It is tough for me not to feel down and out these days. There has been a concentration of bad vibe around me that I sincerely have a hard time to keep the optimistic engine going.
I've been rejected from LSE, which can appear a calculated failure to whom knows me best. And in the end it is so, I don't claim any injustice or feel unlucky, simply I played my chance on the hardest odd and came up short. Shit happens they say. What really hurts it's the complete lack of direction I have know, meaning that I don't even know what to hope for the years to come. I know swing between different hypotesis, not knowing where to go. The prospective of staying in Rome is hard, not only for my desire of starting an independent life, possibly in fairer country, but especially since what I would study here appears incredibly stupid and useless.The road that leads abroad is complicated, economically and pratically.
Following others you never arrive first, but you may not arrive. I now have to consider all sides of my situation in the next weeks and figure out what's best for me. It is certain that the great expectations I had were unaccurate. I do not own, at least right now, a good starting point.
I'll try, even if it costs me a lot, to end up like I did the other day meaning it:
The best is yet to come.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Monday, March 12, 2007
What's next? (Beauty)
Behind every corner there's beauty. Showing itself suddenly, surprising and scaring. Though what I ask now it's what's next?
I have a firm convinction that best is yet to come, nevertheless what's beyond next corner is the great "?" .
Will beauty stun me once more or the sad grey of empty days is going to become abitude?
First of all I'd like this flew to pass, I hate being sick. My head's hurting and I can't focus on anything. Furtheremore I am already nervous for Champions League quarter finals against Manchester United. That's fucking hell of a team.
These are days of words not said, secrets not told, speeches not spoken, conversations not talked. I vaguely hope for good news from London, already quit hopelessly look for an internship. So what I do can't be said and what I say can't be done.
I know how much my words may sound cryptic but one day I'll explain everyone, myself in first place, I swear.
In the mean time take a look at last corner's beauty.
I have a firm convinction that best is yet to come, nevertheless what's beyond next corner is the great "?" .
Will beauty stun me once more or the sad grey of empty days is going to become abitude?
First of all I'd like this flew to pass, I hate being sick. My head's hurting and I can't focus on anything. Furtheremore I am already nervous for Champions League quarter finals against Manchester United. That's fucking hell of a team.
These are days of words not said, secrets not told, speeches not spoken, conversations not talked. I vaguely hope for good news from London, already quit hopelessly look for an internship. So what I do can't be said and what I say can't be done.
I know how much my words may sound cryptic but one day I'll explain everyone, myself in first place, I swear.
In the mean time take a look at last corner's beauty.
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