💜SOLiTA NO ESTÁS SOLA💜

✨ ¡ENVíOS GRATiS! ✨

🔥¡USA LO QUE PiENSAS!🔥

I am still the same girl who was happy to go to her grandmother Yoli's house to eat granny chocolate and play in the patio, who was excited when she saw the video of "Baby one more time", who ran jumping the table benches in the living room of the school. I am still the same girl who identified more with those who sat in the back and with those who hardly spoke. I am still that girl who, if they asked her to run one lap, would run two, who would get stressed if she organized her time poorly (playing) and did not give her time to do her homework, who would laugh out loud playing basketball, swimming, running, he fell in love with the sea and could not, nor did he ever want to, fall out of love again, who preferred playing fishing to sitting down to talk. 

I look back at the first memory I have of my life and I am still that same three-year-old girl who saw her pregnant mother sitting in the living room one winter afternoon with eyes of love.

I look inside and I've always been that girl, I never stopped being. However, I hid her for a long time, kept her captive, in secret. It wasn't conscious, it wasn't my intention, but that's how it was. The rush, the homework, the responsibilities, the school grades, the pressure, the path drawn, the false desires, the bad friendships, the toxic relationships, the unsolicited comments from the family, made me forget about her and make her one side for years.

But it was always there, deep inside of me. Sometimes I would go out when I was watching SpongeBob, when I wallowed in the waves, when he bought me little colors to draw. But his life time outside expired, and he returned to save. What a mistake of mine, how good that now I can see it. It's me, it's her, it's me.

I have grown in size, I have changed my body many times, I have suffered and I have learned things, I don't walk the same, I don't look the same, you would even think that I am another, but no, I am the same. It's just that I have to adapt, like a chameleon, and act like a functional adult (according to society and capitalism) to be able to live in this world that every time wants to see you "grow" (produce and generate) faster so that you can Forget who you were, who you are.

It was me but as I grew in size and age I began to forget about myself, and now that I dared to remember who I am (and who I always was) I realize that I stopped being really me when my childhood ended. That is where my “authenticity” got trapped, in my body as a child. Like a spirit that stops aging the moment it dies, or like a ghost that is imprisoned in the space where it died, so my self stayed in that girl's body.

Now I want to meet myself again and I can see in the distance, across the street, standing in her elementary school uniform looking proud and excited at that tiny person with scraped knees but so brave to be completely her, waiting for me.

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