Diary of a Butterfly
"Inferno Vivente"
January 24, 2022
Los pasos sonaban como troncos cayendo al ritmo de sus latidos sincronizados, así pasaba mirando las líneas de acera tejiendo la ruta hasta su hogar.
Camino poco transitado pero que albergaba un sin fin de situaciones, en cada tramo del sector le habían ocurrido hechos conmovedores.
The footsteps sounded like logs falling to the rhythm of their synchronized heartbeats, so he passed looking at the lines of sidewalk weaving the route to his home.
Little traveled road but that housed an endless number of situations, in each section of the sector moving events had occurred.
No era el viento, pero si el frío que le provocaba acelerar la caminata que lo apartaba cada vez más rápido de esos recuerdos, de a ratos la locura lo tentaba a mirar atrás solo para revivir sensaciones de odio, tristeza, felicidad y dolor.
Aún no sabe que lo impulsa en su carrera, consciente de que no debe retroceder, corta con jadeos cada desaire de cansancio dando entrada al rencor de seguir viviendo desinhibido de esperanza.
It wasn't the wind, but the cold that caused him to speed up the walk that took him away faster and faster from those memories, at times the madness tempted him to look back only to relive feelings of hatred, sadness, happiness and pain.
He still doesn't know what drives him in his career, aware that he shouldn't back down, he gasps out each snub of exhaustion giving way to the resentment of continuing to live uninhibited with hope.
Pisa con fuerza en la entrada marcando con huellas húmedas sobre aquella vieja alfombra, dejando marcas al tiempo y clara presencia en el lugar.
La mochila cada vez más pesada se desprende de sus hombros dejando caer al suelo junto con gotas de llanto toda la carga emocional, inhalando luego la culpa de no haber hecho nada más que huir saltando charcos de traición durante todo ese viaje.
He steps hard at the entrance marking with wet footprints on that old carpet, leaving marks of time and a clear presence in the place.
The increasingly heavy backpack comes off his shoulders letting all the emotional load fall to the ground along with drops of tears, then inhaling the guilt of having done nothing more than flee jumping puddles of betrayal during all that trip.
"Ya cálmate"
Se repite frente al espejo, como pidiéndose perdón de haber partido con inocencia e ingenuidad, para regresar con el rostro bordeado en plata, con la mirada silente y un infierno vivo que lo hace sentir cada vez más cobarde, miserable y demente.
"Calm down"
He repeats himself in front of the mirror, as if asking forgiveness for having left with innocence and naivety, to return with his face bordered in silver, with a silent look and a living hell that makes him feel more and more cowardly, miserable and insane.
Diary of a Buterfly es un espacio personal para compartir mis escrituras a través de #Hive y sus diversas comunidades.
Diary of a Butterfly is a personal space to share my writing through #Hive and its various communities.