CONCURSO | Última carta/Last letter
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Me enamoré de ti con todas las fuerzas de la irracionalidad, con la piel, con los arrebatos propios de la adolescencia.
Y aunque sabía que no me correspondías de la misma manera; nada de eso logró doblegar mi "orgullo", ni siquiera cuando en la competencia de maratón detuve mis pasos para que tú resultaras ganador, porque le habías dicho a todos en el Liceo que nadie podría ganarte en esa competencia. ¿Te acuerdas? Yo iba de primera, y te vi correr detrás de mí, asustado por no poder cumplir con tu palabra; yo simulé un calambre; y tú ganaste. Levantaste tus brazos con gesto de trinfador y luego atravesaste tu brazo derecho sobre el izquierdo, a la altura de tu codo, como queriendo hacer una cruz. Gristaste a todo pulmón:
¡Ganó el papá!
Yo bajé la cara, porque sentí pena de tu mala educación, de tu falta de respeto. Cuando quise acercarme a ti con intenciones de felicitarte, me esquivaste como si mi sola presencia te fastidiara. Supuse que querías disfrutar tu momento de gloria solo, como el dueño del mundo que siempre has querido ser. Yo lloré ese día y creo que todos los días que le siguieron a ese, me reproché una y mil veces haberte dado tantas oportunidades para que fueras mejor que yo. Pero eso decidí dejarte hoy. Ya no soporto más vivir con un mediocre, que se cree inteligente y hábil.
Hoy te escuché decir: "Que yo era una incapaz". Nunca antes me había sentido tan humillada, tan herida en mi "orgullo". Me miré en el espejo, y no logré reconocer ni un ápice de mí, sino una sombra tuya en mis ojeras, un gesto amargo en mi boca, un luz incandescente de amargura en mi mirada. Por eso me voy, porque dejé de ser yo para ser una hechura tuya, Creo que mi piel huele a rancio; y ni yo misma me soporto.
Te dejo todo lo que logramos construir juntos. A fin de cuentas, sé que no eres capaz de lograr nada por ti solo; yo sí sé cómo hacerlo.
Espero no volver a verte nunca más.
Me gustaría invitar a @genomil, @blessedlife y @evagavilan Aquí la información
Pixabay
I fell in love with you with all the forces of irrationality, with the skin, with the outbursts typical of adolescence.
And although I knew that you did not reciprocate in the same way; none of that managed to subdue my "pride", not even when in the marathon competition I stopped my steps so that you would win, because you had told everyone at the high school that no one could beat you in that competition. Do you remember? I was in first class, and I saw you running after me, scared of not being able to keep your word; I faked a cramp, and you won. You raised your arms in a winning gesture and then crossed your right arm over your left, at the height of your elbow, as if you wanted to make a cross. You screamed at the top of your lungs:
Dad won!
I lowered my face, because I felt sorry for your bad manners, your lack of respect. When I wanted to approach you with the intention of congratulating you, you avoided me as if my mere presence bothered you. I assumed that you wanted to enjoy your moment of glory alone, as the owner of the world that you have always wanted to be. I cried that day and I think that every day that followed, I reproached myself a thousand times for having given you so many opportunities to be better than me. But that is what I decided to leave you today. I can no longer bear to live with a mediocre person, who thinks he is intelligent and skilled.
Today I heard you say: "That I was incapable." I have never felt so humiliated before, so hurt in my "pride." I looked in the mirror, and I couldn't recognize even a bit of myself, but a shadow of you in my dark circles, a bitter gesture on my mouth, an incandescent light of bitterness in my gaze. That's why I'm leaving, because I stopped being me to become a creation of you. I think my skin smells rancid; and I can't even stand myself.
I leave you everything we managed to build together. After all, I know that you are not capable of achieving anything on your own; I do know how to do it.
I hope I never see you again.
It sounds as if we shared the same father not able to be suportive. A big mouth, bragging how almighty and not even noticing they "win" because others allow them to. At first it feels easier that way till the backstabbing starts and you are called names you didn't even know they exist.
Leaving is the way to save what is left from you even though there's nothing to be proud of due...
If people like these aren't corrected, crushed how much more harm will they cause to others?
A great entry if it comes to "hurt pride" although to me this goes deeper. It's not the pride that is hurt but the essence of the being trampled on, not allowed to see the daylight and bloom.
Will you change the first two hashtags into English
#entertainment #outofthebox
Please, use your own title!
