I suck at making titles

Today I went to a kind of job. A funny one, I’d should say. I just had to inflate balloons. A lot of balloons. But people, that was so much fun (no, I didn’t need to use my lungs if you’re wondering).

At some point of the afternoon, the suddenly thought about the thing called “future” came to my mind. It’s not weird; I actually think a lot about the future, almost every day. And today I thought about what I’ll be doing in seven years: probably not inflating balloons.

But where.

With who.

The people I treassure, will be still there?

Am I going to be still there/here?

I know millions of people have wondered the same thing through thousand years and they probably came to the same old conclusion about the futile effort of thinking about what you’ll never know until the correct time comes. However, I felt sad. Really sad. Because I’d like to stay on my 20 for ever. I don’t want to grow up or get all those adult-life responsabilities. I can’t even see myself as a doctor, atending people everyday, working hours and hours to get money to pay factures to keep living with certain comfort.

But I know, I really know, that everything can changes; that nothing is certain (maybe I’ll never get graduated; maybe I’ll die tomorrow, I’ll lost interest, I’ll be happy, etc). So meanwhile I want to do the things I like or just… do something. Else. Whatever that makes me feel useful and satisfied. And there’re a lot of thing I want to do. I just need time.

More time.

But since time waits for no one, I’ve decided to write the first entry of this blog today. My head hurts. I’m tired. I’d should make this in another day. Tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. Don’t now, but if I don’t start something, ┬áthere’re will be a lot of things that won’t be happening.

See, this’s what happens when you inflate balloons. If you think about that, the future is like a balloon too.

Just kidding (I suck at making jokes too).

Crita