Soliloquy: Fragments of an Infinite Body
Julian
The scene is bathed in the soft light of sunset. The person stands, leaning on a wooden cane. They face a mirror, which reflects both their body and soul. They speak with an intimate, melancholic tone, as if each word is a fragment.
Looking into the mirror with a thoughtful expression
Growing… a word that, for many, means moving forward, evolving. But for me, it’s a web of contradictions, a constant rediscovery of a being that defies definitions. I am intersex, a masterpiece of nature that doesn’t fit into conventional frames.
Leans more on the cane, almost caressing it like a loyal companion
Ten years. Ten long years of consultations, exams, and endless waiting. Ten years of being a puzzle that medicine couldn’t solve. And in the end, an answer. A diagnosis that came like a whisper in the night, changing the narrative of my existence. Like a painter adding an unexpected shadow to an already complex painting.
Closes their eyes for a moment, as if searching for the right words deep within themselves
Being intersex was already a challenge, a dance between shadows and light. Living in a body that confuses, that defies categories and provokes curious glances and silent judgements. And now, this illness. Every step I take with this cane is a testament to my strength, an act of resistance in a world that doesn’t always understand my fragility.
Opens their eyes and faces the mirror with a steely gaze
But in this struggle, in this duality, I’ve found a deeper truth. Growing is not just a matter of time; it’s a continuous transformation, a process of acceptance and self-affirmation. Each day, each pain, each moment of doubt is a brushstroke on the canvas of my life, a note in the symphony of my existence.
Gently caresses the cane with unexpected tenderness
I’ve learned to love this body, this imperfect canvas that many can’t understand. I’ve learned to accept a mind that sometimes feels trapped between two worlds. And above all, I’ve learned that being intersex and living with a disability doesn’t define me; it shapes me, beautifies me, makes me unique.
Looking toward the horizon, with an intensity that defies understanding and compassion
I am more than the labels others try to impose on me. I am more than a diagnosis, more than a condition. I am a person who has grown in adversity, who has found poetry in pain and beauty in the struggle. And as I continue this journey, I know I am not alone. There are others like me, others who are also growing, discovering their own voice in the silence, their own power in vulnerability.
And with a smile that reflects inner peace and hope, concludes
So yes, I am growing. Every day, every moment, every step I take with this cane. And that, that is my true work of art.
This piece is a translation of the Spanish text – Soliloquio: Fragmentos de un Cuerpo Infinito.