Expectation makes me ill.
Life is fucking funny. I was anxious to begin my vacations, and always said “when the job is finish, it will be beach everyday!”. Yeah Right. Since the beginning of this week I didn’t go to the beach once. “why?” you might wonder. Well, I’m going to explain.
When I thought about going to the beach, never thought about HOW. It happens that I’m tired of rides, feeling dependent, needing people to do whatever it is. I can drive, the problem is my arm – I need to look many times to the right hand (gear handle) to assure that I have correctly shifted the gear or not, because I don’t have sufficient sensibility to realize that without looking.
If I had an automatic car, the problem was solved, but riding my “little bean” (a Renault Clio from ’95, working on gas) is old school, and even loving to ride difficult cars, lets face it – I don’t know if someday I’ll be able to ride it again. I believe I will, since two months ago not even my foot I could feel in the car (didn’t know where it was, as if I had a blind foot, and missed the pedals or got stuck beneath them) and now they behave almost as normal feet.
But the arm is weak and the deep sensibility it’s not on its best condition. The hand is the most complicated parts to recover, always been told about it.
The problem is that I don’t feel comfortable in always asking my parents to take me wherever it is. They already take me to the hospital everyday and I don’t feel like asking them to take me to this or that place. I live in Marinha, and everything that happens, exist outside Marinha Grande. And even existing here, I live in one far corner of the city, away from everything. Marinha always chocked me and now I am realizing why: someone who is not able of getting out of here is literally fucked.
There isn’t even an escape, people who live here, live for their work and when they desire culture they go to Leiria, even if it is dubious culture. Yes I am frustrated, because I am 22 years old, have driving license for 3 years, lived alone on my own for 3 years also, and now I feel like I have 16 again, anxious for the 18th anniversary to get out of here. This lack of satisfaction came in this city and it is thanks to it that I became an (pseudo) artist. Thank you, Marinha Grande!
(I took this photo in 2005, in my first year of faculty. My house is near the train station, only needed to cross a small empty terrain with a small factory. Wherever I looked I could only see factories. And barbwire… it was like I felt before I went to Caldas, and how I feel now. Stuck).
Expectation leaves me sick.
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