Actualizado: 16 mar 2020
Well and on about love, I figured, I could admit I have lost the love of my life, convince myself that at the age of 30, I would live a loveless adulthood of a skin that wants to embrace the passage of time through the manifestation of wrinkles, silently depress myself with melancholy whenever I remember him and once in a while, think about paying a psychologist 70€ to help me get over it.
Or maybe, I could just change perspectives, not take it upon myself as I always do, and just for a while, explore the idea that he's the one making the mistake of his life and assume that he's never going to realize such.
Or explore the idea that maybe I'm wrong, and maybe I'll wake up in a couple of years and realize I have been wasting my time.
There was something I should be thankful for and that is, the one thing that has ignited my emotional learning the most, have been heartbreaks. Nothing like love rejection has made me look more deeply into my own self and reflect upon my life to understand the nature of happiness and how I could provide it to myself.
Nothing like feeling like shit to wanna make the best out of oneself.
Nothing like feeling there's nothing to look forward to in the world to seek what one's missing.
Today I am here; sitting by my laptop in this cheap plastic chair in the patio with a lemon tree under a cloudy sky. And where I can go and how can I feel, that's just up to me to have the only say.