LIVING IN A CAGE

    I spent a lot of time living in a big and comfortable castle. There, I felt safe—so safe, it became my home. When I used to look out of the window, I saw a beautiful garden with so many paths, each one leading to an uncertain and unexpected ending. Nothing compares to what was expected of me in my safe place in the world. There were no sudden shocks here, let alone unforeseen endings; even though there were times when I could feel it staggering a little bit, I was so used to being there that I would not mind it.

          

    Every time I stood up close to the window to look at the garden, I would deeply feel like getting out of there, but each time I would see the door, I thought it would be difficult—almost impossible—to get it opened. That door looked like it was heavy and locked. Having it opened would not be an easy job, and if I was able to unlock it, being as heavy as it seemed, trying to move it would be another impossible thing to do. Until one day, the wind came blowing so hard that it staggered all around me.

           

    I was so used to the wind blowing and shaking everything a little bit, but this time was different. This wind rocked my whole world. Everything around me started to crumble away. I always thought that the columns holding my castle were made of steel; however, in reality, they were nothing but crystal. All of a sudden, the floor started to become fragile and unsteady. There was just one way out: that heavy and locked door. If I wanted to stay alive, I would have to open it. I could not believe that my safe place in the world was crumbling away right in front of my eyes. This place, which always seemed stable, was letting me see its real face.

            

    This place was nothing but a little unstable cage, which I was accustomed to living in. The hard blowing of the wind made me push against the door. When I got out of there, it was a huge surprise. The door had never been locked. It had always been opened; I did not realize it before. I always thought that getting out of there would be very difficult; perhaps I would never make it, but the heavy storm gave me no other option: either I have that door opened or I die. When I turned around to see it, it was not really as big as I thought. Also, the door was lighter than what I had imagined, and once out there, I knew it. I realized I would never be able to live behind bars. My world changed as I opened up my mind to the abstract.

           
    I thought I knew everything, but the more I learn, the more I realize there is a lot more left for me to get to know yet. The more I walk, the more I discover there is so much more left to travel, and the more I see around, I find myself surprised even more.

SMILE AND WALK

In the short time I have lived, I have learned that, even though I don’t know what´s to come tomorrow, going steadily would allow me to reach my destiny firmly. I have learned that, since I let go of the heavy luggage I was carrying and started traveling light, I get to see the beautiful things in life, such as a lovely sunrise and the pretty sunset colors by the shore of the sea that take your breath away. And even though I do not know what the future holds for me, I have decided to live today as if it were a gift God has given me. It is not bad, every now and then, to remember that today is yesterday’s future. When I learned to give and let go, it was the time I gained the most. I also have learned that it does not take much money for you to be happy, and if all you have is today, you definitely learned how to live with what you have. In my life, I have seen the honest and tender smile of a child selling flowers and those ineffable grins from children jumping and pumping themselves on a swing. It taught me that being considered rich for having a lot of money does not make you wealthy, and being considered poor for having so little does not necessarily make you unfortunate.

 

The reason why we use these words to define one or another is because we take them from socially degrading contexts; perhaps we do not know the real meaning of these terms since true wealth is about having a noble spirit who gives away, expecting nothing in return. Poverty lays in the hearts of those who can only think of themselves, unable to be thankful for the precious gift of life, so that we are the only ones who decide how poor or rich we can be. I have seen people who have done so much with so little and those who have done so little with so much. Ludwig van Beethoven is an illustrative example of this. His father was an alcoholic, and his mother died of tuberculosis, causing his father to fall deep into drinking, and after a while, he would end up in jail. Young Beethoven could do nothing but take on the responsibility of fending for himself and their little brothers, and despite losing his ability to hear, he became the first independent composer, artist, and orchestra director in history. He created magnificent pieces of work that left an unforgettable mark on the world. His life is one of the most accurate examples of showing that everything is possible if you truly want it.

 

I learned from my mother that we must try to put on a brave face in bad times, and we have to live up each day with enthusiasm. If I’m in need of some piece of advice, she will be there for me, encouraging me with such complicity of hers. From my father, I learned that, in order to make a six-year-old girl feel safe, you should only cover her up at night and stay there until she has fallen asleep. I also learned that if I want to get support and find people who to share my ideas with, even the craziest ones, my friends will always be there to laugh with and cry whenever it is necessary. I can act a little immature around them if it pleases me, and everything will be all right still. Despite the fact that I can count my friends in just one hand and I still have fingers left, I do not need a million friends to be happy. Quantity never overcomes quality. I learned that, on many occasions, the absence of people around me has done me well since it has helped me to know myself inside. Being alone with myself has taught me to be a better person when I’m in company. I learned that, sometimes, you can be distracted by the noise, but silence can scream out loud who you truly are.

