CW48: better not let them hear my voice

[this post contains edits. If you have received it before, you may find additional thoughts in here]

The week coming to an end has been very challenging. In the last three months I have been through a major life change, moving countries, and I keep second guessing myself. A very good friend from my previous life came to visit, and the joy it brought me was as huge as the nostalgia that hit me in the days after. But then I remembered I am only 25, no choice is a death sentence yet and a place is just a place as long as I try to make the most of it.

(In case you were wondering, yes my period is almost over so I no longer feel the most depressed a girl could ever been)

Day 1: working from home slay! I was alone for the first time since we moved while my two companions were out exploring. I enjoyed that deeply. This was my friend’s last day here, so we brought her to an all you can at sushi restaurant where we actually remembered to be mindful of how much we ate.

I found out there was a march I would have like to attend the day before, but I realised it is hard to discover social movements when you are not active on social media in 2023. I must be more purposeful with my time spent with media.

Day 2: I had a driving lesson I was too stressed out for, it being the days before my period. I broke down crying and we had to pull aside. My instructor asked me how I survived 7 years alone abroad, and I replied that I survived by crying while trying anyways.

Day 3: I had another driving lesson, and my instructor - the same one as always, in case you were wondering - went on a 40 minutes long racist rant, which I kept trying to argue against but he did start the monologue by saying “I am racist”, so no use pointing that out. At this point in the week I started questioning my life choices.

Day 4: the chanel emo outfit required a 2000s angle. I got a hint that my despair was far from over when at 8:20 am my coworker used as slur so nonchalantly in her conversation that I almost didn’t believe it, but then I remembered what part of the country I am in. About one hour later my other coworker asked me all concerned if it was true that people from Naples were all like they see on the reality show, as loud and exravagant as they are on TV. This reminded me of when - earlier this week - my two bosses made fun of my accent and said me and my other southern coworker were so fun to listen to, that they could hear the mandolin in their ears. In case you were wondering, yes we have all been part of the same country since 1861.

I cried all evening about missing my old home, where I was as strange as anybody else.

Day 5: after a conversation with my boyfriend, I felt a bit less desperate. I thought of young me, in this country, so eager to be a buzzkill and set the record straight. I am in a workplace now, a workplace that will protect my coworkers, so I am still debating what I should do when I find myself in situations like the ones I was in this week.

Any suggestions are welcome.

In the evening, we watched the new Hunger Games at the cinema. It was good and it asked important questions such as: what if the evil murderous dictator was an Abercrombie & Fitch model?

Thought of the week: I should be curious about the things that make me uncomfortable.