So many people, and not one able to read my mind.

It's been nearly 18 months since I last left the UK. Pretty long, considering I wouldn't stay with my feet planted anywhere longer than 8 months. Always on the road, since I left that immense country down south, my home. What it used to be my home. Now I'm here, free to go, and I don't really want to go anywhere. Can't think of a place better than right here, right now, in this city I've been loathing for most of the time I've been residing within its chaotic districts. Always hating the grey sky, the toxic air, the coldness of its inhabitants, the trains always late, always packed full of sweaty, sick, frustrated people, most of them dispirited immigrants trying to make ends meet and fuck off back home asap. Thinking, "this is not it. This is not where I should be." And then, 18 months later, the city has finally pushed me on my knees. "Here is the truth, so now you can hate me": I surrender.

I've cried so many times in so many places, in pubs, in buses, on the street, in my bed until I fell asleep with exhaustion, that I can't bear to leave a place that has so many pieces of me scattered around it. The only other place that holds most of my scars in custody is Balneario Camboriu, my darling little beach town, BC. Everything I'm scared to do these days I did it in BC. I was a ballsy little girl back then. All my first-times happened in BC. The drinks, the drugs, the boys, the men, the sex, the tattoos and piercings, the fights, the passions. The going-back-home-stoned-and-barefoot-on-the-beach-early-mornings, the driving-high-on-a-acid-from-one-town-to-another, the blow-job-in-the-car-at-night-on-one-of-my-friends'-brother, the shutting-myself-in-my-room-crying-and-listening-to-TheDoors.

Then after all that, I grew out of my skin, too big to stay in that little town, so I run away. First to Curitiba, then to New York City, then to London. But the bigger the city, the smaller I became. Too many people, and none of them able to read my mind. None of them interested in looking at me, or more to the point, see through me. I was like Alice in Wonderland, when she takes that magic potion and diminishes until she is as tiny as an insignificant insect. That's me. A little insignificant bug in the middle of the jungle, afraid to die smashed under the giant paw of an elephant. 

It was never supposed to be like that.

Now, all I can think of is how to be unafraid, how to make my point come across. How to grab people's ear and say "Oi! listen to me!" Because I don't know how to do that, I don't know how to be visible without worrying about being irrelevant. I don't want to waste anyone's time. No, that's not it. I DON'T WANT TO CARE IF I'M WASTING ANYONE'S TIME. Don't want to listen? Fuck off back home then. 

So, that's why I'm now unable to go anywhere else. Because right now I need to find my place in this spectacularly grand city. 

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ps: can't stop listening to radiohead's new album "In Rainbows." Must be one of the most beautiful albums ever made. No excuses not to buy it: you can give as little as $0.01 for it. But I were you, would give more, because it's JUST SO WORTH IT.