What would I tell the 21 years old me. Advice from the vault.

A couple of weeks ago, I started working in a Brazilian steakhouse, close to my house. I went there for lunch and they offered me a job. The manager told me they needed another manager and with my experience in restaurants, I could do the job. He called me the next day and offered me the hostess position. According to him “You will need to know the other employees first, so they don’t get frustrated with the new manager.” I accepted the hostess position. They just hired a new manager. 

Was I tripping? No, because we had the interview in Portuguese, so I can’t even use the excuse of being lost in translation. They just allured me into getting a job, to get a better position later, that won’t probably happen. So here I’m, 36 years old, working again as a hostess. 

For little to no money. It’s all good. I’m working with some 20 something years old, and I feel like I have a lot to teach and share my wisdom *insert sarcasm*. I think I do have some life experience that’s worth sharing, and the best part is, they listen to me. At least I think they do. 

So here is some of what I’ve been telling them. Some things which I would love that someone would have told me when I was 21. 

Arraial do Cabo – Rio de Janeiro – Sorry about the 2008 Camera Resolution.

Don’t jump into College so fast.

I started college when I was 19, almost 20, and I still drag thinking about what could I have done differently, if I had waited just a little longer. Tourism and Hospitality Management is a vague degree, that you normally don’t need to work in hotels and restaurants. I had friends who took journalism, New Media classes and went to Culinary schools, who don’t work with that anymore, in their 30’s. They all followed their heart at some point and decided to do what made them happy, instead of what society expected from them. 

It’s ok if you don’t have money.

Don’t get 70 hour work weeks and be exhausted to enjoy the time of your life, because you need to catch up with all the bills. Be broke, accept some help if someone offers. Help comes in different forms.

Maybe the help is staying in an apartment for free, when they don’t live there, like a housekeeper. Or some food donations from friends, when you have zero money. Make sure to befriend a chef, they are the ones who can feed you, because they always cook too much. It’s ok to struggle in your 20’s. I’m not talking about the kids whose parents are rich and yet they pretend to suffer when the only suffering is to check their bank account for allowance. 

I’m talking about the chicken noodle ramen folks. You know who you are.  

He/She might not be the love of your life, and it’s ok to admit it. 

Life will move on and so does you. They need to feel loved and validated is real and at some point, we all feel like we are going to die if the person doesn’t reciprocate the love. It’s a dead-end zone. Don’t give someone exclusive attention, if the feeling is not mutual.

It’s almost guaranteed you are going to crash at some point. Some people just do that to feed their ego and you are their unlimited amount of coins. You just have to hit your head on the brick a few times, and they get the coins.

Some people just like to allure you into their world, like nothing else matters, only to make themselves feel validated. Make plenty of mistakes, learn from them and move on. Or be like Taylor Swift who wrote a 10-minute song and profit from heartbreak. Something gotta give. 

Don’t let people dictate how you should behave. 

“Oh, look how crazy she is.” I’ve heard that plenty of times when I was just being as happy as I could be. I didn’t need anyone’s validation and tagging me like the crazy one was their easiest way to bring me down. As you start taming yourself because your loud mouth is not accepted by some members of society. People are usually led by church believes. Bless your heart, honey. Be loud, be crazy, laugh, and make memories. Those shameful folks are always going to judge you, no matter how you behave, so might as well have fun. 

First time seeing snow in 2007- North Carolina

Travel. As much as you can and as far as you can. 

I remember being in my early 20’s, visiting different places and staying at hostels. Hostels are shared accommodation, very popular in Europe, where the type of hotel was originated. You have CoEd rooms or Male and Female dorms, usually with bunkbeds. It gives you a sense of respect and freedom, and if you are traveling alone like was my case most of the time, you can make friends and meet people from all over the world.

In most of the hostels, you have a communal kitchen, a shared living room, and sometimes a bar, as they had at the one I stayed in Perth, Australia. They offered breakfast in the morning and became a bar at night. 

