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I'm in my twenties, and I've spent far too much time trying to become someone who, in theory, should already know how to live their own life.
While everything on the outside kept moving forward, inside there was a constant conversation that almost never stopped: doubts that returned again and again, silent comparisons, the feeling of always being slightly out of place, as though real life were happening somewhere else-a little further ahead, somewhere I hadn't reached yet. I learned to function within that distance, to keep moving even without fully understanding where I was going.
This book was born from that place.
Not from one defining event, a dramatic collapse, or a life-changing revelation, but from something much slower and much harder to name: the exhaustion of constantly expecting myself to be someone different in order to feel at peace with who I was. It grew out of the process of learning to look at my thoughts without turning them into verdicts, of no longer treating every insecurity as proof of failure, and of discovering that not everything I feel needs to be solved immediately in order to be lived.
For a long time, I chased a version of myself that seemed clearer, stronger, more certain. And yet, what has gradually emerged is not a finished version of me, but something far more fragile-and far more real: a different way of being with myself, gentler, less urgent, less at war.
You won't find definitive answers here, nor certainties that neatly put everything into place. Only an attempt to hold space for what happens within instead of pushing it away; to learn how to live alongside uncertainty without turning it into an enemy; and to accept that perhaps life is not about becoming someone else, but about no longer abandoning myself while I continue being who I already am.
And, in the end, to stay.
"A veces no sé quién soy" - English version.