DAYS I HAVEN’T MET CHARLIE BROOKER
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A deep breath after a couple of days off. Or at least what you expected it would be a couple of days off. I don’t mean to sink too deep into details here, although I thought about it, Charlie, but I must mention briefly how I had the opportunity to spend this last weekend with my family, after a long time apart, and, as expected, it wasn’t exactly as pleasant as most families blindly hope. Well, those things never truly are.
I think I figured it out a lot more about myself than I expected, having the proper opportunity to actually “confront” the people that constantly measure my achievements by the amount of money I’m making. It’s as if nothing is impressive enough if it’s not followed by a very nice and incredibly fat paycheck with it, side by side. I guess one can make an argument on how the capitalist world classify us solely in that form as well, but I don’t know, I thought families were supposed to be different. Oh well, call me naive…
Behind that insecurity, hidden deep inside those shouts of judgement and delusions of greatness, that constant need to throw up random advice simply so one can remain relevant in the forever-changing life us, the “children”, have chosen; what’s left there? I mean, is there anything left there? I’m aware the love exists and how hard it is to understand others, especially when learning is not part of your default skills, but if our dialogues depend on the amount of failure or success I carry along to happen — and I must add here those are measured, as predicted, exclusively by their standards — is there a purpose in our “friendship”?
I think nothing is more cliché than a wanna-be writer with some Daddy-issues. Well, if I’m not to be acknowledged by my work, at the very least I’ll fit in thanks to my unmatchable whining skills. I’ll keep on doing whatever I have to keep on going this week, as predicted, but I must highlight, I can’t think straight about anything properly this Monday thanks to that weekend. I guess it is my fault I couldn’t settle back in my home country, with my vanilla ex-Girlfriend and my lifeless mundane routine. Guess I should have made the proper choices back then. I’ll try to make this week not about them, but it’s important I put it on paper, at least this digital one, the lack of focus I experience. How much I don’t feel like writing for you today and how I won’t even try correcting this shit. This bullshit sadness I feel right now just sucks. Seriously, I’m working towards my shit and I’ve promised I wouldn’t complain as if my life was truly hard. It isn’t. But this week, well, not thanks to those who made it that way.
Day 78, Charlie. This is the post I regret the most, written out of anger and frustration, after realising the obvious, that they were supporting me all alone. I projected my frustrations on the ones who deserve it the least. Today, I don’t deserve to meet you.