Here we go ... ready to start.
Behind the promise of money is what I'm ready to do. Leave everything and everyone.
Although some people think that I have nothing here, nothing can alleviate the sense of dread that I feel at this time.
Because maybe I had found something that was worth staying. Right now I have to leave. Maybe that's why I have to. Just because it's so warmly reassuring the way comes to mind and I dug into it.
But we'll see. Meanwhile, I'm afraid. And I will just ignore it. Unconsciously.
Money ... I've never needed as now. How disgusting ... may need for my materials are ready to give up the people I love?
But I do not live well now. I do not live. Also to scrounge. Still without a penny Scamuffa, always scraping the bottom to go on, always thinking what can I do to cover the debt I have with the school, also in talks to do away, in places inconvenient for unnecessary work, detestable, I would not do not even have to maintain a hypothetical child, which fortunately is not.
millemila Always deny me things I can not do because there's the rent, bills and spending. And I'm ashamed of this.
is not a series of complaints, although it seems. Are the findings. Are all those quotes, those commas, whole series of signs that give my life to the words of a bitter tone. So bitter that I decided to leave.
And from now will be the opposite: love words softened by details that make it all bearable.
sadness that my Mom, but I'm doing?! I should be happy to go away, all these people, because I can hardly bear it, that do nothing but criticize what (not) do, what they are (not), what they expect me to be. We are a source of mutual disappointment, so there's no reason to stay. Here are a burden because I do not have a job.
I should be happy to give up life or rather, the existence of hardship that I am doing.
Christ's sake, when did I become so? Nor do I know who to thank. Maybe all the people I met, or maybe just myself. Most likely both.
For once the work is promising indeed. For once I have a golden opportunity in his hands.
No, not true ... I'm lying like never before. I'm not ready. Minimally.
The truth is that I'm afraid. A fucking scared, so big and deep and cold that I would be willing to drop everything and run away and hide in the bathroom to cry at any moment. I'm afraid
not up to the assignment that was given to me. I fear that the work is a hoax, that money does not come, I fear that this work makes me quit the university to give up my friends, not to find them, of losing the affinity I have with them ... I'm afraid of become one of those people who now walk down the street and look to us as idiots full of themselves thinking only about money. And I fear that the evenings are all gray, all the same. I'm afraid I do not find anyone up to trust, to talk with which to cry.
But above all I fear getting lost in some mechanism that I will consume sick until I shut down, becoming gray to to make me lose the strength that I feel inside even if it is dormant under a layer of cold ashes.
I am so afraid that tremble without hope.
do not know what I do to shake this. I just know that I can not speak, because if I did lose the urge to leave immediately. And my damn pockets will not let me.
I would not leave. Even if this promises to be the occasion of my life.
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