That sinking feeling

Do you know that awful, sinking feeling that you get in the pit of your stomach sometimes?

Like when you take a test that you spent the past week preparing for and find that you just wasted tedious hours studying the wrong material?

Like the first few seconds when you find out that your best friend has jusr stabbed you right in the back?

Like when somebody tells you how disappointed they are in you?

Like when you say something about someone (not necessarily gossip, but something you'd rather the whole world didn't know just yet) and they find out?

Can you picture that feeling?



I have developed a close friendship with Pablers.
Come to think of it, we've always been strong friends.
Lately though, our conversations have gone on a little longer though about important things.
He's that person I feel comfortable in my own skin with.
In fact, the other night we spent a good two-hour long emotional-crying session.
We were sitting on the steps to our apartment building when Iván and his friends filled the sidewalk in front of us. Pablers went to talk to the gente, but Iván leaned against the wall and talked to me about the American movie they were on their way to see.
A pretty little flash of a white smile, and then he was gone.
Nothing new there.
But then when he left, good old Pablers told me something.

He let me know that Iván reads my blog.
I had a feeling that would happen.

You know that sinking feeling I was just describing?
You'd think that this would be the mother of all sinking feelings.
But it's not.
I'm feeling rather indifferent.
I'm not violently regretting any of my words.
It's sufficient to say that I'm not preoccupied.
I'm not worried.
I just don't really care.

I can't really figure out why.
Maybe because it feels so much that I'm just living in an adventurous book?
Maybe I'm okay with being a tad bit crazy for the sake of a more interesting life?

Let the story continue, for the sake of the adventure and for the blog.

Either or, the only sinking feeling I am receiving now is only when I remember that I only have 8 days remaining here.

8 days.

And I still haven't figured out what to get Pedro for Christmas.


Christmas Eve is tomorrow!
It certainly doesn't feel like it, and it is certainly one of the last things on my mind.
My sister is singing Christmas carols for all of Porriño tomorrow with her church, and everyone is going to watch.
Pablo said I should talk to Iván about my sentimientos, but I'd rather not face the situation because it doesn't seem worth the stress for just 8 days remaining.
Maybe it is.
Probably not, though.
Then, there is a big family dinner for "la noche buena" (Christmas Eve).
They celebrate Christmas Eve significantly more that Christmas itself.

I am utterly behind on sleep and exhausted, but tomorrow is an exciting day.
Chao, readers.