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I left my parents' arms when I was 4 months old. When I turned one I went to an unknown city with two unknown people who, although one had my blood, I didn't know who they were. My mom was a 16-year-old teenager when she had me,,,, and she got pregnant with my sister when I was 6 months old. He had to work because our parents were irresponsible. The years went by. Birthdays came and I spent the whole day waiting for my parents to call. I just wanted that, I just wanted them to remember my birthday. Even though my adoptive parents tried to encourage me, nothing did it like telling a 5-year-old girl that her father doesn't remember her birthday. At 3 in the afternoon every 12/24 I would lock myself in my room and cry until I fell asleep until the 25th. From the time I was 5 to 11, that was my ritual every December. I hated that date. I hated the person who was born, I didn't ask him to be born, it was his responsibility .... anyway

With the passage of time ⏳ I began to forget it and swallow my feelings..... I began to lock myself in my world, there were no special days... from then until today I cannot record an important date in my memory.... since then my feelings are from me to me

Since that day I cried for the last time when I felt that my soul was opening little by little with each tear... since that day I stopped expecting something from someone since that day my emotions changed

Since then I became more quiet and reserved... I started studying English, drawing and mathematics I began to try harder and harder every day my smiles were counted and looking at the sky became my favorite activity.

Many times I fought with my mother, I told her to her face that that man was nothing of mine and that I didn't want to know about him. For her she was a spoiled brat, but seriously at that time she did hate him... I remember that when she came home from school she would go for a walk through the trees and places far from houses. As time passed, I became one of the best in mathematics and natural sciences, but he never appeared in my life.

When I was 18 years old I started going to therapy I started to heal and stopped hating him but that doesn't mean I want him in my life He has his life and his family behind me and that is fine for me. Maybe I'm bad, maybe I should try to meet him or at least call him but it doesn't come to mind Sometimes I forget his existence for months, it must be that his wife writes to me so that I remember his existence. I wish him the best always but far from me

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