Often in life I have been called strong. Though I know they mean it as a complement my heart sinks and there is a wave of sadness in my soul when I hear it. For what I show is a forced resiliency, a way I’ve had to be my entire life just to survive. I’ve always wanted to find a good life, to be truly happy and for that I knew I must carry on, to keep walking through every pain and hurt. What I want is to be soft, and for softness to be alright. I want to be helpful and do what it is my soul and heart need to be healed. I believe in service, not servitude. I believe giving of the self, of giving always with love, yet I’ve learnt that I have limits. To call a person strong or brave sounds so nice, but if in reality they are like a horse being run to death and praised for its speed and beauty, there is a cruelty to it. From my beginnings I knew that crying summoned another person to inflict pain, so why cry? “If you cry I’ll give you something to cry about.” So please don’t look at my dry face and tell me I’m strong, because it hurts.
I’m not strong, I just learned to move on regardless of the situation. Life is unpredictable – it’s beautiful, it’s ugly, it’s easy, it’s hard. Regardless of the way we perceive it and the surprises it offers us, it is important to never forget that everything is an extraordinary journey that will never be repeated (oh, in some situations this is the best news, that it will never happen again)
I let things be exactly as they are instead of thinking about how they could be. It always seemed silly to me to think about how everything could have been. It is already history, past, let go and move on. You never know what the future holds for you.
I saw the sea recently, I was happy. Although I actually like the mountains, I have always been attracted to the sea. The sea has always caused me a feeling of emotion that never ends, it always moves forward and backward, without asking “what am I doing here? Where am I going?”
Imagine sitting on the sand that has just cooled, being hot all day in the sun. Imagine the face of love bathed in the moonlight, caressed by the sea breeze and accompanied by the voice of the waves… …And the footsteps left on the sand… … and the traces of salt that remain on your skin…
P.S: What if I fall? Oh, my dear… But what if you fly?
Image © Margó Wiessman, from the Letters project