Luisa's Diary

Chapter 1: My heart in an Envelope

My brown trench coat pulled tight around my shoulders, I walked as if I knew my destination, though inside I was a wreck. My cherry-red Dr. Martens softly hit the pavement. In my hand, a sealed envelope—a secret I clutched, needing to deliver it to him for answers. Or perhaps, just to be heard, even by him.

Turning the corner, a punk band's blast spilled from a bar, bringing a faint smile to my face. That raw sound always grounded me, but now, my life felt like a chaotic concert—volume high, no clear melody.

The kiss, an accident or not, was a clumsy attempt to find something I thought I was missing. He saw it, but lately, he's been distant, our songs out of sync. My presence seems to bother him. This letter could change everything, for better or worse.

Across the street, Mauricio's Café glows with a warm light that stands in stark contrast to the gray afternoon. Inside, soft lights illuminate tables adorned with open books, creating a world apart. I take a deep breath, anticipating his arrival. He's not here yet, of course—he's never on time. I settle by the window, the envelope clutched in my hand. Slowly, I open it, as if revealing a hidden map. The paper carries the scent of my perfume. Last night, I poured my heart onto these pages, punk music thrumming in my room, each word a piece of myself: the kiss with Marisol, my doubts, my confusion.

"Good afternoon. What can I get you?" The waiter's voice pulls me back to reality. I quickly fold the letter, concealing it as something sacred. "An Americano, please. Extra strong."

Then, María Barracuda's song begins. That song. That voice. Those words: "Even if you say you love me, I just want to go far away..." It feels like a scream directed solely at me. Memories flood my mind: his pronouncements of me being "too loud," "too much"; my subsequent efforts to quiet myself, to hide my clothes, to hide who I am. I see myself apologizing for my strength, for speaking my mind, for simply existing as I am.

"Stop being so dramatic," my friends would say. "He loves you; he just has a strong personality." But they weren't there when he diminished me. My lips tighten. A hot, sweet fire of anger rises within me. Enough. No more apologies for being myself. No more contorting myself to fit a suffocating mold. This letter is the first step. Even if I don't know what will happen when he appears. Even if he never does... Today, I begin my walk towards freedom.