Manifiesto

Prólogo

Si antes el abusador me había corrompido la psiquis y el confidence. La oveja fue peor. La oveja resulto ser un lobo despiadado, sin empatía que me quería de una manera muy extraña. Que mucho me dolió descubrir su fasada. Con su boca me decía que me quería y con esa misma boca me tomaba for granted. Pronto descubrí que la oveja no siempre fue un lobo sino que se convirtió en eso con el pasar de los años. Aun estando en solitud antes de encontrarme, ya era un lobo. La oveja había pasado por mucho y yo le acogí como quien también lleva cicatricez y la quise cuidar. La oveja pretendía a su mejor manera.

Deje entrar al lobo a mi casa pero yo veía una oveja. Deje todo y me fui con ella a otro país, donde mi idioma no es el primero y mi cara extranjera. Por un momento sentí felicidad, progreso, dicha, alegría de construir una vida donde ambos creábamos nuestra propia familia. Pronto la oveja dejo de decirme “Buenos dias”. No respondía a mis preguntas: “¿Cómo estuvo tu dia? “ Me encontré en silencio teniendo compañia. Entonces, le comencé a ver una cola.

Un dia la oveja me llevo a la cama, cuando yo no queria. Estaba muy cansada , aun así puse mi esfuerzo. Ante mis ojos se transformo en un lobo. Me humillo, que mi trabajo era satisfacerle que no podia irse a dormir con las bolas azules. Yo, desnuda y vulnerable lloraba…Todo porque no quería. ¿como es que no me di cuenta? Todo este tiempo estuve durmiendo con un lobo que nunca fue una oveja. Poco después la oveja me echó a la calle. El lobo nunca me quizo. Yo solo fui un medio para su fin.Fue mas fácil entre dos brincar el charco. Fui excelente compañia, no solo entregue mi cuerpo, mi mente y lo que quedaba de mi corazón pero mis ahorros lo poco que tenia. Al lobo solo le interesaba mi cuerpo y tener quien le sirva.

Que mucho quería a ese lobo y que difícil fue irme. Mis acciones fueron precisas: buscar un nuevo apartamento, dormir en el sofa, llorar mientras existia y trabajar para continuar. Por dentro estaba pulvorizada y el mundo lo sabia. Mas tarde en el silencio de mi nuevo apartamento. I realized . Nadie entraría esa puerta después de mi. Que en estas paredes solo se escucharía el sonido de mi voz y los maullidos de mi felino acompañante.

Primero lloraba hasta dormir. Luego mi pecho me dolía de rabia. Hasta que un dia me encontré guiando hacia la boca del lobo. Pero no lo encontré. En mi apartamento lloraba del coraje mi cara roja y caliente como el fuego. Quería sangre. Vi rojo y solo quería regresar a su cueva, la que una vez fue mi casa. Gritaba a mi almohada por mis ancestros para que intercedieran y me quitaran estas ganas justificadas de matar. Si, justificadas. Porque en ese momento e inclusive mucho tiempo después podría justificar matar al lobo con mis propias manos y valdría la pena. Mi vida seria un precio alto a pagar pero todo era justificable.

Esta seria mi conclusión. Le pondría fin al abusador, al lobo, al vecino que me toco al estar muy pequeña, al cabrón que hizo de un funeral un meet and greet y a mi padre con su constante abandono. A todos los quería quemar. Entre las cenizas renacería, rejuvenecida porque me bañe en la sangre de los hombres que me rompieron y vandalizaron.

Prologue

If the abuser had previously corrupted my psyche and my confidence, the sheep was worse. The sheep turned out to be a ruthless wolf, devoid of empathy, who loved me in a very strange way. How deeply it hurt to discover its identity. With its mouth, it told me it loved me, and with that same mouth, it took me for granted. I soon found that the sheep wasn't always a wolf, but had become one over the years. Even though it had been alone before meeting me, it was already a wolf. The sheep had been through a lot, and I welcomed it like someone who also carries scars and wanted to take care of it. The sheep was trying to be the best it could be.

I let the wolf into my house, but I saw a sheep. I left everything behind and went to another country, where my language isn't the first and my face is foreign. For a moment, I felt happiness, progress, joy. The joy of building a life where we both created our own family. Soon, the sheep stopped saying "Good morning" to me. He didn't answer my questions: "How was your day?" I found myself silent, having company. Then, I began to see a tail.

One day, the sheep took me to bed when I didn't want to. I was tired, yet I put in my effort. Before my eyes, he transformed into a wolf. He humiliated me, saying that my job was to satisfy him, that he couldn't go to sleep with his balls blue. I, naked and vulnerable, cried... All because I didn't want to. How come I didn't realize? All this time, I was sleeping with a wolf who was never a sheep. Shortly after, the sheep threw me out onto the street. The wolf never loved me. I was only a means to his end. It was easier for two people to team up and move. I was excellent company. I not only gave up my body, my mind, and what was left of my heart, but also my savings, the little I had. The wolf was only interested in my body and having someone to serve him.

How much I loved that wolf, and how hard it was to leave. My actions were precise: look for a new apartment, sleep on the couch, cry while I existed, and work to continue. Inside, I was pulverized, and the world knew it. Later, in the silence of my new apartment, I realized. No one would enter that door after me. That within these walls, only the sound of my voice and the meows of my feline companion would be heard.

First, I cried myself to sleep. Then, my chest ached with rage. Until one day, I found myself leading the way toward the wolf's den. But I didn't find him. In my apartment, I wept with rage, my face red and hot as fire. I wanted blood. I saw red and just wanted to return to its cave, the one that had once been my home. I screamed to my pillow for my ancestors to intercede and take away this justified urge to kill. Yes, justified. Because at that moment, and even long after, I could justify killing the wolf with my own hands, and it would be worth it. My life would be a high price to pay, but everything was justifiable.

This would be my conclusion. I would put an end to the abuser, the wolf, the neighbor who touched me when I was very young, the bastard who turned a funeral into a meet-and-greet, and my father with his constant abandonment. I wanted to burn them all. I would be reborn from the ashes, rejuvenated by bathing in the blood of the men who broke and vandalized me.