miércoles, 30 de noviembre de 2016



I'm not a perseverant person, I've never been.

I guess the day they were giving out discipline, I was in the "let's worry about everything, but no doing shit about it besides curl up in a ball of anxiety and desperation" line. Or maybe I was in the bathroom. Who knows.

The thing is that when I first started my blog I wanted, as the obsessive being that I am, spend every waking moment of my life working on it. And I did. I just HAD to do it. Even if I dind't sleep. Even if people around me were getting mad and insisted that I just needed to relax. I just had to. I couldn't not do it. I couldn't fail. It was really that important.

I was going to post everyday, and I was going to be insightful and funny... Everyone would love me! I mean, that's how it works, right? If you put so much effort and all of your hope and heart into something, the Universe has to reward you, right? RIGHT?

So my imagination started to go overboard... In a week or so the publishers would come knocking at my door wanting to make all my dreams come true, and I would have fans trying to get into my house to steal my panties or whatever, and I would win the Pulitzer for blogging, and...

Well... That obviously didn't happen. Of course, I didn't expect it to happen like it did in my mind, but maybe... I expected something more than what I have accomplished?

But no. Almost nothing happened in one week... Or two... Or in several months... Or in almost a year... And I don't think I have the patience to wait for a year and a half or something like that to be rich and famous, you know?

So yes, deception (and reality) bitch-slap the hell out of me. And it was not the first time. I have the tendency of getting frustrated very easily, and this time was no different.

There were a lot of thoughts of: Why should I care? Nobody is reading my blog, so fuck it, I'm gonna watch tv. But then I tried again, because it was something I really liked.

Lately, I don't think I'm really trying that hard, honestly. At the beginning of the month I plan out what I want to do, what I want to write about, but then... One day I don't feel like doing it, the next I'm not really that inspired, or it's to much work, or...

When I realize it it's been a week, then two weeks and then a month, and I have only posted a couple half-assed "currently reading".

So I feel bad and everything starts all over again. The frustation. The fuck it. The who the hell cares? I don't! But the truth is I really do care... Crazy stuff, people.

So, maybe this word vomit helps and I start blogging again (without being too obssessive about it, if possible. Ha). Or maybe it doesn't help.

Maybe I do really suck at blogging. Or maybe I don't. I guess we'll see.

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