Trying to find the right way to speak, I fall silent. Trying only to create something good, I put down my pen. One day I was told I wasn’t old enough to speak. And I believed it. I also believed when they said I needed to study more to have the right to an opinion. And I studied. But it was never enough. And I learned to walk silently, head bowed. Until I stumbled upon the version of myself overflowing with life.
She apologized and extended a hand to help me up from the ground. She offered to walk with me and, so curious to learn more about her, I accepted. As we walked, she told me about the life she led. She was free and brave, and no matter how much the world repeated the same things to her that they said to me, in this other version of me, she believed in herself. And by believing, she opened up, studied, spoke, did, and was. What she wanted and liked. And she did it for herself.
Just to be. I confess that when I listened to her, I didn’t recognize myself, even though talking to her was like talking to my reflection in the mirror. And as I thought about this, the image in front of me flipped and I realized. She has always been me. And now when I look in the mirror, I remember that I am her too.