I'm at a point in which I'm sick of everything, everything seems wrong, and I've no inspiration at all.
I've not been very well this week. My left ear hurt, so did the whole left side of my head. This gave me a perfect excuse to do nothing. A part for watch films and TV shows and read books, of course. This is the only thing I can do. Immerse myself in somebody else work.
There is always someone saying, maybe of a fictional character or of the person subject of the discussion, that she doesn't have rights to be sad. What did she has experience in her life so terrible to be depressed? But this is the point, isn't it?, I'd like to say every time. There's no need for a reason. If there was a reason, there wouldn't be that hard.
I'm laying on the bed that the 99% of the time stays under mine and that now fill my room and impedes me to open the window. There is the sun out there, and the blue, and cars and motorcycles full of people directed to the beach. But if I stayed forever on this bed I wouldn't know. I wouldn't know if rains or if it feels like spring time. I wouldn't listen all those people telling that it's unnatural, that if it's so beauty now and warm it will pay back us soon or later. As if the sky was this sadist bully who enjoys mocking us. Why does it hate us so much?, I thought as a child.
The bed is out because my friend A slept here, after a dinner with B and F and a night in a club. The club was too full, really dangerous, and being shorter than the average I got many punches and nudges on my head, and we were pretty mad at the end. But we had good time at first and we danced. I didn't even remember the last time I danced.