Thank you for your entry my dear friend
🤗❤️🍀
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That's right, my friend, it's about "wounded pride," but the story is also about how, for strange reasons, at some point in our existence, we cling to abusive and indecent people.
There are some psychoeducational theories that say that when we choose partners we seek to perpetuate the figure of the abusive father or mother.
However, there are other approaches that say that one seeks to live new experiences. That is, never lived before. So, whoever has not had an abusive father or mother will look for a partner who makes them feel what that means.
According to the above, we have no escape. We are prone to always be victims or victimizers.
I believe there is an escape. I don't believe we cling to abusive people but we are raised with the idea to be loyal to family.
I don't see it that way and never did.
Many years have past and I never regretted I left. I still do not see family as the most close people to me. Perhaps I am harsh or is it I am not blind? I do not favour family above those who are to me and that will never happen.
I am also not that mother who will do everythimg for her child no matter what they did.
I don't believe we pick the partner or friends which are a copy of a parent. What does might happen is that we do not change the environment we live in. On the other hand it will be hard to recognize someone who truly cares next to the fact a partfears being alone while others have to to be able to breathe.
It takes time to be yourself or find back the person you once were. Own ideals, wishes, dreams.
Life is a personal journey to experience and became richer. A victim you can only be if you feel that way.
I never saw myself as a victim, the idiot being fooled and lied to yes, but not a victim. Not even as a child.
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Solo acuñaré esta frase del inicio de un cuento de Angles Mastretta. El cuento se titula: La tía Daniela.
Acá el link por si deseas acercarte a esta escritora. a mí me gustó el cuento: https://narrativabreve.com/2014/09/cuento-angeles-mastretta-la-tia-daniela.html
Gracias por compartir 🤣
Si me preguntas a mi los estúpidos se enamoran como idiotas también
❤️🍀
Jajajaja. Se tenía que decir, y se dijo, jajaja.
Esta es una carta dolorosa, amiga, pero en la cual al fin se ve asomo de dignidad.
Claro, de cómo abandonas tu amor propio para dedicarte a que él se sienta amado.
Cuando veo estás relaciones reconozco que no solo él tiene un problema, ella también. Le dio demasiadas oportunidades.
Qué bueno que tenía por lo menos esa agenda para darle está estocada sin tener siquiera su cara jejeje
Gracias por la invitación, querida.
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Mi querida, creo que eres la steemita que hace más comentarios inteligentes, en toda la plataforma.
A veces pienso que, en algún momento, todos tenemos un poco de la conducta de ambos.
Cuando escribí esta carta, pensé en mí, pero también en amigos y familiares cercanos, y me dije: "Esto, que es ficción, se parece muchísimo a la realidad".
Gracias por pasar. Un abrazo.
☺️ jejeje, gracias 🤗
Es como las novelas, amiga, la realidad supera a la ficción.
Upvoted! Thank you for supporting witness @jswit.
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Gracias por el apoyo, @mikitaly. Me siento honrada de recibirlo. Que sigan los éxitos.
The pages of your old diary deeply moved me; this painful farewell fills you with dignity. The awareness of living in a toxic relationship and deciding to leave it is not something everyone can do, especially for those who make altruism their virtue. 👋🌈
Así es, hay personas que prefieren desfigurarse tanto interna como externamente, antes de decir: ¡Hasta aquí!
Gracias por pasar, y dejarme este comentario tan genuino.
¡Ay, querida amiga, qué lástima cuando la novia se convierte en apocada para que el novio sea más que ella! Esas historias casi siempre terminan así como lo escribiste. Que sea una lección para todas las mujeres: nunca apocarse, ni por el novio. Mejor dicho: sobre todo por el novio. Felicitaciones🤗
Así es, nadie tiene derecho a opacar a otro. Tampoco deberías dejar que esto suceda. Gracias por pasar. Un abrazo.
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Normalmente, en la vida real, a esa clase de hombres les gustan las mujeres que los pisotean: con ellas se portan como auténticos caballeros, hasta disculpándose por los atropellos que ellas les hicieron. Lo vi suceder...
Tienes razón. también lo he visto.
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I never had a dad so no one to look upon or humiliate me. This story does touch me though. My grandfather was a childish man. I beat him in chess at the age of 7 or so. What a mean person he was.
A good story.
Jeje. Agradezco tu valioso comentario, @xiao-aine. Un abrazo.