Happy Halloween!

And a happy end of October!

It’s been a long month, with challenges along the way. I can only find relief in the thought that I am closer to my objectives. Everything seems closer, and I know that as much as it may be difficult, I need to keep going.

But. Nice things have happened this month and it is only right that I focus on those, even if only for a few moments. I am now much more certain that I will be travelling in February, which has me very excited. I made some cookies this month (they were great) and today I made a chocolate cake (currently in the over). I had a nice one-on-one conversation with an acquaintance, who I hadn’t talked to in a long time.

And I rediscovered the joy of reading. Devoured The Martian and recently finished Akarnae. Currently reading The Magicians’ Guild. Being lost in another world for a few hours, without feeling like it’s a chore. To forget of myself for a little while…

Ah… With that, October, I must bid you good bye. And for everyone else:


I won’t lie. During the last two days, I mostly read Akarnae. It’s a nice little YA book which proved to be entertaining enough despite some issues I had with it, and it is rather nice to have something to keep my mind busy. It’s nice – comforting even – to be able to do this once again. It’s hard to not be excited when it feels like I have found (again) something that might make life more bearable as I deal with the less pleasant sides of it.

Beyond that, yesterday I went out to hang out with somebody. Told myself that I was going to try, even if so I could say that I did. Truth be told, it was nice having a one-on-one conversation even if I felt like I was terrible at it. Not having to worry about forcing my way into conversation, lest everybody just talks over me, nor the frantic pace conversation usually takes when there are more people involved. It felt pleasant, unlike many other interactions I have had before.

I don’t believe much will change, however. It’ll merely complement my current life as it is, and maybe prove to myself that I can, even if in my own, clumsy way. But that will be okay. I know I won’t regret it, and that is what matters.


The fire consumes the page, slowly destroying its contents forever. A blasphemy. Yet… I put another one. I haven’t burned enough yet. There are still things that must be forgotten. Memories that nobody must know. Stories that must be lost in the sands of time.

Another page burns. Not as an attempt to erase the past, but as an attempt to forget. To forge something new, unfettered from any mistake.

You are supposed to grow from your mistakes, to learn from them and become a better version of yourself. And, slowly, the transformation will happen, perfecting the imperfect. That is why it is important to not lose sight of where we came from. Otherwise how would we stop ourselves from repeating the past?

Yet sometimes the past becomes crippling. Acceptance is supposed to be freeing, but instead it feels like giving up. The fear of others finding about it becomes paralyzing. The certainty that it’s not going to merely go away. If only I could make it disappear… or at least detach myself from it. Make it about somebody else. Somebody who I am not anymore.

Or, at least, I hope to distance myself enough to stand tall. To be able to interact without the fear of failing once again, even if deep inside it is all still there, locked up in a cage far away from everybody. To pretend, even if it is a lie, that I am normal, that there are no shackles and no scars.

That I might be worthy of love.

And for that, I burn with a cleansing fire.

A mistake…

I’ve been trying to keep myself busy these past few weeks. Thinking is something I tend to over-do, so every now and then it needs to be put in check. In fact, I’ve been talking with a friend hoping to start some projects and maybe get both of us out of the little financial hole we’ve been stuck in. Something about ever worsening living conditions in a third-world country with runaway inflation and something about working but never having enough. University also provided some sort of distraction – following the daily routine of waking up, eating, commuting and spending hours in classes I didn’t like should have been enough to sap any spare energy I might have left to think. At least about unimportant stuff. Maybe this time I would be able to put something together and make something worth being proud of.

Two days ago, at around 3 a.m., the realization that I had made a huge mistake struck me. You see, I read about people who have a plan (even if it falls apart or changes along the way), people who are working hard towards doing what they want to do and even if the road there is harsh, they move forward anyway.

I have a friend (and I’m lucky to call her friend) who does that too. She worked hard to get into the national guard’s academy. She failed the first time, and went on to university. She pushed through bullshit with colleagues and worked hard to finish her first year. Meanwhile, she continued to train to do better at her next chance to get it. And she got in. Only to have to give up at the end of a few weeks due to injury. I think that most would have taken some time off for the sake of gathering themselves. Reaching that far and then failing isn’t particularly easy. But she merely continued with her studies at the university, and further filled her time with other things she needed to do.

And another friend who still dreams and tries despite… well… life. Then there is my sister, my parents… all of them working hard to survive and maybe get somewhere better despite disliking what they have to do.

A part of me wishes I was a bit more like them. Capable of going through something even though I severely dislike it. Capable of smiling even when faced with adversity. After all, my trials aren’t particularly difficult when compared to those I know. Nowhere near as difficult. Yet… a part of me says – no, it screams to not bow down, to not suck it up. It rebels and insists that there must be some way out of this, that I shouldn’t have to go ahead with this. Intellectually, I know this is probably the best path that I have to achieve financial independence. Even if only because a degree opens the door for many jobs. Chasing dreams is supposed to follow after, once there is somewhere to stand on.

In the end, I don’t want to live up to anybody’s expectations. I don’t want to lead anybody. I don’t want to worry about doing my best to solve the problems of those around me. I don’t want to teach those around me. I don’t want anybody to look up to me. I don’t want to waste away hours doing something I dislike for the sake of a meal.

I want to be happy, and the more time I spend dealing with University or thinking about it, the less happy I feel. But giving up feels like failure, like disappointment. Not living up to my own standards, and if I look at others around me… And what else am I going to do, if not this? Time simply won’t stop for me. There is not time for soul-searching or anything like it. There never was. Because I need to study, for the sake of having a better future. A chance at something better.

Be happy that you are at least sitting in a classroom. Imagine you had to work at a store or a coffee shop.

Sometimes things crumble…

I don’t know what to say about this week.

It’s been… Let’s start by the beginning. Last Friday, I told a friend I was having issues controlling my feelings (conversation pending). Last Saturday was the last session of a PnP RPG campaign I had been playing. Then came Monday and I couldn’t do anything except return to the usual routine, except I now had the added challenge of trying to keep my mind away from thinking of her. Tuesday was another last session of another campaign.

And then came the lull of the rest of the week. For health reasons, I didn’t get to hang out with said friend this week. Mistakes happened, which didn’t help either. Then the long train rides during which my mind essentially idles, falling back into old behaviors to keep itself busy despite my best efforts to think about something else.

Right now, I half-regret not continuing my bass classes. At least they would have provided some sort of normalcy or something to do out of home, despite my severe lack of will to continue going through what was essentially paying to play in a band setting. And… something else? Some other class or a hobby? Sadly, right now I’m doing my best to save enough money to travel to Sweden for a week. Anything I do can’t involve spending more money than what I already spend. Going somewhere is not much of an option, short of merely walking around the city of Porto.

I don’t know what to think of this week. I only want to curl up and hide. And I fear what is to come. I fear falling back into a routine of numbness, where every day looks just like the other and noting matter much. I fear returning to that grey-scale hole in which everything seems to be the same. I’ll keep pushing my friend to see if he could, at least, stand up on his own. He needs to. As for me? I might take a leap and attempt to find something else to do with more people. Otherwise, I will try to stick with the few habits I have managed to learn and see where they take me.