Long time no memory and shortcuts, and the world is full contradictions
http://sex-soul.com/2016/09/09/espanol-tiempo-sin-memoria-y-largos-atajos/
Long time no memory and shortcuts
You wake up in the morning and get a huge dose of inconsistency that makes you believe less and less in the human race. So you’re going to compensate the “other end” fully confident in the growth potential of each individual and respect. And in the right balance, overcome the meanness of the headlines that congest the world, you dare to walk on, but at times you feel that rotates too fast to ride it in a natural way. With the still-hot coffee in your stomach, you stumble upon the obvious reality once again and a lady sitting at your side begins to narrate the misfortune that haunts him since childhood gulping knots. Gleanings in tissue paper bag to help you breathe out it dragging for many years, so many that has become entrenched in the chest with a cancer devouring her. You pity her wandering soul, imprisoned in a world that thinks does not want it and repudiates while fervently desires that God take …
I leave the parking and at the first roundabout, the vehicle ahead comes across a wasp which skips the step yield queen bee wanting to nail the sting. Pego a screeching halt (almost eats). And leave me locked in the roundabout “a dead man and a woman lifeless”. He gives a hoot, because nearly ended his neck on the spot and the “lady” exalts him throwing his frustration. I thought his sainted mother did not blame her late for wherever, but he brandished mercilessly was nearing menopause and not very happy in the bedroom. For a few minutes they were projecting the troubles of their lives. You’d think, by the amount of expletives at close range, which was two wild beasts Southwest … But both dressed in their best clothing and college degree ahead, the masks were removed. The line of cars was increasing, no one gave the horn, things got increasingly interesting for a humanity that enjoys seeing heads roll. There were no injuries or deaths, just words. However as they said their souls sentenced. He had married a “good woman,” a woman he could walk hand in hand without tear their hair to go bald. He mortgaged love in exchange for driving a Lexus and hold an executive position in the company of their parents. He filled the cup with poison that would provide, replacing alcohol whenever the rambunctious wasp stuck in your thoughts pose any stop skipping. She had done nothing to having everything and hardly raqueaba between work, children and a husband who despised by far swinging arm to the head of another department to lick the ego once a week. I was forced to see that movie at ringside for three whole minutes, as if he had not seen …
I think some people trampling the asphalt is right, because they often look like other aimless, alarmed, lost and exhausted so much race run, as if they were persecuted by the worst murderers in series, running from something, someone, of life itself … that truth that makes you free? Rare me, for the record, because I do not run, but not sleep. I keep waking to look ahead to the rattlesnake and tie my ego short before a world that too often is too cruel and cowardly for my taste. Rare for those who own convenience have a bad memory, skinny and malnourished, just remember that what matters when you are interested, because remorse is not compatible with your selfishness and moral turpitude. Perhaps, therefore, the word remorse begins to melt in all dictionaries of the world to disappear, doomed to obsolescence from which birth unborn child, denied the bloody banishment of a consciousness that clean is the mendacious and compulsive habit of putting under the carpet as defecates.
No remorse, no truth. Neither honesty and courage. And the little courage with which you walk is saved to throw unscrupulous blame another, who is, anyway, to keep running to wear the soles, exhausted and tired enough to corrupt the soul that you have in front and grabbing his heart to stop a heart attack. Remorse, for most, are not the oceans of guilt that evaporate leaving salt, itchy and smarts until assume responsibility. This salt only felt by those who are smart and choose to learn with humility. The devil is clever, but not clever, and digs his own grave between tequila, miniskirts and Dantesque lines that hide the high bill from a jarring ego which rodenticide that kills. To negotiate with him need to be very foolish and cowardly.
