already returned to Mexico City and all begins a second time.
the end, of course, would not. I wanted to stay with my routine, which was almost nonexistent. I know there is no need clarification. The point is that to go to South America, I left my apartment. I returned some time with my parents, because it could save. And saved. As paid no rent, I could go to the U.S. and tour Chicago, Pittsburgh, New York, Boston ... It was a good trip. But then I came back.
During that time, I had imagined would happen, I fell into a depression. I went from adolescence and was not prepared. Continue to wrestle with her. I know how it works and know that the process will be long but I have every desire to heal. The first step was to it. My life back. Re-order, assemble new routines, take care, be productive. I just need to buy a pet and try not to kill, which is solved: my roommate have a dog and two cats, and my only job is to not kill them by accident.
I feel like when Dawson started all Spielberg posters in his room and only let the "Imagine" by Lennon. I have my little crisis of faith. I question everything I am, what I do and what I can do. My mom says it's natural. But gradually came to the conclusion that all I have is my desire to do something , my love for it, even bad about it. What year
so weird. Is divided only into two parts: while I was out of the country, living without understanding, and while I was here thinking about ad nauseam.
The photo above is of my new keys. Finger is a zombie. There is a metaphor for anything, but it's nice and it's mine. Out there, somewhere, I lost a piece of my life. I want to be there again, I want to achieve with your fingers and touch and know that there . I want nothing more than that.
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