My tight shoes

My shoes are tight and press on my toes, my earrings pull my ears down, the smokes of cigarettes around me, but I don't smoke.


There's a silence here, time passes with the sound of a fan in the ceiling. why I write in English. I like the imperfections in things, people and myself but I seek for the perfect love and home, to take off my clothes easily and throw it away. This home is big and the sun comes from everywhere, very white with very high ceilings with no fans and silence there.


This voice in my head tells me to run run run. But I'm not sure if I can run with these tight shoes.

Today is an exciting day

I woke up feeling excited about the day, there's nothing new other than going to work half an hour earlier, drink my coffee and get ready for the load of work I have. My work as a designer in digital advertising is all about creating designs that meet the client's needs. Although of that I like it. I like being a designer. I chose it. and I enjoy the creative part of it. Now, this work became mechanical and easy. and I don't like things get easy.

Easy things are not exciting and remember that I feel excited about the day.

So, I watched myself in the mirror and see how the jeans that I wear became tighter because through the last month I gained more than 5 kg and I feel terrible and want to disappear. and here comes the not easy part. how I will accept and embrace all these flaws.





I'm bored

From everyday streets, the uber rides, the taxi drivers, the traffic at 8 am in the morning, the restaurants that introduce lame food, the air that I can't breathe.

from shopping malls, and fake stories on Instagram, fake smiles in the pictures, relationships that don't last for long, friends who flee away, from the tweets that aren't retweeted, and Facebook comments where others stalk me, the job that I like and my body weight I watch every day on the scale.

The same song is repeated in weddings and parties, the new trends that people make laughs at. The love that isn't here.

I'm not sure of publishing this and showing how much I'm sad, bored, and vulnerable. Now I feel that I need to write this, write a lot and say a lot, I need my voice to get loud and express itself. I need this to tell you how bored I am.