So what really it hurts and punishes, pricks, today, in this world, is the cash. The money is all buying and also sells to individuals through a capitalized ego. A hit book any party, any war, even remorse gains. pensions, maintenances and compensation in exchange for accidents, murder, rape, children abused by a nasty vanity are granted … Broken hearts do not hurt, ever, because if you act it never breaks, even if it hurts, to the maximum it arrives is to understand the freedom that dictates who, no matter how … what breaks is the ego, pride, lack of love … the pride, and the vacuous structure that gives. The heart feels and acts like a child, with the eternal innocence, always wanting to play more. And that does not understand it either, if so humanity not wash away guilt and revenge based scratch or scrape pockets in someone else’s pocket. Nor confine the stormy Hades of human perversion any hint of responsibility. Life goes on, is permanent enjoyment, hedonism unfading, eternal glow of perfection while five hundred euro banknotes circulate. Even perverts the word pronounced under the false promise of marital property that give tranquility to sit back and take root, vetch with luxury apartments, high-end cars and accessories penalty shout whom holds. A cyclical corruption in comfort zones twenty bricks that do not allow anything but carry a pestilential stench of exceeded. To that sulfur is not note and match with terraced house. To “empty men and women lifeless” can continue their wandering, so asleep and trapped in the bitterness of his unconsciousness that condemn to eternal restriction.
Floor the same floor as you, the same asphalt, but my feet are not burned by walk it. No maquillo my scars nor proud that I display war wounds, I learned that pride is killing the soul and conviction. I do not hide, I do not hide, do not wear a mask or waterproof blindfold me daily to justify something, however little something to be. Be apologize when I’m wrong, correct, shout to the four winds “I love you”, to thank life for the most valuable wealth that has given me the ability to be, to love, and not just be, or worse, to appear.
I bit my tongue to the tears of the woman who sobbed through a bitter life that only she lived. “Oh, poor me, how much damage they have made me and others as good …”.
* Perhaps what he has accustomed the world is the lack of love, and incoherence. To contemplate the cruelest view of existence, as if we lived limited, doomed to wander in it carrying one end hedonism to compensate and not be judged. Not one thing nor the other. Love does not tilt the balance in favor or against. Does not generate an income to income statement. That is a thing of ego, vanity, pride. And the powerful knight Don Money crossing any threshold. Of those who look in the mirror to see a pretty face and a body sculpted base gym or scalpel and displayed like mannequins in a glass case.
I firmly believe that we must be sun, but the sky is cloudy. Who gives life to my body is my heart and that he alone speaks for my soul. Contemplate existence as a chess game; black and white, in which one wins who is willing to learn. And it would be foolish if we truly believe that every fact, every person, every moment, does not serve a reason. Really completely I lose my essence if sharpened tongue instead of extending a Kleenex. If you renege on my own human condition and lapidara compassion towards a given bad and untimely slap. I believe in eye contact, but in the first mirror, in chiseled oneself through hard work and perseverance, to practice outdoor exercise a healthy sincerity without hurting anyone. In the former coherence that reveals who is and will be.
I understand any process of alchemy, healing. The thirst for a malnourished and wounded ego, indigestion, indigestion, smug pride macabre dreams of revenge; the absence of love. I understand, but I can not fit anyone would want to stay there, stuck, circling, spiraling, quite simply, out of fear of the unknown, afraid to expand, to grow, for convenience. I can hardly fit someone refuses to live, to be reduced to a “poor me” that feeds on a culprit. That people travel in a sports to forget the love of your life or will be unfaithful to your partner because it is not able to hold back ten seconds look in the mirror. I can hardly fit cowardice, that I want, but I can not if I can not love you, that string of absurd justifications that sometimes give us not love or love of truth. Sometimes it’s hard to understand the world, posing my feet and walk, but if there is something that fascinates me is grow me in adversity.
Contradictions is the world full, we live in duality and now plays go.
Dácil Rodríguez
Natural from Santa Cruz of Tenerife, Canary Island
Author of novel: Where is the man of my life?
facebook.com/dacil.rodriguez
Copyright © Dácil Rodríguez - All rights reserved.
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