While young and broke, visiting coastal cities in Rio, I had the chance to figure out what I love doing. Photography and travel to new and not-so-popular places. One of my biggest dreams at that time was to backpack around Europe. 

I even bought the guide and the backpack itself, but I couldn’t afford to go. I wish someone would have told me to take a risk and go anyway. That’s why I say, if you are broke, go broke. Sleep in a hostel, have one meal a deal, make friends, check out less touristic places, eat like a local. Make memories. Work abroad. 

The only time I visited NYC, in 2007. Stayed in a hostel, had 1 meal a deal, +coffee. I was utterly alone in the city. Asking for strangers to take pictures. Other tourists, cause new yorkers don’t stop for you.

If money is a real problem, work abroad. 

If I remember correctly, Europe has a type of visa called a Holiday Visa, which allows European citizens to work and travel around Australia for up to two years. And that’s how most of the people I met from Europe were doing in Australia. For some other people, you have to get a working visa and pay some agency fees, but you can get it back with your work in that country. You need that first investment though, but after that, you can make it. It’s all about taking chances. I did. 

Before becoming a permanent resident in the States, I came over two times on a J1 type of visa, that allowed me to work for a few months at a time, like in Ski Resorts and restaurants, during the winter season. I also went to Australia, on the same type of visa, to work for a year. Remember you can always volunteer, research what type of temporary visa the country you are interested in has and explore all the options. Not saying this is only a 20’s something thing to do, it’s because it’s much easier when you are younger. 

When you have some baggage, you are not as free as you were at some point. You are more cautious. 

I have this conversation with my coworkers and I feel like I’m their Mr. Myagi. Go ahead Hostess-San, be wise and live your life. Take chances. Giving some advice to the novice makes me want to stay in that place just for that purpose. My ego. 

See you next week, weather permitting.




What is your comfort zone and how to get out of it. Or at least try to.

Why does everyone looks so cool and savvy online when I’m 36, feeling inadequate like I’m constantly having an out-of-body experience. My soul flying, like a kite, shaking and moving without steadiness. Feels like I’m not going anywhere, I’m just there wiggling on the wind.

Where does this feeling of inadequacy come from?

I guarantee I’m not the only one and it is not because I’m an immigrant either. I have friends from all over the place that feels the same way. We all feel like a hamster in the wheel, running to get nowhere, making money for someone else. Putting all of our passions aside because we first have to make a living, and we can’t afford to drop everything to invest in whatever we want to do.


For most of us, what we really like to do, we tend to keep a hobby. Either because we don’t think we are going to make any money with it, or in my case, I feel like I would destroy the only thing that makes me truly happy. I’ve been passionate about photography for over 17 years now. I never had the courage to make it into a career.

I’m too scared to be criticized for something I’m so devoted to. It’s like my writing.

I love writing, but instead of trying to pursue something with it, I’m still keeping it to myself because I’m too scared about what others are going to think of my stories, or if my character’s arc is according to the industry standards among other things. So I stay in my comfort zone. Writing on this blog.

What is your comfort zone?

Mine is working in hotels and restaurants. I’ve been doing it for so long, that it’s just a matter of days to be familiar with the new place and then I’m bored again. I feel compelled to try something else, but I always end up in the same spot over and over.


I know that kind of job will give me the most secure of all because it’s something I dominate and like a robot, you just program it and let it do its stuff. The security comes from not needing to learn anything new, and with that avoid criticism of being a newbie.

It shouldn’t be like that, but we are all humans and we tend to not want to make drastic changes unless we need to.

Taking risks is not for everyone.

The biggest risk I’ve ever taken in my life was moving to America to take English classes and not coming back to my home country. I had it all planned, but the way it unfolded still shocks me to my core. Actually moving to America was not too risky, what was really risky was moving to Georgia.Without having proper documentation.

me and my Kodak camera in 2007

I guess that’s why I’m in my comfort zone now, because all the happened over there, made me not want to take any other risk in my life. Like zero new adventures.

