@ramonoropeza 12 June 2025

Relief in the early morning. I write from the pain of being my own disappointment. From someone who lost everything and can't find their way. With my hands tired from holding a machete for four hours of work. I no longer dream; my goals are now urgent, unexpected problems that arrive one after another. I no longer know if I'm a victim of my country's system or my own decisions, of bad luck, or of all of them together. There are days I'd like to return to because perhaps I may have done something to deserve this. It's terrible to no longer be, to no longer feel. There's no clear path in my life now. The flame that burned within me has gone out, my passion for baking, my desire to get ahead, the fervent desire to leave something good in this world and in the lives of others. I am no longer that person. Crying and laughing don't feel the same when hope is gone. An empty heart, a soulless body, is the doom of the homeless. I only have a ray of light in the darkness of my mind, although with the passage of time I no longer understand many things, I will be with her and here until God allows it: my mother.