Hi there. A little update.

I’ve been thinking a lot and watching a lot of movies and I realized that maybe these dark times are not without beams of light.

When you’re stuck in a hole and find yourself all alone, you are forced to reflect. You have no choice but to spend time with yourself and get to know you.

I’ve learned things about myself, brought things into the light that were obscure before.

It is no wonder that I chose a degree that I now want to escape from, when the basis for my choice was escapism.

That’s right. I went for an English degree because it came to me easily at school. Why did it come to me easily at school? Because I read. A lot.

Why did I read a lot?

Because I was often lonely. Starved of touch.

Books spoke, even when no one was there. They were a reservoir of company. Libraries and bookstores had people, dead and living, ready to talk to me in whatever way I desired when I picked them up.

Books don’t reject you. They lie there, waiting, and flood you with joyous fountains of words when you are ready to receive them. They are willing to repeat themselves for your sake even, over and over. They talk to you if you are capable of understanding them. Regardless.

But fiction is not reality.

Stories are biased human attempts to make sense out of the randomness of the world.

Humans are flawed, each and every one. Heroes are flawed. Victims are flawed. There is no certainty.

There is no certainty unless you start to subjectively believe in something, whatever it is.

Humans are not logical creatures.

Humans operate by social cohesion and beliefs, which are related.

Death is the only certainty.

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But I’m not ready to die yet.

I enjoy life sometimes, especially that feeling of drowsiness and a full stomach after a particularly satifying meal. And music.

There is no certainty of what I will do next.

I hope that, one day, I will become a person who eats good food often and earns decent wage and holds a good, patient, kind, tolerant attitude in her work and relationships.

But now…