Living those 4 years in Georgia, made me create a cocoon. The reverse butterfly effect, where the butterfly grows out of the cocoon, I got back in. Have you ever had such a traumatic experience that shake your entire core and made you the most skeptical person to the day?

Mine was a series of things happening, in my restaurant career and my personal life, that made me see the worst in people, for way too long.

My comfort zone makes me look like I’m not doing enough to be wherever I aim to be.

It always feels like I’m not working enough, networking enough, sharing enough. I keep questioning myself on how can I do it better, or what would I have to do to not be so passive with my life anymore.

Can I have an exciting life, where I can showcase my travels, my achievements, my new career development? The comfort zone is keeping me where I need it to be, for right now.

I want to take a step further, but also, life is not a competition.

I’m not here to compete with anybody. Even though it seems like that’s all we are doing at this time and date.

Westminster Train Station

I guarantee you that you also have something you’d like to showcase, as something that you are really proud of, that something is holding you back. That’s where it lays your comfort zone, my friend.

A place where you know all your coworkers, all your friends are the same friends you have always seen, the same places you go to. There is nothing new to try. You are to accommodate to take a step further. The unknown is scary and who you might find there too.

This blog is an example of me stepping out of my comfort zone of working in hotels and restaurants. I come over here, every other week, to write a post about something that I’m feeling, and would like to share my experience about navigating life as an immigrant.

I don’t care if I have a lot of views or even if my blog hit the stats that I hope for. I write because it’s something that I feel like I need to do, in order to feel accomplished.

It’s my personal share of success.

That’s the only thing that makes me navigate life without feeling like a robot owned by a corporation, who pays me a little bit over a minimum wage and drowns my hopes and dreams. I need my comfort zone to be where I enjoy also to be.

What works for me is been taking small steps and making reasonable lists that I can accomplish. Out of my comfort zone. I’m also working on the depths of why I’m stuck in this position and how can I venture outside.

Does the comfort zone also have some to deal with anxiety?

I read an Instagram post about it the other day and it made me reflect on why my comfort zone is attached to my anxiety and ability to get my projects to move forward? If any psychologists are reading this, let me know if I’m thinking correctly.

Please let me know in the comments what is your comfort zone and what’s keeping you there? Are you afraid of trying, fearing something might derail you from what you are used to, or the unexpected reaction of complete strangers online?

Maybe both.

Stay healthy, stay well.

Why can’t I be a minimalist.

A few days ago, we moved to a new apartment, after living an entire year in a place I considered pretty much how the inside of a cast would look like. Dark, with no ventilation and people stepping on your head for the rest of eternity.

We tried to move last June, unfortunately, it didn’t happen, because things only happen with me, when they are supposed to. I don’t work against the universe. I just let it be. Even though that might cause me an extreme cause of claustrophobia and daily rage.

“Oh, you should be thankful for having a place to live,” I was, but also I don’t wish that type of apartment on anyone else. Again, it was temporary. More like an emergency, as we had just moved to Denver and had spent a lot with moving costs. That place seemed suitable.

The year went by fast.

It was also the year that I bought less stuff. Less furniture, fewer clothes, shoes, and kitchen gadgets. I didn’t have any space to put in those 600 sqft 1 bedroom apartments. It was already cluttered before we even moved in. The windows were small and it was like living in the underworld. A cave, where people that live off the grid go into hiding. Receiving visitors was treacherous. My friends came over to celebrate my birthday, all the way from Georgia. They had to sleep in my camper, parked in front of the house. It was fun for them and the kids, but I was mortified.

In the Cold November Rain

Settling in a new place has never been easier. It’s much more pleasurable when you go from a small place to a little bigger unit. Having my office back has also shifted my perspective into what I need to do in terms of peace, to plan my next step. Putting out the stuff from the box, I realized I could never be a minimalist.

