"As I was standing on the Piazzale Michelangelo I looked down at Florence covered in the lights of the night and I realized I'm only a small piece of the universe. If I disappear nothing will change. No one will know. And yet if every star refuses to shine the sky will become a dark hole above us."

Author's note:

It's a short piece from my first travel essay about Florence. I would post the whole essay, but it just works better with the photos so if you're interested you can read it on my blog "Despicable Diary On the Run"

Do you ever wonder why some of your co-workers sit on their asses, laughing like donkeys, chit chatting about their new dresses/nail polishers/lace panties, perfect kids with their perfect wedding/boyfriend/flat while you, oh, let’s say scrub the can of every day crappy responsibilities? Yeah, me too. Is it because they know how to butter up to the bosses or like they say because stupid ones are lucky? Maybe there is a problem with you since you can’t adjust to those rules? Ok, so the thing is… Just stop it. Thinking is good, it improves our creativity, our mind is developing fresh ideas and all those other great things. Overthinking is bad. Very bad. It makes us bitter, darker inside, jealous of those assholes. Who get away with whatever they do. Because the truth is we can’t change some things. How simple is that? How sad and unfair it feels?

Should we push harder and harder until we not only reach, but ultimately cross our limits? Until our eyeballs pop out and we bleed out on the green grass? I thought so when I was 20, but I’m way passed that now. Still, the public opinion thinks we should do that. All those life coaches who shout at us “don’t be afraid, face your weaknesses, everything is possible!” are spread all over us like herpes. You open the fridge because you’re thirsty and surprise! Another life coach attacks your poor brain with his Angus Young’s dance on the TED’s stage. And then they claim you drink too much booze. Really, what a coincidence. It’s like getting fucked from behind by too big cock. Or getting a bad piece of pussy. You’re so excited, full of hope only to end up with pain and disgusting taste in your mouth.

Something strange is going on with me lately. I want to fight for my better future, but I’m tired. Maybe I’m slowly losing my luchadora’s power? Maybe I’m becoming bitter and angry with every suffered failure. Maybe I’m just a hopeless cynic. Or maybe because I have anemia. Plus none of those recent "stallions" was able to give me orgasm. Although I doubt the last one has anything to do with my tiredness.

Author's note:

Hi guys, I just started my blog "Despicable Diary", I'll be posting many creative things there, I'll be happy if you check it out!

Oh, and I'll be publishing some of my blog posts here, on Prose.com. so you're more than welcome to comment :)