 

From love, I have learned that the only way to enjoy it fully is by showing myself just the way I am, in all of my facets, good and bad ones too. I learned that there can be sex without love and love without sex, and the sweetest and tenderest of caresses is given with opened eyes and felt with closed eyes. I learned to laugh out loud and cry incessantly if I needed to; likewise, I learned not to hide my sneezing but to sneeze loudly, and when I do so, the sobbing feelings go away completely. No matter how hard I try, I will never be able to hide my feelings, and that makes me authentic. Whatever happened yesterday prepared me for today, and today I am getting ready for tomorrow. I am not better or worse than anyone but simply the best version of myself, with virtues and flaws, and in the hardest times, there has always been someone reaching out their hand for me so that I can climb another step. This someone has lots of names: Lord, Prince of Peace, Jehovah, or God, but among all of these names, my favorites are: Father and Friend. Even though there is still a lot for me to do, I keep believing in Him as if I were a little girl. His glory shall never grow apart from me, and sooner than later, He will rain over me with blessings and continue showing me what is left ahead for me to smile and walk. 

Lost To Win

I kneeled down and picked up the piece of wood. It had the name his executioner crowned him with written on it: “Prince of the Jews." I wonder which messages he preached to offend them. Perhaps I am wrong, and they were not offended by any message but his life style because his way of living always becomes offensive to everyone, whether self-proclaimed wise men or masters, whose actions go backwards to their preaching. Perhaps it was the true reason why they killed him with so much hatred. He never allowed himself to live a half-life, and the convictions that made him live fully are the same reasons why he gave his life for: 

“You shall love your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength; and you shall love your fellows as yourself.” Mark 12:30-31. These beliefs took him to the cross without any complaint whatsoever. Even though he knew only a few words would have been enough to put their accusers out of the game, he valued his mission more than his very own life since his passion for living lacks sense if it does not have a reason to die for.

As I hold this piece of wood, my eyes get lost on the horizon, and I cannot help but cry, and I tremble as I know the details of how they unjustly accused him, how they tortured and offended him, although, now that I think straight, I took part as well in that party who took his life. Just like them, I spoke ill of others many times; on more than one occasion, I hurt other people in spite of knowing how much harm my words were causing. What about all those times when I cowardly lied and justified myself, believing I was not damaging anyone? Oh, I am not a better person than those who demanded your death! I am as guilty as they are, but you knew pretty well what you were doing to leave no doubt at all of the true reasons why you gave up your life. 

With a superhuman effort, you pronounced the words that set me free: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing!” Whoever wants to follow him will be received with arms wide open. He gives reasons to live for and, with a tender voice, says to them, “Your heart brought you here, so follow it. If you listen to your heart, you will be all right. It will take you to places you have never imagined before; even your dreams will come true, and everything will be more incredible than you ever dreamed of. You can always seek my advice as much as you need it and stay as long as you want. You earned that right the very same moment you broke those mental barriers that prevented you from creating your own story. This moment has just begun.

A PROBLEM IS AN OPPORTUNITY

   The time for changes does not always come by itself; sometimes, there are necessary steps to take in order to make these changes happen. Every time we get into something new, opportunities often appear disguised as problems, and therefore, it is very important to keep your eyes wide open to not let them pass by. I remember one of these opportunities where I thought that what I was going through was nothing but a waste of time, just a rough patch that, in the end, would not serve me at all. It was the year 2005, and on April´s Thursday in the morning, I got ready to get out of bed. My mother gave me her blessing, and in my hand, I carried a bag full of the product I would sell that day. My starting point was the bus station in Acarigua, a small city in Portuguesa, one of the farmer’s states in Venezuela, where I was born and raised. 

I got there, as usual, around eight in the morning, ready to take the next bus on its way to Valencia. Just getting to that terminal made me realize that a new day was about to begin, and surely I would have to face, beside other informal sellers, my fear of speaking in public. Since I had always been a very shy girl, speaking in public was quite a challenge for me; however, my city´s lack of employment left me no other choice.