Great for people that live with one fork, one knife, and a pan. I’m a collector, again collector, not hoarder, I throw stuff out. When it is necessary.

I need to have the security of having gadgets.

I landed in this country with two suitcases. I had absolutely nothing, as I left everything I had behind to start fresh in a new country. As I left all my memorabilia at home, I felt helpless. Helpless in terms of looking around and don’t see anything from my past, any of my references. Everything was new. I was new.

Little by little, with all the working hours I put in, I started acquiring the items for my new so-called life. My life in America, living as an American, buying useless stuff only to accumulate in the garage.

I quickly got attached, especially to the books.

I still have the first book I bought in a used bookstore in Chicago, back in 2012. Wicked is still on the shelf to remind me how far I’ve come. I don’t have any of the stuff I brought from Brasil. It was easy to get rid of those since there was not much, and the Chicago winter was much harder than Sao Paulo’s winter.

Every time I go to Brazil, I pick up some of the stuff that is still at my mom’s house. My cd collection, my Titanic VHS, my books. My mom waits for me with a bag of my old stuff, because she also doesn’t have much space, at least that’s what she tells me.

Those are my memories, not hers.

My mom had a box ready with my stuff, for me to bring home from Brazil.

If you ever had to live abroad, you know that the minimum you can have in the new country can make a lot of difference. It’s not just stuff, it represents what you are now, your success, your accomplishments.

I can’t be a minimalist because, for example, I like my books too much. I can’t just read and get rid of it. I mark some passages while I’m reading. Some pages, even entire paragraphs.

Books are and have always been a great companion. I buy new ones, even though I have at least ten new ones to read. It also works for stationery items.

Folders, pens, planners, calendars, you name it, I have it.

If I think it’s cute and somehow useful, I will make sure to buy it. Even though I’m not at school anymore whenever the new school year starts at Walmart, I stock up on notebooks and pens.

To add all this up, I buy containers to store all that. Drawers, shelves, colored bins and that makes happy. Now you asked me how I manage to have all that in a 1 bedroom apartment? Sadly, I don’t have the answer to that.

Now I’m in a bigger place, it will be like a scavenger hunt with all the lost boxes. Like the Goofy Stickers I bought at Disney, God knows how long ago. Have I used it in the past 3 years? No. Do I intend to throw it out? Also no.

Josh can’t be a minimalist either.

Everything he has from Indiana, he is still keeping, like the blanket he has had since he was 3 years old or the shirt he wore when we hung out on the first Halloween.

He can’t be a minimalist, but he has the potential to be a hoarder. The tools work for him the same way Sephora eye palettes works for me. They all do different things, at least he says so.

New trends and influencers caused people to rethink their lifestyles.

Marie Kondo, the author of “The life-changing magic of tidying up” a few years ago in a Netflix series, told us to throw everything that doesn’t spark us joy in our lives anymore, in the garbage.

According to her explanation, the energy needs to circulate, and I agree. You don’t need to be a hoarder, but you can keep the stuff that brings comfort, like old books.

At the same time, Marie Kondo’s series was out, Netflix released a documentary about minimalism and how Americans consume a lot of unnecessary stuff.

How they have enormous houses and almost everyone has a garage full of stuff they don’t need, when they don’t have a garage, they have paid storage.

Which has been our case for the past 3 years. Living in a 1 bedroom apartment you barely have enough space for yourself, I can’t imagine storing all those tools in a closet.

Capitalism always makes you want more and more.

I don’t buy unnecessary stuff. Not anymore. Books yes, stationery items, yes. Clothes, shoes, kitchen gadgets I already have more than enough. As soon as I realized that I was only buying stuff to cover up my sadness and my lack of identity in this country, I learned how to manage consumerism.

