Now thinking about it, it must’ve been like dropping out of the school of life after the kindergarten period or early learning. I’m 32, in a place where I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t want to conform. Instead, I want to learn to focus on myself for a while. Over a year ago, I’d spent almost ten days living like a female monk that sincerely had nothing to say to anyone, neither do I have anything to say now, except for humming my favourite songs to myself, looking for meaning and good stories to feed my imagination. And I often wonder what if I was living the life of a female monk. I’m not missing out on anything, apart from good stories and good music. I don’t like what they like, but at least I am tolerant enough to take part in it, share my presence with it and smile at it for two seconds. It almost feels like a favour without one in return. And that doesn’t feel right. Perhaps I am trying too hard. I do stop when it gets too much. I dig a hole and bury my head, hoping that a perfect storyline will save my day or even a philosopher’s quote or last words. I never understood people that cannot be alone. Whenever I feel something similar to loneliness, all I need is a text message or an email to remind myself that I am not alone. But you don’t get in touch with friends just because you’re sad or alone. I’ve been guilty of it lately. I hadn’t spoken to them when I was happy; I haven’t been sharing happiness with them, but I only thought of them when I was sad. I’ve been finding it hard to breathe, and when I close my eyes, I see the colour red and a dark red line. It looks like the horizon for a while, and sometimes it looks like a huge wave coming at me, so I open my eyes, and I lose my focus. Broken sleep, headache, earache and hair loss (again), and if anything – my seborrhoeic eczema is getting worse—so much scab on my scalp. I can’t stop picking at them. And then there’s blood underneath my fingernails. I don’t want to use hydrocortisone if I can help it. I’m usually good at keeping my skin’s conditions under control, but not at the moment. Other people have it worse, though. Weight gain is common, too, when you’re stressed and having an office job doesn’t help. Despite everything, I’d say this job is a good office job – a small company, small team. It’s just that we’re all new, and the learning process takes months. But I have no eye for detail to keep errors out. The lack of concentration and knowledge is a big issue here. I’ve not been sleeping, but I’ve been dozing for the last two days. Surprised that I function at work, which has become my second favourite place after the gym. I do overtime for free. But apparently, my boss is paying me for some. I have an aversion against the music played there – repetitive bullshit with poor lyrics and appalling radio presenters supporting musicians that can’t sing or write songs.

If there is anything I have in common with the people around me, it is that deep down inside, I am nocturnal, too, but I’d use the night to be creative and not drunk. But the work routine turns the nocturne into an early bird. Even before I started working, I had an early start in the day – I went to the morning classes at the gym and felt terrific. I like starting the day with a good, motivating energy, whereas going to the gym after work feels more like a de-stress session more than anything. Nonetheless, it keeps me sane and makes me feel that I’ve contributed to something positive for my mind and body, and I will continue to do so every day, no matter what anybody says. Apparently, I’m still dark and negative, which I will not understand. I’m just trying to save me before I save anybody else. And saving yourself is not easy.

I am not lazy and never have been. I admire those who are, though. They are never in a hurry. And they’re having more of a good time than me. A good time for me would be to go hiking, for example, but it seems so difficult. But I should invest the money on transport and do it. Others complain of being broke but would spend all the money they have on goddamn booze. I shall spend all the money I have on a goddamn ride to the mountains, I suppose.

I must be the only one looking forward to winter. Why? Simply because it keeps all these damn fuckers inside, that’s all. I would love to see the autumn out east, though, to remind me that when a period comes to an end, it isn’t an end but a chance to make things better for the future. Let go of the past and think of new ideas to bloom for the next year. But in terms of seasons, people don’t think like that. And that’s how I’m different, and this is how I am lonely. But that’s ok.

Hopefully, I’ll have a new tattoo by the end of the year and the release of my novel. These are good reasons to live.

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