Or... Maybe I should just shoot me in the head, a common feeling after reading a post like the last one.
Oh my meaningless existance. I slept mostly o.k. I cooked breakfast. I randomly took a book and started reading. It was Simone de Beauvoir. It was "La invitada". Keep at it for a while. I usually keep at it until I found an exquisite pharagraph. But I didnt found it.
Then, work, the classic saturday stress... It is 21:33 and still waiting. I should go. But to what?
I was 15 and my aunt told me once, you have a question mark in your forehead. I´m 29 now, and I hope I´m not supposed to know now, because the question mark is bigger then ever.
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