The reason is I can’t be a minimalist, getting rid of everything I bought, but I can manage what I buy, with consciousness. Also, I never met an immigrant that is a minimalist, for the exact reason I said before.

Hopefully, you do whatever makes you happy. Like when I brought my new country some of the old me, with my CDs, magazines, and books.



72 Hours in Rio- Part 2

Part 2 –

We took the stairs to the bottom level, where the more upscale restaurants are located. We went to this Italian restaurant because Josh wanted pizza and it was the cheapest thing we could find to share. 

Rio is a very expensive city.

It has always been. It is very touristic, very impressive and a cool place to be. No matter where you are if you say “I was in Rio” they know, you most likely had a good time. 

When in Rome, you make him eat pizza with a knife and fork. It took two seconds after the picture for him to drop it.

Uber again, which is cheap by the way, and hit the hotel. At night, we were going to meet some of my friends.  

It was the hugs that got me.

I miss hugging my friends and letting the conversation flow without having to stop and explain my references. These people are my references, they participate in my stories, they help to create them. Seating in a bar and just talking about life, not trying to impress anyone, just being cool with the surrounding, took a huge weight off my shoulders. It felt like my soul finally met my body. It was a weird feeling of was I off my body this entire time? 

In America, for some reason, I’m always on my tiptoes. Walking in eggs shells, watching all my moves. It’s exhausting. It seems like if I say something wrong, I will either be told to go back home or not to be weird. I always have to be watching what I say, and how I say it. Not in Rio. 

Day 3 – It’s Not Goodbye, it’s I see you soon. 

Saturday morning we for breakfast with one of my childhood friends/Teenage years/Young adult friend. Once again, my heart was full. We went to a hippie neighborhood, to have brunch, in a place where they serve Northeast food. Which by the way is my favorite type of food in Brazil.  

We had to wait for a little because it was just the way I like it unorganized and chaotic, but I didn’t care, because I was with my friend and her family. She has the cutest baby and the coolest husband, who joined me while eating compulsively, for one hour nonstop. In this restaurant, you have to mark on the list what would you like them to bring next, and we marked down everything. Josh was too tired to enjoy, but I made sure I ate for both of us.  

All these little bowls with food, typical from Northeast Brazil.

Leticia was the one who got me into writing stories. When we were about 12/14, we used to write fanfics, about the backstreet boys and exchange notebooks with each other’s stories, and comment on, like real-life feedback. It was the coolest writing room experience ever. 

The restaurant is called Cafe do Alto, and its located in the Santa Teresa neighborhood.

I only have 7 close friends, but I made sure to see them all. 

At night, still drowsy by so much food in the morning, I went to meet the other set of people. I have about seven close friends, and I made sure to see all of them. Lilly is my school friend, known her for 20 years, but it feels like I know her from a previous life.

We don’t talk every day, but we are always here for each other. We sat by a table in the street, where there was a tent selling craft beers. The guys put some tap beers, with beers I believe he makes himself, and sell it for a cheaper price than the bars on the street. 

Out of nowhere, Lilly was laughing and I asked her why she said “The homeless guy that just passed by, look at Josh and said he was a gorgeous man. Emphasis on the gorgeous” Not that my husband is not gorgeous, but never in America, a homeless guy told him he was beautiful and didn’t even ask him for change. Josh felt precious and I mock him for the next hours.  

When in Rio, just go for it.

Soon after, Fabiano joined the group, and the nonsense starts. Gosh, I missed Rio! We started talking about Karaoke, so Fabiano gets up and decides to takes us to Karaoke. We were all asking but where? Where? And all he could say was “Follow me” Oh well, when in Rio, just go for it. 

We walked to the place he said the Karaoke was, we knock, and the security guy told us that they were not having Karaoke Saturdays, due to Corona and they didn’t want a crowd a place and get shut down. So we kept walking. Once again, on our way to having dinner at the mall, Fabiano suddenly stops and rings at someone’s door.

