Valentina’s hands trembled as she held it. She was thirty-four now, not twenty-three. The girl who had written this letter had been fresh out of a breakup that felt like a death, drowning in a job she hated, living in a studio apartment with a leaky faucet that cried with her every night.
But here’s what I need you to know: you survive it. Not the movie version where you bounce back and become a CEO. The real version. The one where you learn to make tea again. Where you go back to that park bench where you used to sit together, and you sit there alone, and you don’t die. The sun sets. You go home. You brush your teeth. You do it again the next day. Libro Querido Yo Vamos A Estar Bien
I’m not saying it becomes easy. I’m saying it becomes worth it. Valentina’s hands trembled as she held it
Te quiero. No te rindas.
We are going to be okay. Not perfect. Not fixed. But okay. And okay is a beautiful place to live. But here’s what I need you to know: you survive it
Right now, your chest feels like it’s caving in. You’re googling “how to stop crying” and “is this normal” and the internet is making it worse. I know. I’m you. I’m writing this from the other side.
You will forget who you are. That’s the scariest part. But then, slowly, you’ll remember. You’ll remember that you love yellow flowers. That you laugh too loud at your own jokes. That you’re afraid of flying but you love airports because of the possibilities.