๐๐๐ฒ, ๐๐ข๐ฏ๐
I stumble into a drawer of old books, this sudden move has me jaded, I need money, I need space and time.
"Fuck Noah, you can do more than just rub your stomach" I shouted warily, it was his vacation, but he was just getting in my way.
I looked for a moment at a small notebook that brought back memories. I took it and sat down on the rooftop couch to rest, it was old writings, I hadn't seen him for about five years, I carefully went through the pages and laughed bitterly as I read the last writing.
Waiting for something exciting to happen to me is my main motivation for waking up every morning. Even in my dreams I can't quench my need to experience a segregation of the happiness quartile* by an external event in my life.
I was surrounded by cool things, I saw cool things, I read cool things. What was the turning point in my story? Where had I been disinherited from excitement? These were questions that haunted me and caused little trances at inopportune times. I always knew what I was going to do, how I was going to do it, who I was going to be with; nothing was unexpected, nothing was surprising, nothing was new.
After twenty-five years of the same thing, the word boredom was branded on my ass. My childhood consisted of normal experiences, the coolest thing I ever experienced was having my four front teeth knocked out with a sharp blow of my mouth against the forehead of a little boy, it should be noted that the days that followed were not so cool. During my adolescence I did not manage to obtain lasting memories, of a forbidden love for example. In those five years that become the best experience of many, I only dedicated myself to getting the best grades. I had a couple of unrequited loves, but they didn't keep me awake at night. The most outstanding thing that happened was graduating and never having to go back.
At that time, at the end of the vacation before the start of college, I had promised myself a change, I kept repeating that my time had come and that it was just a matter of trying harder. Eight years have passed since then, and I'm still here, with a degree in economics but no friends, no memorable boyfriends, no epic moments, no excitement, no adrenaline, no nothing. What was it that I needed to live something different that would mark my life?
November is upon us, heralding the last months of the year, of another lost year. My brother and I are crammed in the living room eating treats while watching the airing of a new zombie series called The Walking Dead on AMC, it's a cherished way to celebrate my birthday.
The couch is littered with food waste, my brother is a complete mess. It's just me and him since our dad moved in with another family; mom died when I was three so I have no memory of her, our dad left when I turned 16, we weren't surprised, it had taken longer than we calculated. My brother is two years older than me, yet I am the adult in this house. Since I was 8 years old I have taken on the role of mother, it was not hard for me to adapt to the responsibility; I started working at 15, after that my father soon left us. It was the most accurate decision he could have made, he was an absolute burden. He didn't contribute to the household, he was a mouth to feed and didn't fulfill his role as a father. I accepted the fact that he didn't help me, but Noah always needed a little more attention, with his anger issues it was hard for me to control him as a child and even in those instances, when adult intervention was needed, our father wasn't there - could that term really be attributed to that man? I have always doubted it.
I'm not overflowing with happiness about everything that happened, I'm not sad about it either, I'm just calm, appeased, and being here with my brother without worrying about anything, I'm at peace. And you know what, I'm tired of peace! The kitchen is dirty, I clean it. The room is messy, I tidy it up. No money, I work. No food, I go shopping. My brother shat himself, I wipe his ass. I am always trying to solve problems having faith that as I take care of my responsibilities something interesting will happen.
I failed, I failed for 26 years with that formula and I can't make up for lost time.
I am a week away from starting my first vacation as an econometrician. I had chosen a career that would provide us with money, since my brother decided to be a writer, and as long as he didn't write a bestseller, it was necessary to eat. The boy had talent, he just needed an incentive, something to unleash that brilliant imagination, but I didn't push him, I would keep waiting for his moment, no one knows the moment when a writer succeeds.
When the chapter of the series ended, I woke my brother up with a pillow in the face, the idiot had been snoring for half an hour. I prepared dinner with his help and after eating, everyone went to their rooms to rest.
I write to unburden myself, I will keep this diary, maybe it will be useful in the future, now I will go to sleep thinking if the next day I will live something different.
What had changed since that time? After that day I committed many stupid things, but if I evaluate my current situation, I still aspire the same, I have not achieved my goal.
I watch the sunset carefully, those beautiful colors I like; something I have learned, now I appreciate things more, but I will go out tonight and live, I hope that in five years I will not be so disappointed with my life.
*The quartet of happiness: dopamine, exitocin, endorphin and seratonin
Translated with DeepL Free version.
