Saturday, 12 May 2012

Confessions on an English non-Opium Eater in a new city

"To the Reader, I here present you, courteous reader, with the record of a remarkable period in my life...."

I don't know where to start. It's all a daze. My head is fuzzy, like something fuzzy, and I can see everything but can't touch any of it. I can't grab hold of anything; it's all beyond my reach. 
      I know where I am but always forget. When I have to write my address, the one that comes to my head is where I lived a year and a half ago. I know where I live but feel like I'm leaving in two days. The only thing I can touch is Oscar, and thank god; he is what brings my feet to the ground. 
     It's hard isn't it? Life. Trying to do what you want to do. Trying to be true to yourself, be liked, be respected, be loved. That's all I've ever wanted. Along with money and to be a writer.