March, Eleven, Two Thousand and Seven.

And it goes on. Worrying about an office job that is not suited for me. Worrying about the job that is supposed to be suited for me, but that I think I am not doing well. Bridges that fall apart. Everybody is leaving as time goes by. Once or twice per year. Some people goes and come back. Some other may come back, but I do not know about them, so, it is as if they never come back. Thinking, thinking thinking, thnking sometimes seems like a curse, instead of a blessing. Thinking too much leads to despair, to move in an eternal circle of doubts. And what's the point of writing these? Maybe to gain, at least, some relief to this feelings. To the feeling that the past is showing up everytime, telling that your mistakes led you to where you are now. The feeling that loneliness have prevailed. The feeling that someone is with you. Do we really need to interact with the people? Seems to be, but, sometimes I think that it only leads to deceive. Am I taking the right desitions? Am I doing right? Am I good? Or good enough? And, at last, just like yesterday....what am I?