Nacido
Born
I was born in a small town in the mountains of Michoacán, the youngest of three, with two older sisters.
My dad built houses, including ours. We called it la casa rosita because it was pink, and he raised it one floor at a time. On Sundays we drove ten minutes out of town to a piece of land we called la Chichihua, where he had planted fruit trees and built a pool out of river stones. My cousins and I played there until dark.
Nothing about it was glamorous. It was simple, and it was beautiful. I didn't know yet how much I would miss it.
¿Qué más vas a pedir de la vida?
Empezar de nuevo
Starting over
On July 14, 2022, I boarded a flight from Guadalajara to New York. I was eleven. Between that summer and the next, I started over four times.
Five weeks in New Jersey. Then California, where I was placed a grade behind and wrote my essays by running them back and forth through Google Translate. One of the first English words I learned on purpose was nervous, so I could explain myself on a school trip. Then back to Mexico for a summer. Then New Jersey again, a new school, and a class schedule that changed three times in my first weeks.
Each move meant a new school, new people, and starting from zero again.
La caída
The fall
On a Saturday night at the end of December, I got sick and didn't get better.
By morning I was in an ambulance on the way to a children's hospital. In intensive care, the doctors told my parents what it was: type 1 diabetes. I was fourteen. Insulin, every day, for the rest of my life.
Renacer
Reborn
A week later, on January 4, 2025, I sat in this chair and waited to go home.
On the bed were the diabetes guides the hospital gave my parents. I didn't have much to say that day. I had walked in as one person and I was leaving as another, with a new set of rules for my own body.
I think of it as the day I was born again. I didn't choose the diagnosis. I chose what to do with the day I walked out.
Salí. Y decidí prosperar.
One year apart
Alguien nuevo
Someone new
The year after the hospital, I learned how to live in a body with new rules.
I went back to school and kept most of it to myself. In July I graduated. That summer I returned to Coalcomán for the first time in two years, and the town was the same while I wasn't. I noticed things I used to run past.
Somewhere in that year, getting through the day stopped being the goal. I wanted to build something.
Aureveris
Aurum + ver. Gold and spring.
I named it Aureveris in November 2025 and gave myself a launch date: April 1.
Gold for prosperity, in every sense. Spring for the season when everything comes back. The phoenix in the logo is the same idea.
I missed April 1. Then I missed the dates after it. I was so focused on making every detail perfect, the logo, the files, the film, that I forgot to build the thing itself. By spring I was exhausted and running on nothing.
So I stopped, and I started writing. Putting my own story on paper showed me what Aureveris was supposed to be all along: proof that a hard season can become a new beginning.
Sigo construyendo. Esta vez, bien.
I'm still building. Follow along at @aureverisofficial.
Volver
To return
In August 2026 I flew home at sunrise, wearing the shirt.
The hills were green from the rains. The river was running. Fog filled the valley in the morning. I photographed all of it this time, because now I know what it is to be far from it.
I left Coalcomán as a kid who didn't know what was coming. I came back as someone who has already started over more than once, and can do it again.
De Coalcomán
para el mundo.
The story ends where it began, for now. The next chapter isn't written yet.