Have I ever seen who I am?
Does the image in the mirror reflect who I am?
The hundreds of photographs that recorded each phase of my life were able to capture my real image?
Sometimes it seems easy to describe yourself with tangible characteristics, my height, weight, hair color, my profession, my name, and my surname.
But does that determine who I am? Does it make me know the person behind all these labels?
Without a label can I describe me? Can I understand who exists beyond that? Can I see beyond the person standing in the mirror that each day sees itself differently?
More than all of that, can I love this person who doesn’t know how real it is? What do I have so many doubts about?
Each minute I try to find ways to answer these questions, sometimes they seem to be so far away, impossible to reach, and I feel that the time is passing, I’m losing myself, my life, and the opportunity to bloom as the spring comes.
One day, just for one day, I wanted my eyes to see the real image of that person reflected in the mirror. I wanted them to be able to see and love her, so she could have the answers to all her doubts and feel that she is free to go, to live, and to bloom.
