“The Certainty of Existence”

She had already traveled more than half of the path. The horizon stretched wide, blending promises and doubts. She wondered what the future held, yet she felt no need to control it. She finally understood that every step had its own time, and that life revealed itself not in perfect plans, but in the way she learned to respond to the unexpected. She did not give up, nor did she cling.

The past returned sometimes, not as an open wound, but as memory—a reminder of what had shaped her. She could not erase what had happened, but she had learned to see it through different eyes. Once, she had been made to believe she was worthless, that her voice was weak, that her presence was dispensable. And though those words weighed on her like stones, over time she discovered she could let them go. She learned to stop listening to voices that were not her own.

There were moments when she thought of giving her place to someone who truly wanted to live, moments when exhaustion seemed greater than the will to continue. Yet, over time, she found reasons to stay: small gestures, fleeting instants, a kind glance in the midst of the storm. Even when she felt empty, she understood that it did not take away her right to exist. Life, even in its apparent emptiness, held the possibility of a new beginning.

One day, sadness arrived. Not as an enemy, but as an unexpected visitor, the kind most people try to hide or push away immediately. She, however, welcomed it. She neither hid nor disguised it: she allowed it to speak. She knew it would not last forever. Tomorrow it would leave, but that day she let it be. For even that sadness had a message for her, something that brushed her mind and touched her wounded soul.

Through the years, she learned to view her story differently. She did not wish to speak it aloud, for it was only one among millions. She preferred written words: in them, she found refuge, a space to order the inner chaos. She had been her own judge, and that judgment had left her wounded—for pleasing, for resisting, for believing others would change, for holding faith when everything crumbled. Yet still, she chose to see the beauty: the colors of dawn, the landscapes unfolding after a storm, the small experiences that quietly shaped her. She realized her true goal was simple and profound: peace of mind. To live without fear.

Maturity brought another lesson: learning to step away. She left behind those who did not deserve even a second of her memory. The painful moments with them faded, almost erasing the faces that once made her feel on the edge of death. It was not easy, but every step forward was an act of dignity. In this process, she understood that she was not alone. Anyone who has ever felt empty or incapable of showing their true self could understand her.

In a world where intensity is uncomfortable and authenticity is judged, she discovered the key question: when is it possible to truly be oneself? And she found the answer: only when the gaze stops being fixed on others and begins to turn inward. Only then does the freedom to be oneself without asking permission unfold.

Finally, she understood that not everyone carries the same wounds, but those with deep scars must choose to stay. To breathe. To change the air. To stop looking at the same point. To speak to oneself with tenderness. Even silence can heal. For even when everything seems to collapse, there always remains that luminous spark that once made her believe the world was a fantastic place to live, to feel, to enjoy. That spark was still there, intact, reminding her that she had never ceased to exist.