I'm so over being me.

It's crazy how a single book can change your mindset. Since I read Siddhartha, the holy bible of the hippie generation, during my holidays in Brazil, I have, unbelievably, sort of developed an ability to stop thinking ahead of time. No, really. I sort of entered this state where I just don't try anymore to measure how much time I'm wasting by not doing what I actually should be doing. It seems that I've been living like this for so long (or should I say *not living*, because moaning about the past and freaking out about the future shouldn't be considered as such), that I must have had something like a mental breakdown. Like, "Huh?! Am I developing body rashes because of what doesn't even exist yet? HELLO?"

It was probably just another manifestation of my erratic and bored personality, which makes me throw the towel as soon as I see no point for keep on doing things. If there's a thing I'm good at, no, GREAT at, it's quitting, so I simply quit thinking about everything that is not the moment. Simple as that. And I didn't even need a lifetime of meditation to get to this state. I bet Siddhartha would be jealous. And my dad, the biggest fan of that self-help bestseller, THE POWER OF NOW, will definately be proud.

Of course I didn't reach the nirvana or enlightenment or even started sleeping any better (I can't remember the last time I slept a whole night uninterrupted, but with a hugely deviated septum and a spine that resembles the Thames river, who would?), but I've been enviously calm and lighthearted, taking everything in as it is. No overanalyzing bollocks, no scrutinizing shit, apart from these blog posts, which will be become more regular from now on - I'm not perfect, alright?


Oh, I also quit my job. Whilst I was at my "quit thinking" momento, I also thought I should stop wasting my precious hours at dead-end jobs because of irrelevant stuff such as "career", or "CVs", or "status", or worse of all, "money", so I arrived from my one-month vacation in Brazil (taken during probation period) and handed in my notice. No offense, I quite liked the people there, but, I mean, only wankers hand over their lives in exchange of the aforementioned stuff, right? Or maybe the only wanker in the story is me, one of those people who only complain and never do anything about it. I couldn't stand my own self.

People, oooobviously, started babbling away like robots the questions "what you're gonna do now?", "what's your plan?", and "how you're gonna pay the bills?". Hell, who cares. I've always been able sort myself out, even if it requires "underground measures" - so nothing to worry about. For the first time ever, I've no studies or job to agonize about. I can do whatever the hell I want.

Never been happier.


Then, on my first day of freedom, I saw Juno. Gawd. She is like the dream teenager. If I had been as witty, self-assured and coolheaded as her when I went through the same thing, my life would have been SO much easier. The scriptwriter (Diablo Cody, all the rage now. Bitch. Stole my thunder.), obviously never went through an unwanted teenage pregnancy.

Yeah, yeah, there it is. I went through it. Twice. And the biggest irony of all is that they were
 only "unwanted" because of the previously mentioned irrelevant stuff (should I call it "the big CSM"?). I mean, DUH! If I could only have had a glimpse of my future at 25 when I was the teenage version of the little miserable shit I am used to be, I probably would have saved a lot of wretchedness and anxiety over nothing. Or maybe not. I’ve always been a little retarded on the emotional camp – thanks to my lovely parents, who deeply instilled in moi an overwhelming fear of rejection – so I’m totally sure I would have become a melodramatic wreck anyway, had I had, as Juno calls it, "the thing".

Oh, and for those who are wondering, yes, I’m not proud of it. And, hell yeah, I totally, TOTALLY, regret it.


Ah, the bittersweet taste of maturity.

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