Photo courtesy of @karelnt
Hello dear friends, almost every day I try to publish some of my writings. There are times that I lock myself in this imaginary world to create certain stories for myself, most of them are my moods, like this one that I invite you to read below. I apologize in advance for the ending, it's nothing personal, it would be more with my conscience. Its title is "Have the end of my ideas come?"
My pen must be jealous of me, I barely touch it and when I do, only worthless ideas are born, like now. Confused ideas and thoughts that only I can understand. Perhaps I suffer from a temporary amnesia, caused by the way of life I lead, and I recognize that by trying to give fertility to my thoughts and ideas as I used to do, I vaguely manage to weave together a lot of useless words that any human being endowed with the slightest iota of intelligence, I would notice its transparent incoherence. I can't highlight anything that attaches me, of what is withering me (perhaps internally I still don't understand it) from my roots outwards and I recommend myself very gradually in unison with my life.
Putting it bigger, maybe it's not temporary amnesia and I was worried, maybe it's that I'm consuming myself sunk in an underworld in which I never accepted being. In that place with towering walls painted Why? and very long curtains adorned with mediocre reasoning, or simply in enormous rooms, full of irrational empty newspapers, with absolutely nothing to read in them.
It terrifies me to think that conformism took root in me, taking the place of magical spirituality and it makes me sad to see that I can't get my real image, not even in mirrors.
I have spent all my years, my entire life, clinging to writings that were born from certain moments and moods. It comforted me to unburden myself in them and found total peace. Writing was always my forte and today, I can no longer concentrate on what I write. And to you, whoever you are, do not be tormented if you read all this, first of all, I apologize for your lack of conscience for invading intimate thoughts that do not concern you and in a second and last plane, I ask you for a favor, since you are a creature that respects so little the privacy of thoughts, that you send me an SOS and answer me, if you can: "What am I becoming?"
I hope it has been to your liking. I will read your reviews to always improve. Greetings and a huge hug from Cuba.
Spanish version
Hola queridos amigos, casi todos los días trato de publicar algunos de mis escritos. Hay veces que me encierro en este mundo imaginario para crearme ciertas historias, la mayoría son mis estados de ánimo, como esta que les invito a leer a continuación. De antemano me disculpo por el final, no es nada personal, sería más bien con mi conciencia. Su título es "¿Habrá llegado el fin de mis ideas?"
Mi bolígrafo debe estar celoso de mi, apenas lo toco y cuando lo hago solo nacen ideas carentes de valor alguno, como ahora. Ideas y pensamientos confusos que únicamente yo puedo entender. Quizás sufro de una amnesia pasajera, provocada por el modo de vida que llevo, y reconozco que al tratar de dar fertilidad a mis pensamientos e ideas como antes hacía, consigo vagamente trenzar un montón de inútiles palabras que cualquier ser humano dotado del menor ápice de inteligencia, notaría su transparente incoherencia. No logro hacer resaltar nada de lo que me apega, de lo que me va marchitando (quizás interiormente aún no lo entiendo)desde mis raíces hacia afuera y me voy recomiendo muy paulatinamente al unísono con mi vida.
Poniéndolo más grande, quizás no sea amnesia pasajera y me preocupaba, tal vez sea que me consumo hundida en un submundo en el que nunca acepté estar. En ese lugar con altísimas paredes pintadas de ¿Por qué ? y larguísimas cortinas adornadas de razonamientos mediocres, o simplemente en cuartos enormes, llenos de irracionales diarios vacíos, sin absolutamente nada que leer en ellos.
Me aterra pensar que el conformismo se arraigó a mi, ocupando el lugar de la mágica espiritualidad y me desconsuela ver que no consigo mi real imagen, ni siquiera en los espejos.
He pasado todos mis años, mi vida entera, aferrada a escrituras que nacieron de momentos y estados de ánimos determinados. Me reconfortaba desahogarme en ellas y encontraba una paz total. Escribir siempre fue mi fuerte y hoy, ya no logro concentrarme en lo que escribo. Y a ti, quien quiera que seas, no te atormentes si lees todo esto, primeramente, te disculpo tu falta de conciencia por invadir pensamientos íntimos que no te conciernen y en un segundo y último plano, te pido de favor, ya que eres una criatura que respeta tan poco la privacidad de pensamientos, que me lances un SOS y me respondas, si es que puedes: "¿En que me estoy convirtiendo?"
Espero halla sido de su agrado. Leeré sus críticas para siempre mejorar. Un saludo y un abrazo inmenso desde Cuba.
Confused thoughts and ideas? temporary amnesia?... sounds like me, hehehe!
Thanks for sharing @anytacuba
Take care 😀
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