Mine are all of those who make mistakes, apologize and come back, always. They are the ones who cry, shout and laugh in front of me, those who are not ashamed. Mine are the ones that are worth fighting for, you know? Those who accepted me entirely as I am, without objections or criticism. They are the ones who bought the one-way ticket and put me on the plane, costing them much more than I’ll ever know. Mine are the ones that make me come back.
My people are the ones who know me, those who encourage me to be my best. Those who have built these wings for me. You, who are my own, are responsible for my wrinkles of expression. The target of my sarcastically black humor, witness of my joyful madness and my (rare) moments of drunkenness. You, who are of mine, know the intentions of my big eyes and recognize the feelings of my thousand laughs and smiles. You value my battles and accept my, weird, personality. If at any time you experienced, live and colors, my stage stories, with the voices, mimes and movement it’s because your mine. We have already shared stories and bottles, but never awkwardness or silence. You, who know that I laugh of others, for you, at you, but even more of me, are mine. I’m so glad for my people!
You know that I am all touch, words, kisses, hugs and slaps of love. So, you know I love giving and receiving sweaty hugs and dirty-mouthed kisses, and since I don’t function with safety distances I need to feel mine, need them close.
That’s why I write for my friends and family. They deserve to know I appreciate them, how they help me grow, without judging or diminishing me. My people protect, scream and accommodate. They hold me tight and let me fly.
I laugh, cry, mourn, dance and sing with mine, and so I am yours too. Tears of gratitude surround my smile. Thank you to mine! It is with all my humility and pride that I thank you. I am a lucky girl to have you, I would not choose others, and my little army comes with me. Mine do not stay, they are always with me. Are we all? Roll call!
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