The asshole

This is the part of my life I call -THE ASSHOLE-, that fucking thing that lives inside of me that makes me have a curse and a blessing at the same damn time: the ability to tell the truth.

And one day, the rolling gigantic ball of snow that was coming down for a while, devastating anything on it's path, came to land, or for the sake of more -agro- type wording, Shit hits the fan.

In what contest?

For that we need a definition.

quimera

Del lat. chimaera, y este del gr. χίμαιρα chímaira.

1. En la mitología clásica, monstruo imaginario que vomitaba llamas y tenía cabeza de león, vientre de cabra y cola de dragón.

2. Aquello que se propone a la imaginación como posible o verdadero, no siéndolo.

Aquello que se propone la imaginación como posible o verdadero, no siendolo. WoW, and at some point I thought that it was possible.

How can I break her heart like this, telling her that my feelings have changed, acting as a liaison between the first warm candles of our love and the coldness of heart life has given me towards it all?

Then it all comes true, for the feelings of our hearts can not be changed, for what? comfort? the ability of feeling better about ourselves?

In order to accept what we are, we have to understand what we can achieve, for good or bad, we have to acknowledge that we are gods in nature and our nature is creative and destructive at the same damn time!

I would never imagine that I would live through this, in a place where the truth primes over the perceived reality, how do I explain to my body that my mind stopped feeling, that the fundamental being inside is residing with a sentiment of care and wellness that has slowly replaced love, the goddess?

This is a very unfair deal and there's a place on hell for people like me, but at the same time I ask: Am I a sinner for telling the truth?

then I see it clear:

I have that nature that I always ran away from, the nature of a human, with defects and virtues, the nature that can do human things and express human emotions, the kind that can fuck up and become a sinner, with his words, his attitude and his impulses, so this is not enough to express how bad I feel at this particular moment in this reality, I feel that this is simply the worst day of my life, for I have done more damage that I can imagine, for I've become a sinnerman.

We live parallel realities, all of us, as humans, we drive, dive, fly, walk and compare, so we run to boiling and bleeding rivers, yet we are here to tell those tales and cry, for we are able to fuck it up so bad, that the lord eventually will tell us to go to the devil, who will always be waiting, and at the end, that same devil will tell us: one thing has nothing to do with the other, you don't belong here, for you're not lying.

I am so sorry, I mean it.