o más lacerante aún: la zambullida feliz con que comenzamos la preparación de un emprendimiento, que comienza a tornarse con cargas de angustia y pesar a medida que el desarrollo del mismo avanza, para transformarse en una verdadera zaga de tomar consciencia que los obstáculos no son desafíos, sino cilicios que están ahí esperando para que sangremos nuestras espaldas, para terminar solemnemente declarando que, en el mejor de los casos, el resultado obtenido es en proporción inversa al sufrimiento invertido en el camino.

y así vamos confeccionando la apología del dolor, apegando el mismo a nuestra cotidianidad, devaluando en cada uno de nuestros actos la cuota parte de felicidad que hasta me resulta difícil expresar, para no sentirme ingenuo, naif, por no decir nabo.

quiero creer en este emerger de las profundidades de mi abismo, en esa bocanada de aire que tomo para oxigenarme, y estoy agradecido de ser un elegido (vaya a saber por quién) que a pesar de poder observar en la imagen del espejo que tengo delante la devolución de algo que no me conforma, que tiene los resabios de conductas que cargan mochilas de aquello que hablaba al principio, me dan la esperanza de que en esa mirada, en cada uno de los desafíos a los cuales me enfrento, debe de haber más espacio para la felicidad que para el miedo y la tristeza.

que así sea …

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it is in this daily exercise with which our inner gaze is directed both backwards and forwards, where we rejoice with the past (more with pain than with joys, as an attachment); or in that disturbing and agonizing projection to the future, the basis of which is fear, - I would no longer say that it distracts (because the noun is almost like a euphemism)-, when that zimbabwes slam that prevents us from directing our gaze to the tip of our feet , to see where we stand, what space we are occupying in our own universe.

or even more lacerating: the happy dive with which we begin the preparation of an entrepreneurship, which begins to turn with burdens of anguish and sorrow as the development of it progresses, to become a real lag of becoming aware obstacles are not challenges, but cilicios that are there waiting for us to bleed our backs, to end solemnly declaring that, at best, the result obtained is in verse to the suffering invested along the way.

and so we are making the apology of pain, apprehending our daily life, devaluing in each of our acts the share of happiness that I even find difficult to express, so as not to feel naive, naif, not to say turnip.

I want to believe in this emerging from the depths of my abyss, in that breath of air That I take for oxygenation, and I am grateful to be a chosen one (i will know by whom) that despite being able to observe in the image of the mirror that I have in front of me the return of something that I do not conforma, which has the resabios of behaviors that carry backpacks of what I spoke at the beginning, give me the hope that in that gaze, in each of the challenges i face, there must be more room for happiness than for fear and sadness.

so be it ...