Floating... The winter sunset.

In some x day the boy was walking down the beach, far away from where he came he saw an old man lying down on the ground. The kid, who for months took that route and had never seen anyone, got surprised. He then went to the old man, already set with his both arms over his head and singing some kind of lullabye and asked who was he. The man then said that he was nobody, with a soft, calm and nice voice which could put a bear to sleep. The little boy felt secure enough to ask what was he doing there, then. And that was when the man said: 'changes'. The boy felt a little bit awkward, and replied with simple words and a trembling voice, saying that he did not understand what did the old man mean with 'changes'. After all, he asked what the man was doing.
The old man firmed his arms on the sand and stood up. Looked firmly to the boy and asked: 'how old are you, my son?'. I'm nine, said the kid. 'But I'm smarter than my sister, and she is eleven!' he quickly added. The man laughed. 'Okay', he said, 'I'll exaplain'.
- Come with me, she said. - I will take you for a drive, you don't have to be so tense. And so they got on the dark red car on the other side of the street. Driving through the principal avenue, in the darkness of the sky and the coldness of that dawn he started to cry, almost still, just letting the tears stream down his face. - Please, may I put some music? Asked the boy. - Hey, what's going on? Why are you crying? She asked back. He didn't answer, but the look on his face while the wind blowing on his hair could tell.
- Talk to me. Said the girl. - Sometimes I feel like... I feel like I have nothing to fight for, I feel like something inside of me is changing, but I cannot change, I feel like I have to, but I just can't. I don't know how nor why, not even where. This makes a consufion inside of me, I start to feel like I'm just losing it, like I'm blank. Not white, not black, blank. I feel like I changed, and from the inside, I am someone new, this new boy, this new beautiful boy who's grown inside of me, but from the outside I am just the same. I mean, I wish someone could just see me, the inside me. But they just seem to see the outside me. Are you following? I'm just crazy, ain't I? This is bullshit, sorry, I'm just being a crybaby or whatever... Disembosomed the boy. - Shut it! She quickly replied. - Listen, this is you, this is your inside you talking to me. This is what you're feeling, and just for this, shut it. It's not bullshit. You may be losing it, indeed, but this is not bullshit. People have the habit to refer to their own feeling as bullshit or any stupid adjective, just like you did. But if that wasn't important enough to themselves, they weren't even talking about that in first place. People are people, feelings are feelings, and people. You get it? It's like a song, or a symphony. The composer build it with his best, with his heart, so he will never say his song is bad, unless it really is, but in that case, he is not going to play that for the public, right? But now, let me say a little thing about your consufion. Listen, big things, important things don't always happen fast, when it's about people, it's a slow process, which takes patience, self control, takes rationality. You are growing up, you may have grown this beautiful boy inside of you, but to let him out for the world, you have to grow a beautiful boy outside too. Do you get the word? You are growing, and it's not easy, not even a bit. It's not clear, it's not a flash. It's a confusing process, a hard process which takes time. 'Boy, don't you worry, you'll find yourself... Follow your heart and nothing else'. The girl said, in a soft and slow timbre while the boy was waking up in the middle of the night in his cold bedroom, with the image of that pretty face, telling him things in a way nobody had ever done before. - Thank you, he said. Putting his head back on the tear marked pillow. Good night.