If a genie from a bottle came and told me that he could grant me a wish, I would tell him to split me in two.

One would be: the one who feels pain, who accepts, who is correct, who cries, who walks, who endures, who is patient, who does things, who doesn’t sleep, who tells the truth, who doesn’t shout, who apologizes without being guilty, the one who loves and cares for you, who carries an ant to a pot so it doesn’t die, who genuinely misses.

The other: the one who laughs, who breaks walls, who destroys, who is shameless, who doesn’t suffer, who doesn’t obey, who is tough, who lies subtly, who escapes, who dances, sleeps, and gets drunk, who is resentful, who doesn’t fall in love again, who hates humanity.

Then I would bring them both together in a bar to chat and share how they’re doing.

And in the end, they would always toast, saying, “to the life we’ve been given“…