Growing up did not change much for Loura. It only made her more aware.
She grew taller, quieter, more careful.
She learned how to read a room and adjust herself accordingly.
She learned when to smile and when to disappear.
Teachers described her as polite. Classmates described her as nice.
No one ever described her as important.
She tried to be better.
Tried to be smarter, friendlier, more present. But effort never translated into recognition.
There were moments she wanted to scream, to demand space, to ask why it was so hard just to be noticed.
Instead, she swallowed everything and told herself it was fine.
Loura:
Maybe I am not meant to stand out.
Maybe my purpose is just to pass through quietly.
But why does it hurt so much to accept that?
She carried that question with her everywhere.