? Try it. I know you won’t. Are you fat? you must hate summer. I love it. Are you insane? Are you my friend? How often?

Are you YOU? really? i am amazed, no matter what the answer.
Are you still here? for how long? so you’re about to die. No, fool, i am not asking are you here on that chair/sofa/floor/bed/carpet/window. I am also on a chair, not a very good one, it’s from my kitchen and it’s uncomfortable like hell…yes, hell is uncomfortable, because it’s upside down. I am here X

Imagine the interview of your life:
-Hello.
-Hello.
-Take a sit.
-Thank you.
-Coffee?
-Tea.
-Sugar?
-No. I am very glad to be here.
-We don’t have “I’m very glad to be here” sugar.
(forced laugh, from you)
-Who are you?
-I’m sorry? (who am I? who am I? who am I? who am I? jduzguykgakweugfwugjbcMHBkjUGKJABSJJBZXJKBGKJUBDSJBJVKZJBSJBDKVJHBAJUGBV Ncsbzjhbjbvjkejvjbvzjs,j,j,jbszv,jheluycgauwgwlekbjlbvjaugwbacwjbvlugevlabwjevbliug……..)
-Who are you?
-aaaaa (msnbvdkjagwkugvekjbac,jblwekugvbjbalkvuzgjk) … well, I (stop there!).

We tend do feel insulted when someone, out of the blue or green or dark green, asks us “who are you”? Insulted = first you think “what do you mean who I am, can’t you see?” then you fast, very fast look for a smart answer, you think “this answer is important, it’s gonna define me, it’s what this asshole will remember of me…who am I? who am I? who am I? who am I?) ok, nothing comes to my mind…shit, I am nothing…I can’t say that. I am not nothing!…this guy thinks he’s smart…shit…why, after all (?), is he asking me this? who the hell is he? = Insulted.

I was asked twice in my life.
First time, it was a singer, good looking, not very good looking. Friend of a friend’s brother. True story. I wanted an autograf. He asked me holding a pen, my pen, “for whom? who are you?” “well, i don’t know, I am Cristina” I still have his autograf and above it “for Cristina, who doesn’t know who she is”. Oh, I felt insulted. I still have it.
Second time, few days ago, a guy who wanted to flirt with me, asked me crawling next to me like a cat “who are you?…I smiled (this smile said: you are not getting anything)…and I answered “I am Cristina” very convinced. Oh, I was disappointed. He wasn’t. He didn’t get my smile or my lack of imagination.
Do you know why we don’t really say the first thing that comes to our minds, because it’s funny, not stupid, funny…for others. We would love to shout it, scream it until we get hemoroids and then become “THAT, with hemoroids”…which is even funnier…for others. You know what’s the funiest part: the answer you actually give.

Who are you? Are you a smoker? Are you a dancer? always be! Are you black?…we all are inside our noses. Are you white? winter is taken. Are you fast? ok, you need more condoms. Are you a color? green is overrated. Are you hungry? I just went to kitchen. Got some cereals, milk, watermelon and sugar…all in one bowl. It’s 20.51. I’m hungry. Are you a fighter? Who’s the enemy? Are you my friend?

When I was in High School, a train hit me. I was shocked. Very. Everyone was fakely worried, because I knew that was funny as hell…yes, hell is funny, because it’s upside down. I started to cry. Like a small baby. My teacher, of religion, asked me “why are you crying? are you hurt?” “no, I am alive”.
I am a live. I am a dreamer. I am a dancer. I am a river. I am a map. I am a palm. I am a tree. I am a book. I am a scar. I am a cat. I am a window. I am a child. I am a melon. I am a wish. I am a dot. I am a miracle. I am a paradox. I am a frog. I am a plug. I am a calendar. I am a needle. I am a word. I am love. I am a piece.
I am a naked man on a bicycle. I am a bracelet. I am a song. I am a drug. I am skin. I am a tomato from your last night salad. I am a bird. I am a mirror. I am a nose, full of dust. I am a virus. I am a dark stain on a wedding dress. I am a cake. I am a violin. I am a lamp. I am a pocket. I am a superhero. I am the left foot. I am a blanket. I am a cup of tea, black with honey and milk. I am a monster, made of jelly. I am a clown, without a nose. I am a fish, on a wall. I am a star, somewhere. I am an open door of a room with no flowers. I am a belly button without a hole. I am a caramel candy. I am a beginner. I am a note, La. I am an astronaut, under water, in a bathtub. I am a field…endless. I am a red lip on a black and white party. I am a pen. I am a circle. I am a poker card, under the table, under a shoe, man shoe, size 44. I am an eye. Sometimes blue, sometimes green, sometimes. I am a seeker. I am a puzzle, of more then 10. 000 pieces. I am a joke. I am a world.
I am a question: who are you?