Dear Diary, So I decided to buy myself a beer — just a little something to help set the mood, you know? A chill vibe, some light inspiration. But guess what? The cashier looked at me, paused, and then asked for my ID. My actual passport. I mean… wow. Apparently, I still look fresh enough to be carded like a teenager. Honestly, that did more for my mood than the beer ever could.
Lunch of champions — beer and guacamole, right after the gym. What could possibly be better? Throw in some chips an heets as a snack and boom, perfect balance. I’m telling myself this is a well-rounded meal. I mean, I’ve already burned some calories, so it’s basically a reward at this point.
Fast forward a bit — now I’m sitting here: sleep-deprived, slightly tipsy, chain-smoking like an existential French poet, and trying to convince myself that now is the perfect time to work on some MEP for the project. Genius, right? Nothing like mixing beer, burnout, and building systems. Cheers to that!
And oh — I ended up texting him. Yup, I actually did it. Blame the beer, blame the sleep deprivation, blame my hopelessly romantic inner monologue. Was it a good idea? Who knows. But at this point, I’m already halfway into the chaos, so why not add a little emotional gamble to the mix?
I’m contradicting myself again — classic move. I didn’t want to text him, but here I am, doing exactly that. It’s like I set my own rules and then immediately break them. One minute, I’m all ‘I don’t need to do this,’ and the next, I’m sending a message. But hey, who needs consistency when you’ve got spontaneity and a glass of beer to make it all feel like a good idea, right?
Funny how I end up asking myself if I’m doing the right thing… while completely ignoring the voice of reason and just going full chaos mode. Like, am I making a mistake? Probably. Am I going to stop? Absolutely not.