Putas historias, putos escritos

There are things we never say.

Not always because we're afraid, but because saying them can hurt someone else. Because some truths, even when they are true, can still break people. Some words carry so much weight that we would rather swallow them than throw them onto someone else.

And that is when silence appears.

Not because it doesn't hurt.

It does.

But sometimes silence seems less violent than a truth spoken without anesthesia.

That is why we all keep stories.

Stories we never tell completely because we are ashamed, because we are afraid of being judged, or simply because we think nobody cares.

I kept mine too.

For years, I swallowed them with anger, guilt, sarcasm, and that smile one learns to wear when one doesn't want to explain the disaster inside.

Until one day, I got tired of staying quiet.

And when you truly get tired, there is no throat strong enough and no silence big enough to hold everything back.

I wrote because I understood that if I didn't get everything inside me out, I was going to end up tearing my own soul apart.

Because some pain cannot be healed by talking.

Some wounds only begin to close when you finally dare to write them.

But I did not write this book so anyone would feel sorry for me.

I did not write it so people would admire me.

And I most certainly did not write it to give lessons about life, love, or personal growth.

No.

This book was born because I needed to say things I had swallowed for years.

Because I was tired of pretending everything was fine when inside I was carrying a complete fucking mess that even I didn't understand.

And maybe that is why this book doesn't come clean.

It comes with anger.

With wounds.

With sarcasm.

With questions.

With memory.

With that part of me people repeatedly tried to silence, judge, or make more respectable.

And now…

Why Putas historias, putos escritos. Sarcástica, loca y puta como la vida misma?

Because I have sarcasm to spare.

Because people have called me crazy for as long as I can remember.

Because I've been called a slut more times than I can count.

And instead of denying it, I decided to turn the word into a flag.

Because you have to be very sane to survive in this fucking world, and crazy enough not to let it break you completely.

Then one day I understood something.

There are words that only hurt while you are afraid of them.

The day you make them yours, they stop being insults and become freedom.

That is why I decided to put them on the cover.

Not to provoke.

Not to scandalize.

But because that is also part of who I am.

I am sarcastic because life taught me that if you don't learn to laugh at your own disasters, you can spend the rest of your life crying over them.

I am a slut… just like life itself.

Because life also seduces you, makes promises, fills you with hope, makes you fall in love… and when you least expect it, turns its back on you and leaves you on the ground learning how to stand up alone.

And I am crazy because I still believe in people.

Because I keep helping even after being disappointed so many times.

Because I keep getting back up after falling.

Because I still dream.

Because I still write.

Because I still believe life is worth living, even when life itself can be one hell of a bastard.

But this book is not only about me.

It is about all of us.

Because all of us have loved someone we shouldn't have.

All of us have lost someone.

All of us have felt guilt.

All of us have forgiven too much.

All of us have broken at some point.

And every one of us, at least once, has had to pick up our own pieces without anyone coming to help.

So if you came looking for a perfectly ordered autobiography, maybe this isn't your book.

But if life has ever slapped you hard enough that you can still feel the sting…

Then sit down.

Because while you are reading my story…

…you will probably end up finding part of your own.