About stress, and working a full-time job, falling in love with the process and never looking back.

Having a mental breakdown while at the office calls for uncomfortable questions from your co-workers, and the imminent consequences that keep on following you in your every step. 

I miss the simplicity of being nineteen years old and believing in a future where I planned and sketched my dream life and things just sorta happened right in front of my eyes. Growing old has become more and more of a duty to remain boring and lessen my colorful nature to ensure that I fit, that I get used to being the person I wholeheartedly tried to become years ago. 

Mental breakdowns sound like a scary thing to have, but truth be told, I enjoy going through them from time to time. They remind me about the nice things in life, and the joy I experience when I think about them. They remind me that feelings are much more complex than what I'd like to admit, and as much as it's relevant to encourage the art of conversation and making good questions, I am thrilled to know now that there are less answers as there are questions. There will never be enough answers for all the questions that are out there. There will always be a lot of questions left unanswered. There's not enough time in the world to do evrything we have to do.

Let go of the feeling and the pressure to do everything, to attain all goals, to be everywhere. Let yourself get lost in the unknown. Work and breathe and eat and hike and draw and read and hide behind the tree barks laying in the ground.

Let go.

Let go of everything. Be proud of your mental breakdowns, own them, own your cries for help, own your attempts to change the direction, and accept the failures as one more step in the ladder of life where there are not backward or forward choices.

Let go of expectations, let go of ideals, let go of the pressure to be perfect. You don't have to make sense because you already do.

Shit, this sounds like hippie trash talk but I truly do wish to get this motto perceptualized on my chest.