The Day I Died

Sensitive content note: This story includes themes of emotional neglect, spiritual despair, abandonment, identity loss, and soul death. It may be triggering for those who have experienced similar invisible pain.

Are you there, God? It's me, your faithful Juliana. Before, you might have known me as Vera, or "Verinha," as everyone used to call me since I was a child. I always thought it was a sweet nickname, but everyone who called me "Verinha" made me feel small. Now, I go by Juliana.

You know, God, I had to start over many times. But only this time did I change my name. I thought, if I died, then it only made sense to come back with a new name. Don't You agree?

The people I left behind in my country they all used to call me Verinha. And they still do. They don’t even know that Verinha died.

God, do You remember me when I was a child? I talked with You many times, even if everyone told me You didn't exist. You know, I talked with You and my imaginary friends because no one ever truly saw me. I learned to be quiet. I learned to silence my voice to avoid conflict. I learned that my feelings were “too much” for the chaotic place I was living in. The very place where I was supposed to feel safe and protected was actually the place of danger.

But I always believed in You... And, I asked so many times, if You could give me a real family. A family that could love me. This one was not real, at least not for me. It was fake. Because real families love without conditions, right? And that is all that I wanted, to feel safe and loved for who I really was. But I was too much...

The new family never came. And I became like a ghost, the kind that comes from the other side. I spoke, but no one heard. I felt, but no one acknowledged. I saw, but they called it "fantasy", even crazy. They would say: "those are just things in your mind."

But I always had a fierce imagination. My dreams became my safe place, and my mind, my inner sanctuary. I created stories about unconditional love; I created friends that only I could see; rainbows full of wonder... and at the end of each one, there would be a treasure. Waiting, just for me. And I believed, like in every fairy tale, that my happy ending one day would come. And finally, I would be celebrated, as I deserved. There is nothing more magical than the true faith of a child, don't You agree?

Poor thing… Such a good girl, so sweet, pure, innocent, and caring. But You know, God, the world You created is a cruel one. Especially for girls like that. They get devoured. Their hearts, those wide-open, radiant hearts, are stepped on, ridiculed and misunderstood.

I understand that this wasn’t the world You meant to create, because Your values are high. But if that’s the case, then the humans who live here turned Your paradise into a living hell.

This world has so many beautiful things: the color of the sky, the sea, the trees, the flowers of different shapes and colors, the birds that sing enchanting melodies, the rainbow that tears through the sky in the middle of a storm… it’s simply beautiful.

Even now, after all these years here, I’m still amazed by butterflies, by the tenderness of dogs jumping and wagging their tails when they see the ones they love, by the curiosity and mystery of cats. You know, I adore owls, who see through the night. And of course… the moon. When it’s full after a summer day, with those orange colors in the sky at sunset… it’s just magical.

Ahhhh… and love. Love is the most beautiful thing. That connection between two souls, with two hearts beating in unison in an embrace… it’s one of the most sacred things You created. Like two souls dancing to the rhythm of the same music.

But You know? The world is unfair. It doesn’t value any of that. They see it as weakness, not strength. And if love was one of Your biggest creations, does that mean they also see You as weak?

When You sent me here, You said it was going to be hard. But nothing prepared me for what I found here: the coldness, the indifference, the cruelty. People look at me the way they look at You. They don’t see me… as if I were invisible.

Just like You, God, they only see You or believe in You when they need help. Because every time "Verinha" needed someone, no one was there to hold her hand. They never took her hand when she reached out, be it in offering or in need. Instead, they gave her names that weren’t hers.

So, that is why I know how You feel. I know what it’s like to be ignored when all we want is unconditional love, that true love only You know. If You even have feelings…

To me, You are pure energy. You are love in high consciousness. Maybe feelings are something exclusive to humans. Maybe it is how we read energy. And maybe that’s how You speak to us: through our feelings. Maybe...

You know, God… despite all the beauty of this world, its darkness killed me. It wasn’t like a truck suddenly running me over. It was a slow and painful death... piece by piece, the kind no one should ever go through. Until there’s nothing left...

But the world keeps spinning, unaware of the miracles it crushed. Unaware that the purest flowers were never meant to bloom in concrete.

Even before I was born, my death was already written. I never stood a chance. I spent all these years crawling like a caterpillar infested with parasites, when You told me I would fly like a butterfly. And I transformed myself. I buried the caterpillar within me, was reborn as a butterfly, but I still can’t fly.

Verinha disappeared. Never to return. Carried away by the wind, on a stormy day. And when the storm passed, and no rainbow appeared… do You think anyone noticed?

She tried so hard... She tried everything she could and couldn’t, even when she had no more strength. But even then… no one saw her. She remained invisible. The love she gave was never enough. It was only mistreated, just like people mistreat the beauty of Your world today.

And You know? Verinha asked so many times: “God, what did I do to deserve so much pain? Please, help me understand!” And from Your side… all she got was silence.

Sometimes I still see magic in the little things. Faith was always there. The faith that love would be enough to touch people’s hearts, like You touched mine.

When I felt the wind on my freckled face, I’d say: “I’m not alone. God sees me. God will never abandon me.”

But then, came another pain. Another betrayal. Another abuse. Another indifference. Another emptiness. Once again, my soul shattered into a thousand pieces, like a mirror slashed on the ground. And there I was, alone, putting them back together like a puzzle of a million pieces.

How many times did I do that? I don’t even know. I lost count. Until one day… I died.

Faith died. Hope faded. Joy vanished. No fairytale ending... just silence. I was no one.

And so I thought to myself: "How can someone die while their body is still alive? Is that even possible?"

And yes, it is. It’s far more painful than physical death. It’s like being burned alive without the relief of dying. Because this was the death of the soul.

And when the soul dies… Am I really alive?