 

    When I turned to my left, there she was, my strongest adversary—a seller who had been working in the buses for more than four years. She gave me a defiant look. It was her way to intimidate me and keep me out of her path. I still remembered the day I met her, and her greeting phrase was, “I hope you won’t get in my way if you want to keep that face of yours in one piece!” She was the leader of a group of five girls who had been selling in that zone for four years; she was so cowardly, I looked down. I knew she meant what she said for one of the guys nicknamed “Mente” (Spanish word for mind), who used to sell coffee and has already warned me about them.

    Mente was a not-so-tall, thin, brown-skinned man, and he used to always wear sunglasses. I remember Mente not only telling me everything about those girls, but he also gave me a brief summary of the things I would see in that lawless town called motorway toll, something I was so grateful for; however, as time passed, I found out “Mente” was a well-earned nickname for someone who used to get along with everybody, but he was nobody´s friend. 

    Simply put, Mente was somebody who would always know how to tip the balance in favor of him so that he would get away with any problem; besides, he was capable of doing a report without omitting a single detail of the abundant stories in that place where authorities would turn a blind eye to what was going on around them and where the law of the strongest prevailed. Mente advised me to not pretend to be a heroine and stay away from those girls, as far away as I could. I took that on board and decided to do my best to go unnoticed. 

 

    “Hey, Muchacha! The bus is about to leave!” Said to me the collector of the bus I was waiting for. In Venezuela, it is used to have, apart from the bus driver, another person who collects the fare passengers pay, so that way, the driver will only take care of the road. I got on the bus, and it started off. My heart was beating a mile a minute, for I knew that in almost ten minutes, I would have to speak right in front of forty-five people loudly, so that everyone would hear me confidently in order to convince them all that my product would be useful, but at the same time, graciously, so I would have their affection and therefore create a trusting environment. Although they were aware they could buy my product anywhere else, they would feel the necessity to get it from me. 

    The product to offer that day was "toothbrushes." I know you may wonder, “What can you say about a toothbrush?” Yet, you would be surprised at the excuses sellers use to promote anything they have in their hands. On one of those occasions, while I was waiting at the terminal for the bus to leave, an old man sitting on one of the benches asked me, “What is it you sell?” to what, with a bit of sadness in my eyes and no enthusiasm at all, I answered: “Toothbrushes, sir!” The old man got up from the bench while he held up his stick, and looking right into my eyes, he said to me, “You still have a lot to learn, Muchacha, because this is not about what you sell, it is about you! Don’t forget it!” If it had depended on me, I said to myself, I would not be here. If only I had a better option… if only… Oh, that ten-year-old little girl who dreamed of traveling and visiting other continents! She did not deserve this; I had failed her. I felt, though, as if life slapped me right there, waking me up from my daydream. 

    The minutes had passed already when the collector looked at me with a gesture that said, “It’s time!” I got nervous, as usual, in the first bus, and as the day went on getting in and off the buses, the nervousness faded away; it was like breaking the ice for me. In a certain way, that first bus set my mood for the rest of the day. So, if you are afraid of doing something, the best you could do is get it done without giving it too much thought. I used to stand on the bus aisle, holding myself still between two of the first seats as the bus kept on the road, filling my lungs with as much air as I could hold, and there my day started: “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! The product I am going to give you won’t make you itch or bite you, so you can see it without any obligation.” I walked till the bus aisle´s end, delivering toothbrushes to everyone there, then I stood back again between the first two seats and gave my final speech. Normally, I used to end up saying something funny that would make people burst into laughter and, at the same time, make me look spontaneous. When we reached the first motorway toll, I got off the bus with my bag a bit lighter; however, there were a few more buses to take before it was completely emptied. Back in those times, motorway tolls were the places where every car or bus driver should stop briefly just to pay for a tax fare established by the government to transit on that highway.

 

    As I expected, when I got to the motorway toll, those girls were there with that menacing look always. They were used to fighting, and as the newbie myself, I was invading their territory. At the motorway toll, everybody respected them. Nobody dared mess up with them. They had built a tough girls’ image and had gotten rid of every seller who got in their way. Every time I saw them, Mente’s piece of advice came to  mind so that I would stay out of trouble. I waited a little bit more before I could take the next bus, for these should be the ones they used to leave behind; normally, these left-behind buses would have few passengers, and so I used to make my day out of left-behind buses. Now that I think back, I realize that it was not easy to see them smirking. I am pretty sure behind those defiant looks, each and every one of them must have had a sad story to tell.

