The year is 2020 and days, weeks and months are pushing towards end of the year, almost. The month is July. I am sitting in my bunk bed. Spotify ringing in my ear enveloping this well of emotions turn into words transcending from my mind down to my fingertips. Pressing these keys with letters feels like a race. As if I am harnessing my flow of thoughts and capturing it in time and motion through words as I let go of each keys and let it form.
It has been a while being able to see myself expressing in this blog. Music has always been my refuge when things does not go well around me. This is the reason it somehow tickled my flow and wrap around my head. Telling me to write and see it until the end.
I am emotional. The state I am in, I think, is never different from anyone else out there. We all have been going through this. All of us have been bringing ourselves out there, making each day, telling each day, sleeping each day, eating each day, working from home each day, and all that round about each day. The corners of home is the bubble. A bubble that is safe but that can burst too.
Connectivity in all sense became demanding in a level, at a point. Connectivity that is limited to electronic screens, small and boxed. That punch hole lens feeding on the images of ourselves and then mirroring it to any part of the world.
Life goes on. The corners of my apartment has been my refuge. I am wallowing in this niche. Feeling good, feeling better, feeling best. Feeling like in a deep end when my mind wanders to thinking those uncertainties. I have this fear. I have this anger. I am upset. I am frustrated. I am helpless. And it sucks. While I try to look for motivation and bring myself some positivity, I learn to accept. I go back to listening inside me.
I am human, after all. I am breathing. Still breathing.