Day 2 of sick leave
Nose is either runny or congested, and my throat is sore. My voice would be perfect for phone sex. Sleeping a lot. Not eating at all. Nothing but rubbish on Netflix and TV. I need some pity.
Tomorrow is Wednesday; last day of sick leave
I like to support independent musicians, but it is an uncomfortable feeling when those musicians keep whining about how much they hate creating or how much they hate their creations. It makes me feel as if by supporting them, I am making them miserable. Makes me want to stop supporting them to take the pressure off. But if I stopped giving monthly money, they would feel bad too.
Damned if you do, damned of you don’t.
Tonight, I went to dinner with my sister and my dad. Including kids and partners, we were eight people. It was the first time that I had Chinese food with my dad. So… We were at the restaurant when he announced that his cousin from Italy was in town and that he would join us for dinner. Fine by me, even though I don’t speak any Italian. But I am not phased. I have my sister who I adore and who I haven’t seen in months to talk to. (Technically she is my half sister)
We ate, we drank, we laughed, and we spoke with hands and feet, bits of English, lots of Italian and Portuguese. Just the usual for a casual dinner with the family. We talked and talked until my dad explained to the Italian cousin that my husband works for a Luxembourgish hosting firm. And this is when it got weird.
The cousin – let’s call him Tonio asked if Pat is working for this or that firm. The answer was yes. Does he know a man called F.M.? Again, yes.
How are the odds?
The Italian man had transferred his web domains via my husband’s firm. Even weirder, my husband and the Italian have been in daily contact since Monday, writing emails back and forth to make everything run smoothly. And now, on a Friday night, without being the wiser and without having met before tonight, they are having dinner together. At a Chinese restaurant, none of them has visited before.
I don’t believe this was a coincidence. Tonio and Patrick were meant to meet.
This earth is a small place indeed.
STARDUST LOVE .
AN ETERNITY THAT LASTED HOURS
FIREFIGHTERS CAME IN TOO SOON
WE FOLLOW THE MONSOON
THROUGH A MIND’S TYPHOON.
Saudade – the presence of absence, or who Wikipedia explains it:
Saudade is a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.
I saw the above on IG today… It describes me quite well.
I am an amazing woman. Intelligent, beautiful, sensual. But I am also full of doubts, anxiety, and depressive thoughts.
I am not strong – I am weak. A couple of months ago, someone said that I was weak and I was very insulted. He said that being emotional was weak. I disagree… I have weaknesses; being sensitive and emotional isn’t one of them.
I am moody. I am actually in a good place. I feel balanced, and yet, I started crying for no reason tonight. We should allow those moods, RA said. But it is hard when it feels that I am not normal.
Did you ever take a Myers-Briggs quiz? My results were INFP. (Introversion (I), Intuition (N), Feeling (F), Perception (P) )Quite fitting, I think.
I am forgiving. And I tell everyone to embrace their emotions and their flaws. But I don’t allow myself the same.
Such an egocentrical post…
Diamonds trying to outshine the dark, but
Only light can make them spark.
Novelty has worn off
Too many times we’ve gone soft.
Ingrained, but never imagined in our wildest dreams, how we are
Growing together, and secretly falling apart at our seams.
Nothing can contain our lust
Other than the chains that must
Reign us in, and keep us caged;
Endlessly devoted to a love that hasn’t aged.
Millions of thoughts keep us apart;
Emotions and memories – forever locked away in my heart.
Time makes us
And time breaks us.
It is our best friend
And our worst enemy.
It keeps us running
And it makes us stand still.
There is a time for everything
We don’t see it
Because we don’t have time for anything.
Time makes us
And time breaks us.
Light. Too bright.
Your fingers look like claws; Scratching at my soul until it is raw.
Shadows. The wind blows.
Your voice is calling me into the dark; fading spark.
Pitch black. Small crack. Everything will change for the better; because you are a part of me; forever.
My writing and inspiration seems to come from a place of inner pain.
I am not in pain. I am not sad. I am not in a battle with my mind. I am not writing.
I am tired. But I am also at peace.
(And I hope I am not jinxing it right now)