The wild child I buried is breathing again

The wild child I buried is breathing again

I know there is nothing left to do but to show myself and cry the very last tears over the pain that whispers, “It took you so fucking long to finally let yourself be seen.”

Since I was a little girl, I can’t remember a life where I was just free—wild, fearless, excited about the world. Most of my life, I was the shy girl, the one who never spoke. But when I exploded, people were surprised—suddenly interested in me. Not necessarily in a good way. People either love or hate you when you are your raw, unfiltered self.

My presence has always been a mirror. I show people their shadows without even trying. And in a world full of illusions, that makes you dangerous. So they called me the problem—because facing themselves was too much to bear.

You have to imagine—according to Human Design, I am a Manifestor with emotional authority. But my whole life, I lived like a Projector, waiting for an invitation that never came. Waiting to be seen. But I never was. And now, there is a fire inside me—a fire that will consume me if I don’t set it free.

For years, I believed that if I didn’t show myself to the world, I wouldn’t exist. So I made myself small, did what was expected, blended in. I thought it would keep my heart safe.

But now, at 22, I can’t hold this bullshit anymore. Every soul on this fucking earth is here to live their truth, right? My family never did. Whatever. I feel like I have to lose them. And I already lost my mom—at least for a while.

I hope. Little me hopes. Or, does she?

She is finally safe now, writing these words, because there is no one left to punish her by withdrawing their love.

And I am so fucking done with the old me—the one who never showed me to the world, never let the world in, never let me exist for the world.

And still, something holds me back. Even now, there is this invisible wall, keeping me from fully stepping into myself.

And I don’t mean I can’t talk about my feelings—I mastered that over the years. I was always the safe space for everyone around me. Just never for myself. I gave everyone so much room that I was left gasping for air.

I don’t even know why I wrote this. Maybe just to say—I decided to speak more English. I don’t feel safe in this language, but I know my people are everywhere in the world. So, yeah.

All I know is—I can’t walk this same fucking path anymore. And it felt important to let myself be seen.

So where, if not here?

Is anybody here going through a similar process or having a download to this?

Much love

Juline

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