2025-03-30 — 1 high + 1 low = 1 average
Today I had the chance to hang out with a friend of mine who is
also in the city. At first, I feared she agreed just to be kind,
but while I was getting home she texted me and thanked me for the
nice walk in the centre, as she had been struggling to find
a friendly moment since she moved. The sun was shining; people and
tourists were comically weird as usual; it was finally warm after
weeks of rain.
It’s not the weekends, then: it’s just weekends spent alone
in my room with no view. As long as I remember this, I should not
struggle that much again: I can still go out for a walk, even if
I have to take the bus to get to something vaguely resembling a
park. I will do it nonetheless.
2025-03-29 — Rambling is free
Let me be frank for a minute: I don’t like that I’m in need
of being back here again. I would have rather preferred to be
in good mental shape. Yet here we go again. If you’re reading
this and want some extra context,
here you can find the
previous iteration of this alt site of mine. It isn’t the only
site I have, but it’s the only one I know for a fact
nobody IRL can associate me with. And I don’t want to waste a
perfectly functional account on an obscure Web platform
just to ramble about random things until I feel better and
back everything up on a random cloud provider and forget it
for a year or two, do I?
In the last 18 months, many things happened. If I were
at home, I would pull out my bullet journals, skim through
them and enumerate the most important events of 2024.
Unfortunately, I’m in a new city right now, far enough from
home that I plan to go back just for Easter, and for a couple
days at most. I’m here because I found a job and wanted to try
to live away from the safety home provides. The trial period
ends in August, and then the company and I will decide on my
future. As you can guess, coming back after 472 days of radio
silence (based on my
Status
Cafe page) means that my psyche isn’t exactly in perfect
shape.
But I’m already digressing too much. This wannabe journal
is public for a reason: I want it to be a little bit more
sincere than what it would be if I wrote it on paper. I have a
shitty bullet journal with too many things to do and too few
recent good memories, but I always have a weird, uncomfortable
feeling when I think of actually writing down all I feel on
something anyone close to me would be able to read.
And yes, I’m also used to writing about myself online
too much: the word “I” is too frequent on these entries,
for my taste. But it’s a journal, a diary if you will, so
maybe it’s just normal, and I’m setting too high of an
expectation for myself, as usual.
Let’s go in order, more or less. In December 2023, I
graduated. In the meantime, I had chosen another school for my
master’s degree. Oh, and also I was trying to recover from
a deep crush that ended
quite wack and made me feel useless and aimless.
2024 was an okay year compared to its
predecessor: I met some new cool people at uni, I had the
chance to go to the seaside after a couple years devoid of any
travelling, I was more on time with my exams. And yet the feeling
of not being enough, not having any success with girls (damn, they
should be called women at this age!), having no clear purpose
never went away.
And now I’m here, in a distant (not really) city, with no
real thing to do outside working and studying for my remaining
exams. Weekends feel bad. I took up pornography after months of
not even feeling the need for something similar. I spent hours
watching YouTube last Saturday, because I feel like I have no
reason to go out and meet new people—it feels hopeless. And
when I feel a little bit better, some random thing reminds me
of some terrible thought, be it being single, a loser, unfit for
everything I care about or all of the above.
Right now I’d rather go home and avoid the truth, i.e. I’m
not ready for this. And this is why I must stay here
as much as possible: when this internship ends and I get to
avoid inhumane Excel spreadsheets once and for all, I don’t
want to forget how miserable life without my family and
friends is. I don’t want to forget my privilege of living
in a quiet, clean neighbourhood where nothing ever happens.
I don’t want to take the calm of not getting embarassed for
any woman passing by for granted.
This journal will help me remember all of this. Hopefully.