Dear Diary,

This week was brutal. I’ve worked every night, didn’t have enough time to spend with my family, didn’t whiff my dog’s cheese paws enough, and I’ve only seen four episodes of Breaking Bad (which is bad because that’s how many episodes I usually watch on a night).

I did feel joy, but I also cried and got angry. I reached my boiling point, and this one here, who may look shy and quiet, got to take her claws off (for a bit). I don’t have much to say this week. I didn’t have the time, emotional capacity, or physical energy to write a new story. I didn’t want to leave y’all with one of my fictions (again). I got a ton of those.

I wanted to switch things up and be spontaneous this week. A Diary is supposed to be private, I know. Sometimes it’s good to share parts of yourself with the world. You never know who you might inspire or save. So I will leave you all with this, something I thought of today while watching Coldplay live in Buenos Aires. Those who know me know that I’m not too fond of poems. They’re dull and uninspiring, but that’s my personal opinion. So, yes, I’ll be inspiring you with the thing that uninspires me the most. I also don’t know the technique of it; when the hell do I stop? I thought of most of it during the concert but structured it when I got home. It’s in my native language Papiamento, so I hope you’ll enjoy it, and let me know what you think.

Laga mi, caramba!

Pakico mi mester sconde loke ami ta sinti?

Pa no incomoda bo?

Pa no pone bo cuestiona bo mes?

Pa bo no mester responsabilisa bo mes?

Pakico mi mester sconde loke ami ta sinti?

Pa abo keda bon?

Pa abo disfruta?

Pa abo sigui briya?

Pakico mi mester sconde loke ami ta sinti?

Pasobra abo a wordo lanta cu hende mester ta fuerte tur ora?

Pasobra e cosnan bon so mester comparti?

Pasobra bo no tin e balentia pa ta vulnerabel?

Pakico mi mester sconde loke ami ta sinti?

Pasobra bo manera di establece pas ta door di ignora e problemanan?

Pasobra bo no tin e capacidad emocional pa enfrenta mi?

Pasobra bo tin miedo di kibra?

Afterthoughts

I sat in the theatre and watched a concert full of love, but my heart was still angry and primarily disappointed. I didn’t even shed a tear. Maybe that’s because I cried my eyeballs while watching Mario yesterday. I really wished I could’ve watched it with my dad. So Dad, I’ve you’re reading this, take me next week, and I’ll stop bothering you to take me to see Barbie.

Diary, next week isn’t going to be better eighter, right? The last part of Firefly Lane will be out on Thursday, and my heart is not ready.

I hope you have a good week.