I don’t think I’ve ever been good at describing myself in just a few words. I never know where to start and, depending on where I start, I may have to go back even further, or skip a few chapters. That’s when I usually end up confusing everyone without even realizing it because, even though I’ve lived it, comprehending something out of order for someone who hasn’t lived it…not so simple? Not unless you’ve walked similar paths and then that’s another story entirely.
Born and raised in an island called Puerto Rico, often mistaken for a “gringa”. “Gringa” is a term generally used for a native English-speaking foreigner which is hi-la-rious when you consider I was not a foreigner. My family is from Puerto Rico and I was definitely born there. And English is not my native tongue, Spanish is, I just gravitated towards a lot of things in English (including books) and somehow picked it up awfully quick (even I don’t understand how). I was also considered a weirdo (that I have no interest arguing against).
I often lived in my own bubble (or, as mom would put it, in my cave aka room), playing video games, reading, writing, listening to music, and even after years of being in my late 20s (officially in my early 30s now, good gosh), I can’t say I have changed all that much. I’ve grown up. I’ve gained a better understanding of things. I’ve realized what’s important, for me, at least, but I still enjoy doing the things I did as a kid.
Writing is one of those things. My therapy, my advice to the world, my ramblings, my rants, my venting for the sake of venting—all of that may be found here, or not. Only time will tell.