I can take next to nothing.

Even though I am and always have been panicking for all sorts of reasons, I am still conscious enough to realize my reasons are small.

There’s a saying in Portuguese that says God will only give you as much as you can take. If there is in fact a God up there, I’m happy He realizes I can handle next to nothing and that’s fine by me.

Today, I came home with chest pains.

I called my cousin during lunch and she told me that not only her 14 days old baby probably had a syndrome , it’s possible that he’ll need brain surgery.

She was desperate. She hasn’t slept ever since he was born. She is afraid of looking away. There’s absolutely nothing she can do to help her child and that killed me.

I pray to this God I believe from time to time that things always work out for me. I am not strong at all. I’m afraid of birds. Tiny birds. That’s how much I can’t handle problems. I am just not prepared for this world.

Our kids are a handful. I sleep with one eye open. I haven’t felt rested in about 3 years. I am exhausted and I miss tons of things.that can only mean one thing: We are the lucky ones.

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Lottery plans

Getting rich may seem like the answer to all their problems to so many people but, at the same time, isn’t “getting somewhere” kind of what keeps us going?

For instance, at this point of my life, I am trying desperately to find a job that allows me to move to Montreal. If I were rich I’d just… go. Weird.

So, if that happened, what would be the shit I would still get up to do? Do I even know?

What moves me? Who in the Lord’s name am I?

When I was 15 I think I was that person. Well, not the rich person. I was the person who had a ton of free time to do the things she wanted to do and not get paid for it.

It got me thinking.

What a different person I would be if I only did what I wanted to do.

Like I did when I was 15, I would get up to draw.

I would most likely learn how to play the piano.

I would stay up late. I hate sleeping early so much, my college friends kept asking if I was on cocaine. The answer is no, by the way.

I would live in the most beautiful city in the world, or maybe in NY, in a small apartment not proportional to my wealth just because it would feel cozy.

Speaking of cozy, I would buy the house from home alone, make it look just like the movie and turn it to an orphanage so special that kids would feel welcome and safe there. I would also probably adopt them all, since I would be so rich.

And, at the end of the day, I would lie down with my children and watch classic disney cartoons… just like I am doing right now. Except, there would be a few less worries in my mind.

I should really play that lottery.

Today, I made a little drawing istead. It’s not much but it’s kind of a step torward the life I wanna live.

Lottery or no lottery, I’ll find a way to check the items on my list.

I’m still 10

I remember this one day, when I was 10 years old. It was hot and I was getting ready to go to school after lunch. My dad had made me beef and rice. It was so good, I can still taste it. But it was just another day, really. Still, it remember it vividly because when I was walking down the road I looked back and saw my dad waving at me from the window.

I cried.

Not because I was a brat and wanted things done my way. I cried because it hurt to leave him. I cried because I knew he didn’t want to say goodbye either.  I wanted to stay there and enjoy our lunch a little longer. I hated that I couldn’t be where I wanted to be and I knew that one day, all I would have left from him would be the memories. And they felt like so few.

He was crying too.

Twenty-five years passed and, this morning, when I left the house, my daughters asked me not to go. They cried too. They wanted to be with me; and I wanted to be with them. Play their little games, do their little puzzles. Nothing fancy. We’re not fancy.

I just didn’t wanna leave. Again. Inside, I am still that 10 year old girl. 

I promised them mommy would find a different job that would allow her to stay home a bit more. But, don’t get me wrong, this isn’t something I’m doing just because they cried. Kids cry (so, I’ve heard).  It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time as I can feel these steel structures sucking the life out of me – I might have mentioned this 1 or 120 times here.

I think I am smart enough to organize this life of mine as my single goal at life right now is to sit on my couch, look around, and wish for nothing to be different. I’ve got the major stuff figured out. But the puzzle is not complete yet.

I’m getting there.

I cannot talk about what happened in Florida yesterday. I just can’t handle this fucking world.