Some mumble-jumble-bullshit-drunk-writing

I mean, what happens when you see nobody on the phone. When you feel completely alone?

What’s about those successful people. Every time you see someone fancy, they have something to tell you.
If you really dig, you’ll always find something thoughtful at anybody. There’s a bit of wisdom in anybody words, you just have to be attentive enough to catch it.

But what about me? What about people like me? What about poor and uninteresting people. Failed, normal, boring, everyday-life people? Do they have wisdom? What can I learn from them?

Why do I see all this successful people, going on about their lives, giving their awesome, fruitful advices, and nothing changes at my life.
Why I don’t I see a light at the end of the tunnel?
Why is everything the same? Nothing changes…
It’s all equal as it always has been…
What the fuck?

WTF is going on with me? Why do I have all this knowledge, all this content, all this help from all this awesome people and yet all I wanna do is go to a bar and get drunk with people I don’t really like.

Why am I seeking company when all that…

I’m alone.

I’m by myself.

That’s why I’m writing.
You just write when you are alone. As a way to disguise your loneliness.
I’m drinking alone. By myself.
As a way to forget the pain of existence. The same old boring existence that I was talking about above, and even after all the self-help books and videos, and podcasts and audio books, and blogs and facebook pages… I’m still the same.. Nothing changed.
I’m still broke and alone. Now drinking by myself to numb my feelings and emotions and feel less sorry about myself.

I even wonder if all this self-help is even worthy. If it is even effective. Because I’m not seeing any improvement.

What’s wrong with me? Why do I live in a portuguese speaking country and still, spend all my day looking at, listen and reading english content. I’m physically in Brazil, but I live abroad virtually. And I can’t relate to nobody. No one can understand me. No one can speak my language, understand my feeling, my experiences. I can’t express myself to the ones near me cause I’m living inside an illusion.

I’m not north-american. Neither european. I’m brazilian. But I want to neglect it. Since I was a little kid.
I always wanted to be different.
The foreign always excited me.
And yet, I’m still here… trapped into this miserable existence.
Why can’t I be happy?

I’m not able to communicate with any of my Brazilian countrymen fellows.
This text even… It’s not going to be read by nobody, this are void words.

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