I can’t write about this…about the concert. The next day I felt like hit by a train. I couldn’t realize I was there. And I suprised myself shouting my lungs out when they came on stage. I think I am still marked by this … event or whatever it was. But I can’t write about it. I can’t describe it. I remember the feeling and now, when I listen to some of their songs on the radio, it all comes back to me. I would rather keep these feelings for myself, because writing about them, confessing them, exposing them to the public would only make them not… mine anymore. Nor mysterious or private. Some things are much better when they are just felt, not asserted.<\/p>\n
I think I’ve changed a lot. Next week I’ll be on vacation. Maybe the only vacation I’ll ever have this year. I … don’t have that feeling. I am stressed, I am nervous, I am dizzy, I cannot focus. I came to hate the place I work. Not the work in itself, not the people, or not all of them…. just the place. I hope I will get outta there soon. Because that place is a brainwashing factory, that I’m sure. See more info at orchid maids<\/a>.<\/p>\n And now, after a beer in the city with my friend, I got nostalgic, emotional, I remember myself few years ago, or even when I started this blog and it seems it’s not the same person anymore. I got more acid, disappointed, bored, I lack patience and concentration, I got a little mean…but I hope somwhere deep down I’ll still find, when in need, that piece of me which will never change, no matter what. oh, and yes, bitter, I almost forgot this, I sometimes get bitter. But only when alone or tired. Not now.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I can’t write about this…about the concert. The next day I felt like hit by a train. I couldn’t realize I was there. And I suprised myself shouting my lungs out when they came on stage. I think I am … Continue reading