So Fine I (English version)

So Fine

That guy I knew when I was young, had a special spark that radiated warmth and peace. He always smiled and I never saw him even cry. He was the pretty boy who had it all, perfect and rebellious. If I had ever been able to make peace with him, perhaps I would not feel this knot that oppresses me every day. If the accounts had been clear, perhaps my maturity would be complete.I no longer feel pain or desire to destroy the entire world, it's just me in a peace that my younger self never knew and sought so desperately while his heart broke a thousand times and his soul cracked with each stab of silver. I don't even know why I hated or resented him anymore, it could be because he was the opposite of me; he was what I unconsciously wanted to be.                   

When I saw him, I had illusions of hitting him and erasing that smile from his face, of humiliating him and making him lose his egocentrism disguised as bravery. It wasn't me who was speaking but my ego, that damned Nosferatu on my left who always whispered things and drank from my stormy decadence.

My blinded hatred only allowed me to see him defeated and find fault with him for any aspect, and what could I boast of? I, the king of the flaw.

Once I held out my hand and offered him my friendship, but he rejected it, holding my actions against me. He wanted to help him and help me, but it was evident that he didn't listen to me and would not try to understand me. I thought that I wish he and all the ilk of his companions would rot.His success was a fit and his outbursts burned in the wound; It wouldn't heal until one of them fell. Seemed like it would be me, I was on the edge of the abyss and was operating on autopilot with alcohol as my fuel. The misshapen colors intensified almost at the end of the syncope and the eviction of the poison. It was utterly ironic that laughter slowed down the uncontrollable tremor of my tears as choking and claustrophobic as the deep trenches of the ocean.I think I've seen a weapon, I need to have it with me and embrace it with intense fervor, like a child with his stuffed animal. I can't with the guilty reminiscence; someone must give me back what belongs to me, it's not blue or yellow, actually, I don't even know what it was like or why it was diluted in my hope.Qué lejos estoy del suelo donde he nacido, inmensa nostalgia invade mi pensamiento... Damn, those lyrics are from a song I heard on Mars. While I sing with treble, the pretty boy takes gold out of his sleeves... And smiles. Smiles. I really want to wipe that victory smile off his face. I think I got it.My ego is more stable since I saw a smile fade from his face. But I didn't suspect anything about the start of the hunt. There were no invitations or notices. I would have wanted to know or at least understand what this whole detective story was about."No, I didn't hate him" —Thought while I managed to decipher the end of the game. I wanted to be him; I wanted to be all the pretty boys in the middle, but he was different and unique in his own way.The cold body in the coffin awakened my pain and revived my deepest fears, the loss was my eternal punishment. It was my fault. Shame on me for denying you my help.Because he didn't see danger in familiar faces or notice the first blow. He fell to his knees and collapsed as a living dead. His heavy body didn't fight to save him, only his eyes moved with intense teary despair. Because he articulated a single cry of pain for help and I couldn't help him. Because his heart stopped beating while his mind wandered to the afterlife with the last sight of his hunters....I never saw him cry for others, without knowing that he cried for him without tears. He didn't speak, but he breathed doom. He just sang in the borrowed voice of a tragic angel.I couldn't stop him before the hunt and just watched him go. That day he died, and I with him.He's gone, he didn't say why, but it seems that I saw it in his eyes.