“What are you doing? Oh no, he is gonna get shot. Just keep walking, he will follow us.” A guy opens the door, gives Fabiano a big hug like they don’t see each other in months, and invite us all in. The house was a recording studio/bar. 

The guy brought us a table and some chairs and we bought some drinks. We got beers, Josh tried cachaca, the distilled liquor made from sugar cane juice and we listen to music in a borrowed Bluetooth sound system. Just us, in an empty garage, having a great time. Forget about Corona, forget about the life pains, forget all your troubles. All it matters is here and now. 

The night moved on to meet the same friend from the previous day, Renata, at Outback. Renata is also a friend for over 20 years, she was there for all the important moments of my life and I’m here anxious, waiting for the day we are finally going to Disney together to celebrate.

Outback in Brazil is fancy and upscale.

If you say you are having dinner at Outback it means you can afford some prestigious five-star dinner. When I tell this to Americans, they think I’m out of my mind, since Outback here is so random. 

I said goodbye to my friends, but I didn’t want them to leave. So they all decided to go to have dinner with us. What was planned for 3, now got a table for 8? It took us over an hour to have a table, but again, I didn’t care. I was enjoying the time I had with my friends. I didn’t have that impostor syndrome that is constant in the back of my head. 

Our flight was leaving for Vitoria early in the morning, so we couldn’t stay as much as we would like to. Again, saying goodbye had to be fast, otherwise, I would have just stayed. And I mean stayed, not coming back. It sounds reckless, but I didn’t have this feeling of belonging since I moved to the States in 2012. I miss the feeling of belonging somewhere. All I’ve been doing is pushing through it. Elections, pandemic, elections, vaccines, mask, job changes, online college, moving again. 

What’s next?

It’s not fun to live in a constant state of “what’s next?” Where nothing looks familiar and you have scattered friends.

Leaving Rio in a haze of emotions and decisions for the future. I had the best time and I will be looking into writing some scripts in Portuguese, once they are ready, I will try to find them a house. In Brazil. Because have some success where I was born and raised will have a completely different taste. 

To all my friends who made time to see me, Lilly, Pedro, Fabiano, Fran, Renata, Lele, Leo, Simone, Phillipe, Patricia, Pablo. You guys are the best.

See you soon, my friends! Stay Healthy and Stay Busy.





All I know so far. How P!nk remains a power house after 22 years, while embracing all the misfits.





I watched the new P!nk documentary on Amazon Prime “All I know so Far”. Is easy to see how she remained a powerhouse for the past 22 years. It’s ok to be different, you don’t have to fit in a box.

Yesterday I watched the new P!nk documentary on Amazon Prime “All I know so Far” and even though this is not a review, I’m going to say what it felt like for me, seeing a person that I have followed for the past 20 years, in her deepest fragility and strength P!nk is a powerhouse.

What makes her so great, I think, is the fact she sings for the raging souls, for the mischievous, the outcasts as she embraces everyone, making everyone feel like they are being heard.

The documentary shows her touring stadiums around all over the globe, while taking care of her family, also the relationship with the kids and husband, while managing to play in full arenas. I was awake almost at 1 AM, watching it without blinking. Again, P!nk is such an inspiration and her kids are adorable!

Love the documentary, love the album, love everything!

One of the most emotional moments, spoiler alert, was when she reads a letter from a UK fan, telling P!nk how important her music was and how she saved her life, during the most difficult moments. How her music and her attitude were always inspirational.

The girl also told in the letter she was being bullied at school and the only happy moments were when she arrived back home and put the VHS to watch something on MTV about P!nk. That’s when I started crying and thinking about my teenage years.

I want to be somebody else.

My teenage years were at the beginning of the 2000s. At the time, for role models we had Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, singing about a boy who drives them crazy for whatever reasons or singing “I’m not a girl, not yet a woman” in a gorgeous setting, with perfect hair, makeup, and body. In low-rise jeans. I wanted to be like them, so bad. I used to straighten my hair to the point of getting a headache in the morning. I thought that to be accepted, you had to be beautiful.

