Me hiciste reflexionar sobre todo lo que representa Steemit, no solo como plataforma, sino como espacio de interacción humana, con sus luces brillantes y sus sombras más oscuras.
Lo que cuentas duele, porque se siente real. La traición, la indiferencia, el abuso del sistema, pero también el amor por escribir, por conectar, por enseñar. Quizás lo más triste es sentir que diste mucho y terminaste “desaparecido” entre algoritmos o egos inflados.
Aun así, valoro que sigas dejando huella. Para algunos, como yo, esas palabras no pasan desapercibidas.
¿Y si no estás muerta, sino que estás renaciendo en una versión más sabia y selectiva?
To answer your question: wise in which way? I believe I am wise enough and like I say to my children and friends, 13 lives is enough. No return. I think I had my life and the world we are facing is not mine, nor will be the future, which is a good thing (for me). If the youth holds the future, I doubt. The old men hold and decide but we can still build our own paradise inside of that, and it's like the saying: what you don't know doesn't hurt. Everything has it's front and backside, a positive and a downside. Awareness is all you need to decide what you want for you. Not everyone is the same; they don't all need the same thing.
There are plenty of people perfectly satisfied with their lives, someone else deciding, taking the decisions and the responsibilities.
I had many talks with the homeless. Those I spoke with were homeless out of choice or lived off the grid, had a job, a roof about their head and food. They knew the tricks of how to survive, a part did it for a reason (not to be found, not to pay alimony and so on), others to be free. They don't care about the neighbours, the wellbeing of... nature or any war It simply doesn't exist.
Not being wise has its benefits.