I found this on my way home written in Spanish and came home and translated it:
There are names we don't speak of, names we don't mention to anyone, and yet they are with us and only us, like a part of the dance that make us feel alive. Deep down in the memory of our amnesia
I've felt like this for the last few years. I barely speak of the names that have dotted my heart these last few years. The truth is I'm exhausted. And beaten. I don't know if I have anything left to give.
People feel foreign to me. Women feel like complete alien creatures. I obviously have no clue how to make one happy let alone keep one. So why try?
Going into work every day I have to put on this mask. I have to become someone else just to make it through my day. Because the person I truly am would be frowned upon. I am too much a realist, and too old fashioned. I believe in things like truth and honesty. I believe that the things that come out of our mouths mean something. Our words are all we have. They shape what others think of you.
Anyway, happy teenagers without a care in the world and being surrounded by people on perpetual vacation puts one in a sour mood when you're already kind of batting 0-100. I feel old for the first time in my life. Old and unloved.
I'd give anything to go back a few years ago. Just for one day. Give me solace. Just a little respit so I can continue my journey. For today I am tired, sad, and alone.
