life is kinda dull right now

and that’s ok, I guess?

it’s friday night, and I’m eating pizza alone, spread out on the couch with my dog, watching Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time. the weather is still nice outside, chilly but not crazy-cold like it gets here in Montreal - translation: warm enough to be out doing stuff.

which I’m not.

doing stuff, that is.

I wish I could tell you that’s a one-time occurrence. only it isn’t. I’ve been here before. last week. and the week before that. and another. and throw in some saturdays. a few sundays. maybe an ordinary wednesday. switch Pride and Prejudice with a How I Met Your Mother or Brooklyn Nine-Nine marathon, or a re-watch of You’ve Got Mail or Love, Rosie, and you have my weekly schedule pretty figured out.

I sigh. I’m tired of this as much as I’m willing to do something else entirely. should I do it alone? why would I do it alone? and what is there to do in this super vibrant and lively city I moved into two years ago?

most of all, why is it so hard to find someone to it with?

I feel scared and bored and out-of-my-mind lonely all the time, and yet… I’ve been hardly trying to do anything different.

listen, I get it. ‘you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself’, and trust me, I’m really trying here. and I would also give myself a break on this if I knew it was just a phase.

which is not.

I’ve been here a while. a long while. a really really really long while.

by the time crisis-mode settles in my chest, the movie has ended, and the credits are rolling up the screen. I’ve barely seen it, barely tasted my pizza and barely gave attention to my dog, that’s now sleeping soundly in the coat closet (he loves it there for some unknown reason).

and I look around, at my barely decorated flat, and it hits me that, yes, something is terribly wrong and this isn’t just momentary. I’ve lost the sparkle, that thing that makes us feel alive, that little fire I had as a kid while drawing anime characters in my sketchbook.

it’s just… gone. and I never noticed it leaving.

I get up, prepare myself for bed. do the same skincare routine I’ve been doing for the last five or so years. wash the remaining dishes left in the sink, throw away the pizza box (that I finished, again, by myself), put on my pyjamas (they’re so old it’s not even funny any more) and go to bed.

the last thought that goes through my head before falling asleep is the same as yesterday, and the day before.

‘my life is kind of… meh.’

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don't get me wrong, I've had some pretty incredible moments. growing up as middle class in downtown São Paulo, Brazil, had its perks. I travelled a lot with my parents, studied in good schools, was privileged enough to go to a private college to learn about the craft I loved since I was a kid, did two exchange programs, shared flats with friends, read more books than I can count, moved to Canada a couple of years ago…

and yet… meh.

I swear, I don't want to sound ungrateful. on the contrary, my morning walks with my dog are full of ‘I'm grateful for’ affirmations I try my best to mean. it's my version of the famous ‘hot girl walk’ (do we still call them that?) at 5.30 am, while it’s still super dark outside and the city feels like a post-apocalyptic scenario that I try not to imagine too much.

but over the years I feel like… something got lost in translation, you know? I missed the ‘adventure’ gene and somehow got stuck in a loop in which my days all look the same and I can't get off this damn roundabout. I just keep going round and round and when I think I got out, there's that annoying song again and the plastic horses are laughing at me.

my therapist will most definitely have an answer to why that is on the tip of her tongue: trauma. and, yes, I agree, and I see what she means when we speak about the bland and lonely childhood I lived through, but I still feel there's a ‘me’ aspect of the equation I can't seem to figure out.

so here I am.

my life feels like a series of ‘mehs’ and ‘shrugs’ and ‘good enoughs’ I'm so tired of I could scream.

(my self-deprecating side suspects no one would hear.)

and it's been lonely. and tiresome. but mostly lonely. I see my friends with their significant others and feel like crying, ‘cause I just want to get home and find someone to hug.

my dog never likes it when I try to do it to him.

so, something needs to change, even if I do it out of spite other than the happiness and gratefulness I know live somewhere deep within me. and this newsletter, I guess, is me looking for accountability.

it's also me trying to take my writing seriously and looking for a way to find the joy of writing and sharing once again. I remember, you know. that spark of happiness of opening a journal for the first time and being able to put to words the angst I already felt as a child.

then doing the same years later on my first blog, a way too colourful page with sparkles and gifs (though we didn't call it that back then) and posts long enough to be full-on essays about what happened at school that day.

the art of sharing and knowing that somehow, somewhere, someone was reading.

and maybe going through the same thing.

I have ideas for this space. and I swear I'm trying really hard not to go down the lets-grow-to-a-million-subscribers rabbit hole, although it's hard. I've been trying for many (many) years to ‘make it online’ (whatever that means).

and, maybe, having that spark from decades ago is what I need to actually believe I can.

here, I hope to share:

• the ups and downs of creating a life I love

• everything I know and learned about writing over the years (and how it helped me)

• how to have a more creative and intentional routine - we’ll learn this together, I’m afraid

• and, hopefully, some good vibes so we can nurture some sort of optimism in these dark days we're living

I’ll try my best to be myself. it won't be easy, I'll say that now. I've been hiding from everyone (and myself) for a long time. and I'm not sure if I know who she (I?) is (am?) exactly. I'm just finding that out, too.

still. you have my word that I'll try.

all I ask is that you hold my hand along the way.

(if you feel like it, of course!)

so, here's to new beginnings, bumpy rides and, hopefully, some sort of happy ending.

I'll see you next week.

take care,

maki.

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