 

    That morning, when I got out of my place, there was a cloudy sky. It was a storm approaching, and everything got more complicated since finding shelter from the rain was not simple, and even though the motorway toll had a roof all over, informal sellers were not allowed to wait for the buses under it. So we usually would have to take shelter from the sun under a leafy big tree settled aside the motorway toll, and every time we spotted a bus in the distance, we would run to catch it at the brief stop they had to make in order to pay the fare to transit. The storm was relentless. Under the big tree, there were only three informal sellers when the rain started: Mente, who used to sell coffee; a boy who sold some coconut-type sweets; and myself with my bag of toothbrushes. Each of us ran to take shelter whenever we could. I had my bag knotted and ran to an old abandoned kiosko, which only had the roof still standing above, a few meters from the motorway toll. I got it all soaked and placed my bag on the floor. As I waited for the rain to pass, a thought took hold of me and I constantly said to myself, “This is just a passing situation! Hold on a bit more! Just as this storm, this situation will pass too, for in the book of your life, there´s so many pages still to be written.

 

    That inner voice was right. Around six months later, I saved some money, and with my mother’s help, I would have enough to move out of state and start a cabin crew member course. As the years passed by, I could travel to Europe, learn English, and one day, when looking for a job, I would be given the chance to be part of a tourist company’s seller’s group. I think I complained so much when I was going through all those things, but I never imagined that experience would be so vital for me to perform satisfactorily in what I do now. Even though in the book of my life there are many pages still to be written, I have decided to appreciate the lesson of this moment, which is also preparing me for greater things than myself.

    For this reason, never underestimate any situation you are going through. Probably, it is the previous training for what is expected of you. After ten years, I finally understand that old man’s words: “This is not about what you sell; it is about you!” It was never about the toothbrushes, but the life lesson that situation was giving me and my attitude towards it despite the circumstances in which I was living. This is why I only tell you that it is not about divorce, loneliness, breaking up, financial crisis, age, deceptions, who let you down, sickness, widowhood, or any circumstance you are going through. This is and always will be about you.

How To Recognize A Good Day

 

  

    A good day is not always the one where we laugh the most and our hearts jump out of joy. A good day is when, in the middle of difficulties, you are grateful for what you have; you look back and see your life as if it were a movie where scenes are passing by showing you the different stations of your lifetime, and it leads you to understand that what you have been through prepared you for this specific moment, so those times you considered bad moments helped you to forge and shape your character; and therefore, what you are going through right now, as well, prepares you for something so big you could not even imagine.

     For this reason, the best days are not birthday’s parties or when there are parties to attend. The best days are those you look back on and know there are so many good things in your life you cannot explain, but what makes them great is precisely not finding an explanation for them. Life is like a train where you go from station to station until you reach your destiny, only to realize that it was necessary to go through all these stations in order to get to that place waiting for you. You may have taken longer at one station than at another, yet what really matters is not how long it takes you to get there but in what way you do it. The best way to arrive at your destiny is lightly weighted but firmly; knowing the crossed road has trained you for a good day like today.

To The Best Friend Ever

    Today, I was walking on the street when a little boy smiled at me as he passed me by. His smile was so tender; I could not get him out of my mind for the rest of the day. It was one of those moments where words were not needed, and therefore, I could not help but think of you and how my life has changed since I met you.

    Since the moment I met You, I have smiled more, all the reasons I have to live for are even less selfish, and I have found out that by helping others, it is me who I am helping the most. I know that if you are with me, I am invincible, and it makes me feel like taking on the world. What I have gained from my experience with you has made me confidently stand up to life; every challenge has been a beautiful lesson, and every difficulty has pushed me to go on. Obstacles have forged my character, and even though I admit I have cried more than once, it was fundamental to make a stronger individual out of me.

    Each challenge I have to face is bigger than the ones before, so it tells me you trust me more every day and you are preparing me for greater things. I have decided to think of You as someone who is boundless, and it makes me want to get to know You more every time, keeping me at the expectations of what You might do next and contemplating your beauty in the tender smile of a child who is willing to give it all for love; and as he smiles back at me, I can only say, Thank you, Jesus! 

