Home away from home

As I was going through my blog as some sort of stalker of my own self, I realised that this chapter doesn’t have to be over – I want to continue writting.

I used to love writting here as it was a safe spot where I could talk about my adventures that one day I would be able to look back on. Know where my mind was that day and take me back to when my life was exciting and full of surprises.

I have moved from England to Portugal in August 2020, after I saw that COVID wasn’t just going to be a cute little cold. I wanted to be with my family and I am not regretful.

However, since the move things have been shaky. I mean, my life changed completely. I went from a promissing young PR/marketing student to working in a shoe retailer at minimum wage 6 hours per day.

Routine settled in and it seems as though I didn’t really have a choice. It’s been frustrating to say the least.

Looking back everyday eventful and exciting, from meeting with clients, meeting new people, talking in English everyday, having my independence straight, studying something I loved, working to sustain myself. Now I am in my parents house, working at the mall, cleaning my baby rabbit everyday and sending applications that never get an answer back.

It took a full 180º and what is even more frustrating is that most people don’t understand my frustration. And why would they? What I’m frustrated about has been their routine all their life. This is not my life.

I am cut out for more. For something far greater. And I believe that with every cell in my body. I am fierce, I am a hard worker and I’m going to achieve it even if I’ve been only falling and falling again while trying to do it for the past three years. I believe in myself.

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