Y me pregunto porqué es que aún tengo dolor?? Si en mi mayor parte del tiempo la he pasado negándome a mí mismo que en verdad existes. Y me pregunto porqué es que aún siento esta frustración?? Si el atropello constante de tu recuerdo en mi memoria ya no es nítido. Me pregunto porqué es que siempre falta algo... quizá lo mismo que al siempre lograr encontrarlo, nunca eres tú...S erá que adolezco?? O sólo es la austera resaca de un ofensivo alucine?? Por qué siento como si este momento ya lo hubiese vivido?? Por qué me adormezco?? Va!!! Cómo saberlo, si me odio realmente a mí mismo, también, odio mi poco sentido de incomprensión, odio mi falsa sinceridad al repartir afecto, odio ser una linda persona, odio tener que odiarme.. Odio todo y a todos excepto a ti... Odio la eterna realidad que me incomoda, odio al cielo por mirarme, odio el infierno por estar en vida en él, odio la tierra por ser parte de su naturaleza incierta que morirá, odio al mar que me lavó mis culpas, odio al viento porque se llevo tu cuerpo al desintegrarse, odio cada instante, por días, horas, minutos y segundos que felizmente desvanecí a tu lado, odio mi desquiciada y alcohólica forma de vivir de los últimos años, odio la vida, odio a Dios, odio todo, todo, todo... pero no te odio a ti... eso es lo único que realmente soy incapaz de hacer y créeme lo más sentimental sutil y estúpido de esto, es que tampoco te amo...Y me pregunto porqué es que aún tengo este dolor??? Para Ángela Garrido, en algún lugar allá en el Cielo. Jesús Daniel Castillo. (Chucho Incauto).AND I WONDER WHY DO I STILL HAVE PAIN?
And I wonder Why do I still have pain? If in my bigger part of the time I have passed it refusing to myself that truly you exist. And do I wonder why I still feel this frustration?? If the constant violation of your memory in my head is no longer clear. I wonder why always lack something... maybe the same thing that to the always to be able to find it, it is never you Will it be that I suffer?? or is the austere hangover of an offensive hallucination only?? Why do I feel as if this moment has already lived him?? Why do I grow drowsy?? How to know it, if I really hate myself, also, I hate my very incomprehension sense, hate my false sincerity when distributing affection, hate to be a pretty person, hate to have to hate me.. I Hate everything and everybody except to you... I Hate the eternal reality that inconveniences me, I hate to the sky to look at myself, I hate the hell to be in life in him, I hate the earth to be part of their uncertain nature that will die, I hate to the sea that washed me my blames, hate to the wind because it takes your body when disintegrated, I hate each instant, for days, hours, minutes and seconds that happily disappeared to your side, hate my unhinged and alcoholic forms of living of the last years, hate the life, hate to God, hate everything, everything, everything... but I don't hate you... that is the only thing that I am really unable to make and believe me the most sentimental thing subtle and stupid of this, is that neither I love you... And do I wonder reason is that I still have this pain??? For Ángela, in some place there in the Sky. Jesús Daniel Castillo. (Incautious chucho)
And I wonder Why do I still have pain? If in my bigger part of the time I have passed it refusing to myself that truly you exist. And do I wonder why I still feel this frustration?? If the constant violation of your memory in my head is no longer clear. I wonder why always lack something... maybe the same thing that to the always to be able to find it, it is never you Will it be that I suffer?? or is the austere hangover of an offensive hallucination only?? Why do I feel as if this moment has already lived him?? Why do I grow drowsy?? How to know it, if I really hate myself, also, I hate my very incomprehension sense, hate my false sincerity when distributing affection, hate to be a pretty person, hate to have to hate me.. I Hate everything and everybody except to you... I Hate the eternal reality that inconveniences me, I hate to the sky to look at myself, I hate the hell to be in life in him, I hate the earth to be part of their uncertain nature that will die, I hate to the sea that washed me my blames, hate to the wind because it takes your body when disintegrated, I hate each instant, for days, hours, minutes and seconds that happily disappeared to your side, hate my unhinged and alcoholic forms of living of the last years, hate the life, hate to God, hate everything, everything, everything... but I don't hate you... that is the only thing that I am really unable to make and believe me the most sentimental thing subtle and stupid of this, is that neither I love you... And do I wonder reason is that I still have this pain??? For Ángela, in some place there in the Sky. Jesús Daniel Castillo. (Incautious chucho)