 

LIVING FOR A DREAM

   

    Sitting on the sand by the shore of the sea, I let a soft sigh escape while watching the comes and goes of waves. In the distance, clouds overshadow the sun as a reminder that summer was far away, so shining on in all its glory was only allowed every now and then. Closing my eyes, I let myself be taken by the sound of lapping waves. I could feel the cold winter wind on my face, making the trails of my hair dance along with it.

    In my mind, a whirlwind of thoughts was raising a lot of questions, but among them all, a few constant ones would remain. “Where would dreams go to?” “What happened to all those people who ever dreamed of taking on the world?” “How did great inventions, one way or another, end up in a sort of dream’s graveyard?” I went that far in my pondering; I even imagined how this dream’s graveyard would be and, more so, what sort of unfulfilled visions someone might find there. The Dream’s Graveyard is a place so rich and so poor at the same time. There, I saw half-finished paintings, books whose endings were never written, and so many other unfinished inventions that might have changed the world into a better place to live if their creators had made more effort to bring them to life. 

 

    Walking through that place, I perceived traces of discoveries that would never come to life. I saw over some debris, written on a piece of paper, that there was a cure for cancer. Surprisingly, it was based on a heavy dose of a vitamin people commonly take. I kept on walking, and not far from that piece of paper, I spotted a tube-shaped machine. It was transparent and had a noticeable mingle of cables inside, and all these cables process the carbon dioxide found in the car’s combustion, which is frequently released into our environment through the tailpipe, changing the oxygen composition. The machine's function was to transform the carbon dioxide into a non-contaminant gas.

    Shocked by everything I came across, just a few meters from that machine, I spotted a sort of book that stood out among some debris and looked like a sort of manual. It was intact and kept in good shape, even though it was obvious how long this book had been there, unopened. Covered all over by dust, the abandonment of the latter was noticeable. I could not contend with myself; I was intrigued by its appearance and the way it looked so undamaged. Just by staring at it, I was filled with curiosity. I had to see what was in that sort of manuscript, so I took it into my hands. 

 

    It was a bit heavier than I would have imagined. I opened it to read it, and the more I read it, the more I was inspired by it. For me, it was an invitation to believe in the impossible. Quickly, I realized it was just a movie script. The writer had a great imagination and a unique talent for the ideas in this script that could revolutionize the world; however, once again, other great inventions had been left behind and forgotten. I stood there, right in front of such a magnificent piece of work, watching it considerately. I thought that people in the world had no idea what this script could do to their lives if only they read it. 

    I opened my eyes and saw the little sunlight that the clouds allowed to shine. The sun was hiding away more and more, and night was about to come. The wind was also getting colder, and I started to think about how much I missed summer. There are so many things we take for granted that we only appreciate them when they are long gone. Likewise, I thought of the dream’s graveyard and how I forgot to take the writer’s name of that fabulous script. At twilight’s arrival, homesickness invaded me, but I pushed away that feeling as soon as I saw it coming. I wondered, What would have happened to those people who had dreamed of all these things? Also, I asked myself, What would have happened to them if instead of giving up, they had dared to look up to their own future? What would have occurred to them if only they had seen the impact their creative inventions could have had on humankind? So I closed my eyes and heard the striking lapping of waves once again. The wind, even though it was more freezing, could not stop me from dreaming awake.

 

    Suddenly, I saw myself walking on a lonely street. Only one or two people could be seen walking over there. Looking up to the distance, a clock could be spotted on the top of one tower; it seemed small from where I was, but I thought that, if, being this far, the clock looked that way, perhaps it truly was much bigger than I saw it. So then, I decided to get there and contemplate it closer. I started walking in the direction of that tower when, right on the path, one of the few people caught my attention. 

    She was walking on the opposite side of me, and even though she was not quite near, she was slowing down. Her walk was different from the others; it denoted strength and elegancy; she walked with the confidence that only people who have overcome great battles have learned that mistakes are mere deviations on the road to success, and that caught all my attention intensely. She had such confidence in her eyes and a triumphant air I have not seen very often in other people. 

    She fixed her eyes on me; in that moment, there was no need for words, and I simply smiled. Her appearance said it all, and her confidence made me feel sure everything would be all right, while her sudden grin would invite me to resist a little more. She passed by my side, softly patting my shoulder as she kept walking. I stood there in the middle of the street, watching her leave, until I lost sight of her.

