Published via Ecency

El día que yo no esté tú me vas a extrañar, porque por más que me busques no me vas a encontrar. Pero no creo que me extrañes, si ni siquiera me fuiste a buscar, preso estuve y te enteraste, pero eso no te quitó de inmutar, aunque no te impidió comentarlo, porque en seguida lo fuiste a chismear, comedero del diablo es el aquelarre dónde te has de juntar.

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Conservándote en las sombras, de mí buscas averiguar, para alimentar el morbo y la curiosidad de lo que a mí me pueda pasar, solo saliendo a preguntar, fingiendo preocupación y una falsa amistad. Tender la mano no está contemplado, pero si opinar de lo que hubiera yo hecho para en desgracia no estar.

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No hacen falta redes sociales digitales, para que se puedan juntar quienes comen de la vida de otros como si fuera un manjar, alimento de alimañas es la desgracia ajena, sin mencionar lo que agregan de su propia cosecha, historias fantásticas que ni Spielberg se pudo imaginar, epopeyas de infortunios que ridiculizarían a Homero.

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Nuestra familia muchas veces es quien se entera de último o tal vez ni les llegue a interesar, hasta el mínimo detalle de lo que en mi vida ocurre. Pero nunca puede faltar ese conocido que ni te acuerdas, y que de tu vida ni un capítulo se llega a perder, cuál buitre al acecho de lo que te pueda suceder.

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Saber del otro no es malo, es parte de vivir en sociedad, actuar con vileza fingiendo una amistad para enterarte de la vida del otro, yendo luego a pregonar, puede ser muy bajo por faltar a la confianza que en ti quiso depositar, sumando inventos para sumarle a la maldad.

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Triste vida que algunos padecen, hurgando en la de otros como si de eso comieren, habría que ver cómo es la suya, que de ella se aburren, o tal vez es peor y con eso busquen escape. Saberlo no me importa, ni los chismes que inventen, perdida de tiempo en lo que algunos invierten.

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The day I'm gone you'll miss me, because no matter how hard you look for me you won't find me. But I don't think you'll miss me, if you didn't even go looking for me, I was a prisoner and you found out, but that didn't stop you from getting upset, although it didn't stop you from commenting on it, because you immediately went to gossip about it, the devil's feeding trough is the coven where you have to gather.

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Keeping yourself in the shadows, you seek to find out about me, to feed the morbid curiosity of what might happen to me, only going out to ask questions, feigning concern and a false friendship. Reaching out is not contemplated, but to give an opinion of what I would have done to be unfortunate not to be there.

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There is no need for digital social networks, so that those who eat the lives of others as if it were a delicacy can get together, the food of vermin is the misfortune of others, not to mention what they add of their own harvest, fantastic stories that not even Spielberg could imagine, epics of misfortunes that would ridicule Homer.

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Our family is often the one who finds out last or maybe they are not even interested in the smallest detail of what happens in my life. But you can never miss that acquaintance that you don't even remember, and that not even a chapter of your life is lost, like a vulture on the lookout for anything that might happen to you.

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Knowing about the other is not bad, it is part of living in society, to act with vileness pretending a friendship to find out about the other's life, then going to proclaim, can be very low for failing to trust you wanted to deposit in you, adding inventions to add to the evil.

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Sad life that some suffer, rummaging in the lives of others as if they were eating, it would be necessary to see how theirs is, that they get bored of it, or maybe it is worse and with that they seek escape. I don't care if I know it, nor the gossip they invent, waste of time in what some invest.