It’s ticking. I have all my life ahead of me, just not as much as I would like. I need to make the most of it. Without feeling old, I can’t say that I feel young.
Now That I’m starting to make a routine of writing, my next step is painting. I felt better about myself when I created more art. I used to paint life, animals, colorful and fun. I need more of that in my life.
My summer project will be to look for an apartment around here. I need to stay put and stop trying to escape. I’ll reserve a big move for when it is not a flight, and I can afford a nice place to live.
A neighbor’s grandson received a heart transplant when he was a baby; now he’s twenty and needs a kidney. How could I get upset about losing a tooth after that?
My last stories have been written in the afternoon. Why am I still fighting with myself? Stop resisting Matteo and write when you can. The words a psychologist once told me are worth reminding: If you can only work one hour a day, do it. You’ll still move forward.
I don’t believe in fate, that our lives are orchestrated by the planets or written down in some celestial archives, but some coincidences are rather difficult to explain away. Life can get weird. Connections, meeting of minds and all that.