SUFRIR O MORIR

On the outside, everything seems fine: steady gait, confident gaze, even a smile that gives nothing away. But on the inside, it's a museum of cracks, each with a sign saying “do not touch, it hurts.” Here is the burden of legend, there is the memory of childhood, where you had to understand too early that silence is armor. You seem to be alive, you seem to be holding on, but sometimes you want to disappear just enough so that it stops being hard.

And yet, you stand. In the rain, under the judgment of others, without a verdict, but with the feeling that there is no one left to justify yourself to. You endure the storm, you don't trust anyone, and you still don't give up. Because even if your heart is broken, it continues to beat. Even if it's not always by the rules.