Six days ago, I came back to my home university campus. The last time I was there was seven months ago: it was still winter, and the trees were completely empty. Sitting on the grass was not a possibility, and I was probably wearing 3 layers of clothes. I was a different person seven months ago. I wasn’t sure how the new Sammy was going to react after everything I’ve been through (lots of things that I will tell later on, I guess).
I have had at least five blogs in the last five years. It’s hard to keep a blog running; I always get tired, annoyed, or just too lazy to actually make it work. And then I reach the point in which this doesn’t make sense anymore, in which I can’t even remember why I started it in the first place. Even though blogs do have a purpose (most of the time at least), I simply lose interest in them. I feel that’s more or less what happens with everything I try in life. I used to think that was the way I was: just someone who can’t find something in which to be consistent, someone who still can’t find that specific thing that motivates you enough to keep it, to work on it, to polish it. I don’t think like that anymore. I think I was (and partially still am) an extremely lazy, weak person, someone who isn’t brave enough to really try, to actually care, or to fight for something. Every time something goes wrong, or it takes a lot of time, I give up. It just happens. I simply stop doing it.