never drink and write

It’s a very dangerous thing to do. Here’s the thing: it’s Wednesday afternoon. You’re supposed to be in class, or working in your Design project, or at least in the gym not wasting the money your mother spends on it. But no, you’re getting drunk in Ruby’s. Shame on you.

It’s the greatest thing, you finally get to say everything you want without any restrictions (believe or not, there are millions of them the rest of the time), you don’t feel time passing by as your friend is driving you home; terrible music in the radio (the only music you can find on it) doesn’t bother you, and you can write stupid things without any guilt involved.

While we were in the heat of the drinking, I found this amazing friend I haven’t been in touch with for ages. I miss her terribly. I hate most of the people in my faculty, and since she left, my “decent people to talk to” standard has been worst than ever. I tried to downplay my enthusiasm while we were catching up, but I’m aware I’m not fooling anyone.

I’m so fucking tired. I feel like I am being dragged in a million different directions, and I can’t keep up with any of them. In the stupid European Academy my so-called-boss hasn’t even told me if he’s going to hire me or if I’m just wasting my time in training, the same training that doesn’t let me concentrate in my Design class, the one that doesn’t let me sleep. It’s an awful vicious circle.

My weekend nervous breakdown has let me with an emergency homeopathic remedy, a daily bottle of water with a flower-based medicine and the usual amount of regret. So expect a more “together-Marcela” for the next few days. I bet she’s more fun than this insecure, indecisive, and needy person I have sadly become.