Pffff. In these moments I almost nostalgic for the good old days of high school.
Okay, let's say a little 'me are sought: book all three exams this quarter for the month of January was a firm background to suicide, and I knew it very well. I only send out the thought that in February, if I can give them all without a hitch, I will be free and floating like a butterfly: 3
I opened my book exam with an honorable 26 - whereas I had studied in a rather rough , has been more than good. Now I expected statistics, namely: preferiscoandareazapparelaterratantononcicapisconulla D: (seriously, someone explain the usefulness of this issue into practical life? Not to mention that going to work as a clerk Istat does not fall completely in my future projects. _. ")
And then I'm stressed, and I like writing but I can not. Every time I write something new, something that always dries the inspiration for a lot 'of time, and then the next few days so I rest, staring at the blank sheet of paper with an attitude discouraged and inconclusive.
Last but not least, I'm going through one of my usual restless periods where all I would really would be a trip for a long trip abroad. Maybe go back to London, or go back to Spain. What is certain is that the more I advance, the more I realize that I, in Italy, we do not want to stay.
... And maybe this is the case now that I'm going back to school.
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