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.