Living in Rio also burns you into being patronized. You must-have highlights, long hair, nails done, a big butt, and nice clothing. You have to look like the girls on TV. I had nothing of that. So when I was rejected by schoolmates, bullied over my hair or because I wore glasses, or because I was considered too chatty or “too crazy” for their standards, listening to Britney and Christina singing about boys, didn’t make me feel any good. That’s when I found out M!zunderstood, P!nk’s second album.

I’m not that complicated, I’m just misunderstood.

Even though I didn’t understand the lyrics just by listening at that point, I loved the melody and the waves of anger. P!nk was rock and roll, progressive, and ahead of her time from those other girls. She sang about the reality of most of us. She embraced all of us and sang about our broken pieces and our disappointments with life in general.

One particular song of that album, still ingrained in me, on to the deepest levels. If I listen to the first accords, I start crying. “Don’t let me get me” was a reflection of all my teenage years. I was a reject, an outsider, a stranger to myself. I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror. Nobody did. One particular night, on Valentine’s day, when my 13 years old cousin got a gift from a boy she had a crush on, I fell apart listening to this song. Why could nobody like me?

I was already 16 and nobody cared about me, much worse, there was absolutely nothing I could do to make someone like me. What was wrong with me? So I put on my boom box, turned off the living room lights, and stared outside my window. Cars passed and the songs of M!zunderstood cut me deep. So I realize P!nk would be the singer that would bring rough honesty to my life, singing about real problems we all go through and not some made-up shit about being pretty and boys making them wait.

Where I could run, as fast as I can, to the middle of nowhere

When she sang “Just like a pill” I felt like it would be great to run away from all my problems. At that point in my life, my mom was raising me, all by herself, in Rio, with 3 jobs. I used to talk to my dad on the phone every Sunday. Some Sundays he disappeared. He had depression and a drinking problem.

That forced me to grow up much faster than any of my friends, I had to be mature enough to understand why he was never there for me. He was living in a different state and 2002, communication was scattered, we didn’t have cell phones or internet.

Being bullied at school, talking to my dad every other Sunday, and having no perspective of the future, all I had was music and stories I’d write to escape from my reality. Fortunately, the time has passed, my face and my hair fell into line, but my attitude never changed. My essence is still the same. In 2012, when I met my now-husband, P!nk released a song that it felt was written based on my life, again.

No one else can break my heart like you

“True Love”, talks about the turbulences of being with someone you love, at the same time the person annoys the hell out of you. I told Josh, at that time, that this was going to be one of our songs. He didn’t understand, because the song has very sharp words towards a loved one. If he only saw me when I was a teenager, he would get it. Crying in the window while listening to P!nk, made me who I’m today. I’m so thankful for that.

If you are one of my seven readers and something doesn’t feel right in your life, please be patient. The universe always turns everything around. I never thought that when I was gonna have anyone special in my life, heck I never thought I’d have anything at all in my life, at some point.

That’s all I know so far

In my teens, I felt underappreciated and ugly. As time passed and everything got better. My mom says “There is nothing like one day, after another” or “The darkness of the night is here, so we can appreciate when the sunlight arrives”.

I don’t like toxic positivity, where everyone keeps telling you all will be alright if you just get over it, or work hard. I know it sucks but hang in there. It sucks for everyone, they just lie compulsively on social media for likes. P!nk told me that it was ok to be a chaotic mess in my most fragile moments.

I moved on. I’m happily married, to someone that loves me with all my quirkiness and loves my natural hair.

Do you have anyone in your life, like a singer or a writer, someone that inspires you, or help you get by? Please let me know in the comments who is this person in your life. As you can see, I rely heavily on creatives to help me to get over my issues.


Exit mobile version