Errores en el cálculo de la mirada

The error is to look at yesterday with the eyes of today,

Wanting things to be the same

When you are no longer the same,

As if you could recycle whispers

Or give the same kiss a second time.

The mute do not yell, the deaf do not see the music,

With the same letter that you spell late

You can't spell now,

The love that was, was and will never come back.

This isn't my poem, it was in Spanish but it's the only thing my grandfather left me after he died.

I'm at that fragile point in my life where I'm racked with insecurities, self hatred and, of course, body image issues. When a day has been too hard on me I like to close my and transport myself to a different time, to 2010.

In 2010 I am 15 years old, about to start my first year of high school. I tell my younger self to relax, to enjoy this period of my life. I tell younger me that everything will be okay, in the end everything finds a way to work itself out. I tell myself that he will break my heart, but I will survive, that I should take risks and I be confident. Then I ask my younger self what she thinks of me.

I imagine she says that I'm beautiful, that I'm everything she wanted to grow up to be. I imagine she says that I am her role model, someone she wants to emulate in appearance and attitude.

I open my eyes and return to my current time. I feel better about myself. Better about the young woman I became. I remember everything I went through in those five years and gain a sense of pride. Look at myself through different eyes, kinder eyes.

I love the season not for religious reasons, not because we get gifts, not for any of the reasons Charlie Brown or Dr. Seuss have taught us to love the season. I love the season because for a short while we believe that everything has always been, is and will always be alright. We were born righteous, hopeful, and this is the time to find out what for.

I was homeless, when I was 6 or 7 I lived in a women's homeless shelter with my mother and my younger brother. We didn't last there long but the time I did spend there helped me and, in a strange way, made me extremely self entitled and selfish. My mom got us ahead and now we're doing extremely well but I feel I deserve everything I have and more with little to no work. The experience made me jaded and unsympathetic to people's struggles. I live only for me. I care only about me. The hardship I went through, I went through alone, so why should I care about the world, the world never cared about me.