A few months ago I wrote this post and felt like reading it once more.
Today is a difficult day. A day of crying. A day of looking back. A wonderful sunny day filled with anger and tears. It might be the stars above. It might be my period. Whatever it is, I feel like shit.
I guess this too, will pass.
Can I dedicate this day to moaning?
Am I allowed to cry because I don't see light?
Six months without a job.
One tiny job - the art history job - with it's only prospect being fininshed in a month because of lack of interest.
Where the fuck is my laughter today? Where the fuck is my strength? Where the fuck are my dreams and imagination?
It's all because of expectations. I had many expectations and they are all crumbling down. Today. I was expecting to get a job, to be payed for my fucking knowledge. But I am a coward. It's too scary to be paid for what you know. There is a little devil inside who says I can't make money for something I like doing. I was expecting to be independent, do as I please. Get a bloody driver's licence.
There are so many people out there these days who feel the same. Am I picking up on the feelings of mass consciousness? Am I picking the saddness and despair?
Expectations are the worst thing that can happen to you. You attach on your expectations and when they don't get fullfilled, you dispair.
Who bloody cares?
Here I am. Moaning publicly. I could stay silent, don't expose my hurt feelings. Think this too shall pass. But this is me. Don't read if you don't want to. I cannot be constantly happy. Tears are on cue for everyone. At some point.
I'll go walk my dog. Sit on a bench and think.
Hope your day is better than mine today.
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