No he escrito nada en mucho tiempo (MUCHO tiempo, ya). Tampoco habΓa escrito nunca nada en espaΓ±ol en este blog, pero tengo la necesidad de desahogarme.
Me llamo Diego. Tengo 23 aΓ±os y nacΓ en Caracas, Venezuela. MigrΓ© a la ciudad de Nueva York hace ya casi diez aΓ±os.
No recuerdo una Venezuela pacΓfica. No me tocΓ³ vivir esos recuerdos que las generaciones previas llevan en el alma. Dentro de un entorno lleno de privilegios (describirlo como "privilegio" es bastante generoso, tambiΓ©n), tuve la oportunidad de ver mΓ‘s allΓ‘ de mi paΓs. Gracias al internet pude escapar de un entorno bastante decadente. Pude ver otros mundos, interactuar con otras personas y aprovechar al mΓ‘ximo conexiones que no podΓa encontrar en mis alrededores.
La vida dio vueltas y terminΓ© migrando a los Estados Unidos. La crisis sociopolΓtica creada por el rΓ©gimen chavista me alejΓ³ de mi familia. Varias noches recuerdo mi casa alumbrada por velas, baldes de agua y el pΓ‘nico de que lo poco que habΓa en la nevera se echara a perder. Mi alarma de las tres de la maΓ±ana eran los balazos. Recuerdo el asfalto brillando con sangre.
Tuve una relaciΓ³n de amor y odio con Venezuela. Al salir de Caracas, la nostalgia no estaba presente; miraba mi pasado con mucho odio y arrechera. Siempre sentΓa que esa ciudad maldita me estaba quitando la juventud, dejΓ‘ndome traumatizado y arrecho.
Caracas, el valle de balas.
No tengo que explicar por quΓ© el arresto de NicolΓ‘s Maduro se sintiΓ³ como un arma de doble filo, especialmente al ver una publicaciΓ³n reciente de Trump refiriΓ©ndose a Venezuela como el quincuagΓ©simo primer estado.
Maldito sea todo polΓtico.
Maldito sea NicolΓ‘s Maduro, el PSUV y su banda de ratas.
Maldito sea el rΓ©gimen narcopedΓ³filo sionista de Donald Trump.
Migrar me dio una perspectiva crΓtica hacia la mayorΓa de los gobiernos que han dictado mi existencia. Existo por un papel, un pasaporte, una cΓ©dula y un nΓΊmero ALIEN (USCIS).
Nunca hubo una escapatoria de aquellos en el poder. Simplemente le echaron perfume a la mierda.
Pero mierda es mierda.
En resumen, para no hacer esto tan largo, la reflexiΓ³n que puedo dejar despuΓ©s de existir en estos entornos es:
NingΓΊn sistema de gobierno es apto para personas con un genuino deseo de progreso.
Las calles me enseΓ±aron a querer, a aguantar, a seguir adelante y a construir un futuro en el que puedo ser lo que yo quiera ser.
ME PASO A ICE POR EL CULO.
LA MIGRA ME MAMA EL GUEVO.
TRUMP Y MADURO ME MAMAN EL GUEVO.
Y ME LO SEGUIRΓN MAMANDO.
No le tengo miedo a ningΓΊn NARCO, MOSSAD, POLICΓA, AGENTE, MILITAR, ETC.
Mucho menos a ningΓΊn gringo pajΓΊo.
.
Venezuela es Venezuela; no es ningΓΊn quincuagΓ©simo primer estado. Llevo en mi corazΓ³n a mi gente, a mi papΓ‘ y a mis hermanos.
Llevo en mi corazΓ³n el asfalto, el Γvila mΓ‘gica, las encavas, el gas lacrimΓ³geno y la opresiΓ³n a mi pueblo. Una opresiΓ³n que me niego a aceptar de parte de este paΓs y de Trump. Hay que dejar atrΓ‘s la basura neocolonial.
SIETE ESTRELLAS SIEMPRE.
NO OCHO.
TAMPOCO CINCUENTA Y UNO.
βDiego
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ENGLISH:
I haven't written anything in a long time (a VERY long time, actually). I've never written anything in Spanish on this blog either, but I feel the need to get this off my chest.
My name is Diego. I'm 23 years old and I was born in Caracas, Venezuela. I migrated to New York City almost ten years ago.
I don't remember a peaceful Venezuela. I didn't get to experience the memories that previous generations carry in their souls. Within an environment filled with privilege (calling it "privilege" is pretty generous, too), I was given the opportunity to see beyond my country. Thanks to the internet, I was able to escape a deeply decayed environment. I saw other worlds, interacted with people, and made the most of connections that I could never find around me.
Life took its turns and I ended up migrating to the United States. The sociopolitical crisis created by the Chavista regime separated me from my family. I remember nights when my home was lit by candles, buckets filled with water, and the constant fear that the little food we had left in the fridge would spoil. My 3 a.m. alarm clock was gunfire. I remember asphalt shining with blood.
I had a love-hate relationship with Venezuela. When I left Caracas, nostalgia wasn't there. I looked at my past with anger and resentment. I always felt that cursed city was stealing my youth from me, leaving me traumatized and angry.
Caracas, the Valley of Bullets.
I don't need to explain why the arrest of NicolΓ‘s Maduro felt like a double-edged sword, especially after seeing Trump's recent post referring to Venezuela as the fifty-first state.
Damn every politician.
Damn NicolΓ‘s Maduro, the PSUV, and his gang of rats.
Damn Donald Trump's Zionist narco-pedophile regime.
Migration gave me a critical perspective on most of the governments that have shaped my existence. I exist because of a piece of paper, a passport, an ID card, and an ALIEN number (USCIS).
There was never any real escape from those in power.
They just sprayed perfume on the shit.
But shit is still shit.
To keep this from becoming too long, the reflection I can offer after existing within these environments is this:
No system of government is fit for people with a genuine desire for progress.
The streets taught me how to love, how to endure, how to keep moving forward, and how to build a future where I can be whatever I want to be.
I DON'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ICE.
IMMIGRATION CAN SUCK MY DICK.
TRUMP AND MADURO CAN SUCK MY DICK.
AND THEY ALWAYS WILL.
I am not afraid of any NARCO, MOSSAD AGENT, COP, FEDERAL AGENT, SOLDIER, OR ANYONE ELSE.
Much less some clueless gringo.
Venezuela is Venezuela. It is not the fifty-first state. I carry my people in my heart. My father. My brothers.
I carry the asphalt and concrete, the magic Γvila, the encavas, the tear gas, and the oppression of my people in my heart. An oppression that I refuse to accept from this country and from Trump. The time has come to leave colonial garbage behind.
SEVEN STARS FOREVER.
NOT EIGHT.
AND CERTAINLY NOT FIFTY-ONE.
βDiego



















