I started working again. My gray vacation is over, though in the end it left me with a good taste since some things happened just yesterday, and no, it’s not that Spain became world champion.
Well then, getting up today to work felt strange. I got out of bed without trouble and took my little dog for a short walk. Once back home, I got ready so slowly that I almost missed the time to leave. That’s when I realized I wasn’t feeling well.
My mind is not willing to return to work. I told my mother, and she gave me just the advice I needed. I took it in a good way and told myself I only had to fulfill my duty there, so I finally set off with a little more spirit. Everything went fine on the transport, but as soon as I had that massive hospital in front of me, I felt the drop again.
What is this? I don’t usually get depressed so easily. Even though my vacations aren’t even standard, I’d much rather stay like that, like a dead jellyfish in the sea—which is saying a lot. But no, I think it’s better to take advantage of those upcoming vacations to put together something interesting.
I have an uncle abroad who lent me a small sum of money to start a little business. It won’t be the end of my problems—probably the beginning of many more—but I love selling, so at least I’ll be a living jellyfish fighting to evolve into a Pokemon Jellyfish.
At this point, as I write, I already feel a little better. Writing sets you free. What I’m saying may sound superficial, but at least it’s working for me. Writing, building a business, and working at the hospital only for the time I’m assigned. Yes, that seems like a good plan for me. No need to overthink. Jellyfish don’t have brains.
English isn't my native language. Text translated with DeepL
