What I Silenced All My Life

Maybe it was the first time they told me I was exaggerating.

Or when I learned that crying meant weakness.

Maybe it was that night I can’t erase, no matter how much I want to.

Or maybe it was before that — when I didn't even understand what was wrong, but I already felt the pain.

My name is Lucía Fernández, and this is the first time I'm writing without lying to myself.

For years, I built a false version of who I was:

the one who smiled in photos, who gave advice she couldn’t follow herself, who said "I’m fine" while screaming inside.

I became the woman everyone thought was strong, but deep down, all I knew how to do was hide.

Today, I no longer want to pretend.

Today, I begin to write what I silenced my whole life.

I’m not seeking pity, or forgiveness, or revenge.

I simply want to free every word I buried, every memory that burned me in silence.

If anyone reads this, I hope they realize they are not alone. They are not broken. They are not weak for feeling shattered.

This is not a story about heroes.

This is a story about survival.

My survival.