nothing has been the same since

maybe that's a good thing?

You know, I honestly kind of hate being so sensitive. I feel everything so incredibly deeply, truly. If other people feel in puddles, I feel in hurricane oceans. It’s exhausting. But it’s also kind of beautiful.

As you grow up, you meet many kinds of people, some of those people you hold onto and never let go, or at least, you really fricking try to never let go. They could live in another country, another city, another phase of life, and you knew. The minute that you met them, you knew, how unbelievably rare they are. Because there are many, many people on this planet, but it is magical to stumble upon the right people at the right time. Not everybody experiences such a blessing. Not everybody knows how to handle it.

Now, queridos readers, you might be reading this and thinking of a particular person, or perhaps thinking of many special people. Good! That’s the whole POINT of this entry. You might be thinking of someone that you knew was special and still let go, maybe you had to, for your own mental health. Maybe you met someone so unbelievably wonderful and feared messing up so you left first, it happens. Maybe you tried so hard to make everything perfect that it ended up being near dumpster fire levels of bad. Maybe you feared that someone would hurt you and you didn’t even want to give them the chance to do so. That’s perfectly fair. Once somebody has broken your trust so deeply, it’s hard to be able to trust yourself in the same way. You constantly might think “Do I like this person because they’ve proven themselves trust-worthy? Or do I like them because I want them to be trust-worthy?” There’s a huge difference. But please, I beg of you, realize that not every person is the same. No experience is the same. No intricate complication is the same. It might be very very similar, but at the end of the day, no two people will ever be the same. You, will never be the same.

Growing up, people always had an idea of who I was. Often times, a very bad idea. In high school, people saw how focused I was on my studies and believed me to be stuck-up, overly confident, and competitive. In reality, I was incredibly insecure, frequently humbled, and if I was competitive, it was only with myself. We only ever live inside the house of our minds, and even then, there are so many rooms that we still have yet to unlock. That’s the point. We don’t even fully know and understand ourselves yet. Maybe we never will. But there are people, wonderful, courageous, kind people that when they find us, inquire about these rooms. It’s scary when this happens, because we don’t even know what they might find. What will you learn about me that I still don’t even realize about myself? How do I react in certain situations? How do I carry myself when things don’t go as planned? What if I’m the person that leaves because they’re scared? No, not scared, absolutely freaking terrified. I’m terrified. So unbelievably afraid to open up rooms and realize certain wounds have never healed. That I’ve left them uncared for, that they’re now infected, that they’ve slowly poisoned the best parts of me. What if this heart that I love so much is necrotic? What if it hurts more than it heals?

That’s when the people I will lovingly call “locksmiths” come into view.

You live in a house 
one that you keep in mind 
but there are locked rooms 
and you're scared of what you'll find 

then you meet somebody 
you think of them freely 
they roam your house 
and explore it completely 

this person, a locksmith
starts to open some doors 
and it's absolutely terrifying 
to disclose your internal wars  

ones you didn't know existed 
ones you hoped long had healed 
rooms suddenly opened 
that you thought would always be sealed 

it's painful for a moment 
maybe for years 
to be faced with the reality 
of all your worst fears 

worst-case scenarios 
people that walk away 
you're sitting in an empty guest room 
in which nobody wants to stay 

or at least that's what you think
your best friend sits on the bed 
your mom opens windows 
your lover kisses you on the head 

you realize the impact 
that you've made on others 
overly cautious daughters
make for well-meaning mothers 

locked rooms collect dust 
tears, when they open 
and they're not for everyone
just the ones that let hope in

let yourself grow

con amor siempre,

celia <333