Dear diary, how come I cannot open up to you like I used to do? How come every time I try to write something I go blank in front of the word sheet? How come? Good question I tell myself every day. So far I have a lot of questions and well zero answers. It’s a cliché I know …
Now the holidays are over, the time of mopping around is also over.
I made myself another gift … a trip to Rome, my very first trip of this kind … but as always I cannot feel joy at full capacity. The fact is that if I do not have with whom to share this … it doesn’t mean anything to me. Yep, this is the truth … but still, I cannot fuckin’ wait to pack my bags and just go.
I’m gazing at this page, half opened on my desktop and … another thought pops into my mind … seaside … yes, just for this I’m glad the holidays are over. Oh sweet memories …maybe this time … just this once … “sigh”
I hope, though I’m a realistic to pessimistic person that, this year is “the happy one”…that when my b-day comes i can say for sure that “this is it”. Yes I’m daydreaming right now, but hey! dreams are mine and only mine so i can dream anything i want.
