I’m just from the meeting with the girls. I didn’t want to come but it was an obligation for me to keep up. The first thing I was afraid of was questions about private life and talks about a relationship. Recently I found out that it’s hard for me to verbalize all I think about, to say nothing about sharing. All those New Year decorations and need to buy gifts made me feel so upset. That’s almost reflective for me. Moreover, I can’t see Mary’s success (selling and workshop), it strikes my┬ásenses.

What is it for? I mean construction, study, domestic routine, people at the Uni. What this lack of money and constant shame for? What my loneliness for? No life. No problems. No problems, no life.

There was an odd emptiness, though we were in the beautiful valley near the college. We drunk delicious wine with cheese. It doesn’t heal my New Year time blue mood.

Girls were pretty, but I couldn’t speak out on some topics and haven’t really talked. I made jokes, commented and fumbled wine stopper. That’s all. That’s all my role. I spoke kinda confident when we discussed news and no more.

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It’s a pattern, less you write (draw, learn) less you want to start doing it again. But someday I must to return and do it like there was no time gap.

This morning I was in rush, again I overslept extra thirty minutes and had to get ready faster and without proper exercises. Surely, I was a bit crushed. I reviewed my report on the bus and reviewed it again and again during the workshop itself. There was stuffy air in a room, and I got a headache. Everybody was badly reading a text from a list while I was looking through a narrow crack in the blinds. It was snowing outside. When it was my turn I did all the same as usual. But this time I found out problems in my speaking skills, it was hard to connect ideas with each other. Linking phrases simply fell out of my head. And, speaking critically, the content was scarce though I really tried to tell about Alexander Pope’s core ideas. Then I took another report, John Milton this time.

After a short compulsory lecture, I went home. Lately, I have a strange situation with books. As I finished “Why art cannot be taught” many self-help books appeared on my phone. There are about three of them and all are wishy-washy. But I need something of such kind now.