Hello!
Oh, my biological clock is totally confused. I'm still living in Peru-time, can't sleep at night and I'm hardly able to get up before 03.00 in the afternoon. I do have to say, I miss the whole thing, the being together with the group, doing nice things and have fun. Of course, it's heavenly to always have hot water, always being able to shower, or to use the toilet, and to sleep in a bed every night.
But still.. life here is so different. My world, and the world I've experienced there, they're two completely different worlds.
But I guess I'll get used to my own life again. I started working again yesterday, and by the end of the summerbreak, I will be nearly rich! (honestly, it's not a nice job, but it pays very well, and that counts for something)
What am I going to buy...
Hm, I want some designer-sunglasses, and spotted a lovely pair from Chanel. I could buy that. Or a flatscreen for my new room. Or a new iPod. A short trip to Paris. Lots of clothes. Louboutin-heels. New Prada-heels. Every single book I want to read, every movie I want to see. Or save a little more and buy a Chanel bag! Or a Vespa!
Or... just save it, just in case of? Yuk, that sounds boring. But... smart, somehow.
I think I'll make a list and choose the best thing. You'll hear about it!
Sometimes I really wish my dad was rich as hell and I could get everything I wanted. But then again, I see what I would have become: A spoiled, bitchy brat.
And having seen the way people have to live over there, in Ayacucho, it was heartbreaking. It wasn't human, not normal, for people like us. I mean, just look at the child in the picture. It's breaking my heart, it really is.
And then, how friendly these people were, offering us things they could hardly afford, and being so thankful for nearly nothing, I felt awful for having the guts to complain about my life.
You know, everyone always says: 'You don't know how much you have, there are people who have nearly nothing and they don't complain.'
And then you say: 'Yes I know,' but after 5 minutes, you've forgotten again.
And I swear, on the ashes of my dead grandparents, on my Prada-shoes, on my life, even, that if I will ever forget that, I will call a psychiatrist.
Because I did know it, of course, but now I've
seen it, and now I know what it's like.
Maybe that's what you should do when you feel pathetic, or are whining about nothing: Go there, go to that developement country, visit the people who live there, help them cleaning their houses, and then tell me that you have such a hard life.
You know, in the end, all that matters, is keeping the good memories, keeping in your mind what is important, and letting go of your troubles, the bad things.
What way would be better to remember it than reading the written words, seeing the taken pictures, the painted images, and then trying to remember what it felt like?
And, like always, there is one thing we should never forget about, and it's called
LOVE.
It's all in you, you've got it, I know it ;-)
With love,
Kirsten