2/27/2014
I cannot say I've become more realistic; I keep thinking about this moment ahead in which things for me will be better (even if they are not bad right now). Will I be happy then? I hope so because if not, all these efforts, this going to kids' houses and helping them do their homework for an hour a week, will not be worth it, and I guess if that happens all that will be left of me will be regret.
It's weird, because I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything; I'm just living although not quite enjoying. It's hard, though, to really be able to enjoy when I'm between the classes I'm taught and the ones I teach, and catching up on homework. It seems like I only have time for myself at nights, when I'm tired and almost struggling to fall asleep early because I know if I don't, I won't be able to properly function the next day.
It seems like my only escape right now are books, but even they have become sad, fatalistic, and that's not what I want to read about. I want to read in Spanish but all the books I have right now in my list are either in English or translations and I know I can't spend more money right now because just this month I got seven new books and, well, I need to save. I'm definitely confused, that's my only certainty.
YOU ARE READING
Going Nowhere: A Collection
RandomA collection of stories, anecdotes and essays from my late teenage years and early twenties.
