I'm a broken rose...

It's never easy to bloom again after the storm passed by and left us all broken, incomplete. You see, I couldn't feel my body for so long, that I got used to it. I started thinking about myself as an object just there. Lifeless, purposeless. For a while I couldn't understand why the storm was so obviously directed to me, why if I had done everything right, it didn't payed off. It rained so hard... It washed away the hope. It wasn't fair. But why did it had to be fair in the first place? The storm, the rain, the world didn't owe me anything. And I need to let that sink in. You see, I couldn't feel my body for so long, until life started to born again, all around my chest, my head. It's never about why the storm falls on top of you, it's about why you do after that. And for the record: it's okay if it takes time for you to understand it. https://www.instagram.com/p/CKjyU9gFxbG/?igshid=1enprne9t6jfh

Would you say I'm resting in peace? That's all I want. To rest. May the peace be a bonus. I don't know which places are left for me to try to close my eyes and truly let myself go. I've tried them all. None of them work. I'm so tired. Soft surfaces don't seem to be so comfortable anymore, I don't feel like I belong to them. So I came here. I came back to the green. And it surrounds me warmly. These leaves whisper to my ear. They want me to stay. Should I stay? I feel tired. Would you say I've found my peace? I still look tired. Would I be fine? Will this green hold me tightly until I'm ready? "From earth you come and to the earth you must return" I listen in my sleep. So I let go. Take me there, Mother. Take me with you. https://www.instagram.com/p/CG1aAL-Ftha/?igshid=1x2evq1ddlip7

I've turn everything green. Because someone said that's the color of life. I don't see it but I want to believe it. So, there's my bed, using all the shades of green I could find. Maybe that way, when I go to sleep I could feel, somehow, alive. And I've filled my room with plants, in a desperate attempt of having extra oxygen when I don't feel it getting into my lungs. So far, it's not working. But it looks nice, right? Having an aesthetic feels nice. It's a way to show a little bit of control, compensating the fact that I don't have it in the rest of things I -almost- care about. What would my bed think about me and all this? Everytime I cry at night, "ridiculous" she would say. I'm glad beds don't speak. I'm glad my bed is green. And I'm glad green is the color of life. I should turn green too. https://www.instagram.com/p/CGy2Y_mF-MF/?igshid=jx9moltlp0cq

Me encontraba subiendo una escalera que me prometía el cielo, sin saber que la puerta de entrada no solo estaba cerrada, si no que hacía mucho que no recibía mortales. Subía con la confianza de que mis pies pisaban fuerte y que mis manos no sabían soltar; que las alturas ya no eran problema, pensaba, que después de tanto tiempo en tierra, las nubes me vendrían mejor. Nunca pensé en el oxígeno que me haría falta. Nunca pensé que desde tan arriba, la caída iba a ser peor. Pero, ¿quién pensaba en caer cuando sentía que tenía alas? Cuando el viento no soplaba tan fuerte y se sentía como un aliado, hasta que me lo topé de frente y estaba tan enojado. Entonces todos estábamos enojados. El viento, las nubes, la escalera y yo. Nunca pensé en el oxígeno que me haría falta. Nunca pensé que desde tan alto, lo mejor para bajar sería simplemente dejarme caer. Ya no tenía fuerzas para pisar despacio hacia abajo. Y la vista era tan bella. ¿Quién lo hubiera dicho? ¿Quién podría saber? https://www.instagram.com/p/CGtqgMJFSni/?igshid=jratbc6udpdt