La vida es una trepidante aventura. Y yo, una sonrisa exploradora.
I si aquest somriure es cau... és només per tornar-se a alçar, havent vist el terra de prop.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Trying to party

I feel like I never became 20 and I actually got stuck into that teen-age.
Today, after an amazing walk and morning conversation, I thought that my problem was solved. I thought I had discovered what it was, and therefore how to solve it.

My problem, my morning thoughts told me, is that I don't have enough fun. Fun for fun's sake, not as a derivative of any activist or making-the-world-a-better-place oriented action. They are fun and rewarding, I will never deny so, but they are not enough. Not enough if one wants to avoid burnout and a general dissatisfaction with the fact that things aren't going that much better in general terms.

So I thought: that's it, I just need to party more! I need to cut down on commitments and to-do's so that I don't feel the need to avoid partying, so to sleep more, so to have more time and energy for everything.
I felt like maybe I was missing that sort of university life everybody seems to have.

I'm even afraid of being drunk. Afraid of losing myself, of feeling ill, of not being able to make the most of my thoughts and emotions.
And the problem is that... that's fine! And yet I still try to dress up, and paint my face, and all of that, so that I somehow fit in the idea of normality circulating around. Maybe so that I forget the need of constant challenge of the status quo. That tiring yet necessary action.

I came back home, I looked into the mirror. And even though I saw a beautiful face enhanced by the skills of dark eye lines, I can't help but feel like a puppet whose show was way too poor, not even the most simple disguise can make me fit.

I know it's all exaggerated by the power of tears and hormones,
and by not having anybody to hug

I know it all doesn't make sense once I truly rationally think about it

I know it's bullshit coming out of a possible lack of self-confidence

but whatever it is,
it still hurts, it still makes me feel vulnerable.
And if I am writing such a personal statement in such a public space, it might be cause I'm ...
i'm just Neus, doesn't that explain it enough?