December 9th, 2024

I'll be turning 26 years old tomorrow, on
the 10th of December. I started writing several
years ago like it was a ritual, a form of
meditation—another way of mine to smoke
a joint. The past few years of my young adult
life have been like a hurricane, a whirlwind of
madness and ease colliding in the same field.
This year specifically, 2024, will forever
hold a place in my heart as one of the most
profound years of my life. I can only describe
it as a massive puzzle, with each unique piece
magically finding its place.

If you ever ask me if I believe in God, I can
tell you< now: "I know of God." We can call it
"surrendering" or "belief," but the faith in
myself and what I call "destiny" is the light
—my light. After this year's Thanksgiving,
I realized my current fortunes have come simply
through humility and integrity. I am thankful
for the goodness I come from and the badness
I have witnessed. I am truly blessed because
I can do and be whatever I want to be, I am
gifted with "you are here for a reason".

I hope to have many kids soon. I want to be
around them as much as I can. I wish to surround
myself with good people—or transform everything
around me into "better than good." I feel as though
I am just arriving at the peak of my adolescence.
Life is just beginning for me, and I'm so excited
because there is only one answer to it: just keep
going. I'm holding onto a treasure trove of gold
in words, thoughts, and experiences that I must
share. I come from a Colombian family rooted in
the chaos of cocaine, money, and music.

I love being American, but I am Colombian. I was
born in Flushing, Queens, so you can talk to me
about hip-hop culture. I was raised in South
Florida—I'm a bit country, a beach-bum, the
outdoorsy type, but I was also a gamer. I had
dreamed of playing competitive Halo and
Call of Duty, thinking I could drop out of
elementary school to "play full-time." Competition
and sports shaped me immensely, especially
through solitary challenges. School, on the other,
was more about "playing it safe" and occasionally
deciding to say "fuck it", regardless of the
the consequences.

I was quiet in school. I had a hard time building
friendships. Showing the world who I am has
been a long and gradual process. I cared deeply about
my identity—"what I could be known for." Being
a teenager for me was mostly about having fun with
drugs and music, while understanding sex and women.
I had been on a couple of dates, loved shortly and,
longed whole-heartedly. I lost my virginity at the
end of my junior year in high school. That same
year, I had my first job as a swim instructor for
local kids. I had also met a very special person.

I will never forget the joy and difficulty of
teaching kids who were either terrified or simply
uneducated about water safety. I built a tolerance
for tears and the young cats who were determined
to put up a fight. I witnessed how kids adapted
to new environments—or sometimes persuaded
us to give up entirely. That summer, I received
tips and handwritten notes with gift cards from
parents expressing their gratitude for my patience
and the impact I had on their children. I still keep
those mementos as souvenirs of such a meaningful
time in my life.

In Joy, Mi Frontera