Oh, my god. What was I thinking? That I can make it? That my book will finally start selling? Really?!! That I could support myself with teaching/translations/writing articles before this magic moment of success happens?
I thought I did think it all through, I was already freaking out before I came here. But there was always this stupid hope. The motherfucking chance. And what now??
What do I do? I had a lot of job offers lately, but they didn’t turn into any gigs. It’s not like I don’t have any money, that I will be homeless or something.
So breathe. Man, just breathe.
Fuck, I’m having a panic attack. And I’m meeting with my Tinder lover in a couple of hours. He came into Palma from Italy. Oh my god. What the hell is wrong with me. With my life. The more I try, the more I do, the more I work hard it just doesn’t work out in the end.
What am I? A spoiled brat? Come on, I’ve been through hell and I survived it. I can make it now. Right? Sure.
I just have to go take the shower, make myself pretty for the boy and drink something to calm my nerves. It’s going to be all right.
I’ve spent an amazing day at the beach in Mallorca yesterday. Nobody will take that away from me. I can be homeless, poor, get drunk or high under the bridge, but no one will ever take the memories of those beautiful places that I’ve seen.
Yup, that’s how I comfort myself.
Just breathe, damn it!