Catherine May Salinas

Hi, do You Know me?

The things that you know are just the mere ripples on the surface of the deep ocean that is my
existence. Being exposed to an environment where survival meant always putting my best foot
forward, I became a master of adaptation. I honed the art of filtering and adjusting myself to fit
seamlessly into any situation I found myself in. It was a survival tactic, a way to navigate my
world that demanded constant compliance.

In the recesses of my mind, there exists a delicate balance between the number of dreams I
hold close to and the number of fears that haunt me. It's a curious equilibrium, a see-saw that
tilts one way or the other, depending on the day. You see, these dreams are the stars that light
my path, the constellations of my aspirations, each one gleaming with hope. But for every
dream lies a corresponding fear that casts a shadow, a shadow that overpowers the light that’s
reaching me.

On most nights, I feel lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, questioning the very purpose of my
existence. I grapple with thoughts that I'd rather keep hidden, thoughts that whisper in the
darkest corners of my mind, suggesting that maybe, just maybe, it would be easier to let go of
this facade and embrace the abyss.

It's a peculiar paradox, really, because I yearn to open myself to others, to expose the
vulnerable, imperfect parts of my soul. I long for that connection, that genuine understanding
that only comes when we bare our true selves. Yet, there's a hesitation, a reluctance that roots
itself deep within me.

I fear the consequences of unveiling my vulnerabilities. I'm afraid that if I show you the cracks in
my armor, you might leave. You might deem me no longer of use, like an old tool left to rust on a
forgotten shelf. It's a haunting thought, the idea that once you see the depths of my insecurities,
the intricacies of my fears, you might deem me expendable, dispensable.

So I smile and I laugh, I continue to appeal to how strong and independent I am. With my
insecurities hidden under my pockets, and sadness locked in the farthest corner of my heart, I
face to all of you the best version that I know of myself, a version made by him, made by them,
made by you. While it may seem unconventional, this is the only way I've come to understand
how to survive this life. Hoping that one day, I'll be able to shed the constraints of the weaker
version of myself and make the identity I consciously craft my reality.