 

    I open my eyes and it was dark night already. My hands were almost frozen, but a feeling of determination filled me up. I knew that, even though nightfall was just looming, breaking dawn was even closer, and that same row and fiercely lapping of waves would be peaceful and calm in the next morning, and a shining sun bathed them, inviting me to live for a dream, to live passionately, for dreaming and living relentlessly are the best ways to spend our lives.

Life

    Oh life, that goes away, that passes by. That goes so fast that it is almost imperceptible. You once were so naive, full of dreams, hopes, and illusions. Then you turned into desires, soon to become a reality. I wonder, when did you become this? When did I start desiring what once was an illusion, and those moments when I felt I touched the sky passed to my memories?. You are like a sigh. I close my eyes, and you are gone. I open them. We close our eyes, and you are laughter, dreams, and illusions, but then we open them, and suddenly you are a reality full of lies; you are gone! So fast that I missed the best of you. 

    

    I could compare you to a shooting; the moment I saw you, you faded away. That you have become to me. Oh, what wouldn't I give to go back in time so I could laugh a little more, to see the sunset and enjoy again those precious little things that you offered me, to say all those things I didn't for fear? There are things in life that we can practice until perfect, but you don't give us that chance; either we live and enjoy what we are given or you pass so fast and we are left behind. I cannot go back to that laughing child to whom everything was possible; still, shall she live inside of me, encouraging me to face what's ahead? The only thing left to do for me is to enjoy everything that you give as much as I can, as if it were the last of my days, and not think of what could have been but wasn't. 

A Noble Profession

    You who wake up every day knowing that your day will start by mending nets, so then you would sail and throw them in the sea; I am awed to see that even when you are not certain if your nets will be filled, that doesn't stop you from trying again; you are like those who won't surrender even before the greatest of tempests; you learned your work since you were young, and bad times have taught you that patience, more than a gift, is an action that, with the passing of time, becomes a virtue. 

    To those who ask you, when will your work be finished? Your answer is never that there are always nets to mend and seas to explore. For you, fishing is the greatest reward you get for a job well done. You have learned to keep calm in the worst of times, and this has made you able to know when is the right time to throw your net. Fisherman, as I watch you from my balcony, I reflect on how much I have to learn from you. Your noble profession makes me appreciate more the art of drawing with words, which, by grace, heaven has gifted me with.

Exposure and response

                                            

 

    The wind blows fiercely, and the clouds block the radiant sun that resides behind them. The tropics and its warm sea depart while saying, “See you soon." The Mediterranean said “hello,” and the voice of those who struggle for a better tomorrow continues to fight to be heard. Meanwhile, an orange sweater keeps me warm, and a light backpack facilitates my voyage. The warmth from facing the right direction motivates me, dissipating the fear and giving me resilience. To live one day at a time has become the philosophy of life; risk and adventure have become the best of allies; and while the clouds appear opaque, the radiant sun soon will bring the summer and release its splendor. A new challenge begins to expose me to the unknown, provoking my reaction to create an interesting path, all while always showing me who I really am.

An unconquerable spirit

    

    You told me that I couldn't; I'll show you I can. When you throw me out the door, I’ll go through the window. You told me that my background was the reason why I am not perfect; I will show that, thanks to that, I am special. You told me that my education was poor; I'll show you what you mean by "poor.” You gave me the tools to stand up in front of you. 

    You believed I bowed under the heavy loads placed on my shoulders; you were mistaken; that was just what made me stronger. You do not hate me; you are afraid of me. Deep down, you know that if you gave me just a little space, it would be impossible for you to stop me from doing what I want. What you do not know is that, no matter what, you won’t be able to make me stop, and I do not need your permission to leave my footprints on you. 

    More than once, the experience has taught me that a perfect structure always has a slight defect, something like a loose end that, at the end, remained unsolved because of a lack of time. A little slot where only the smartest people would go in. When I find it, I'll walk inside you, and before you notice me, I'll stand up in front of you with the dignity you thought you had taken away from me. 

    By the time you notice me, it will be too late, and you won’t have any other choice than to accept me just as I am, because you won’t stand the pain from the spine in your heel. I know that what most offends you about me is that when you look into my eyes, you see a free spirit rather than a broken one. You can weaken the spirits of the ones who never tried to fly because they are afraid of falling, but you will never get to weaken the unconquerable spirit of those who love to fly in freedom.