She is me in the future, I am her in a few years… living among big cities, meeting different people every week, every month.
She is me, the one who dared to send the message, to go on the date, to give herself the chance.
And now she lives in a big city, where she still doesn't speak the language fluently, lives in a dream house, with the man she manifested, the one with the smile that makes her fall in love every time they look at each other, the one who hugs her a little tighter when she's having a bad day.
She is me, the one who freed herself from ties, from ideas that were planted when she began to grow, ideas that had her trapped in a glass box.
Fragile and delicate, a box that had her trapped without her realizing it, and with just stretching her arms and screaming, it shattered into a thousand pieces and let her fly.
She is me, the one who sometimes stops and looks at the photos from the past, counts all the steps she has taken, the leaps of faith she has made, the highs and the lows.
She is me, the one who does not know herself because she is building herself…
