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Not a very good mood

I’ve been feeling a little depressed last days. Don’t know if it’s happening because I’m not happy in going back to work in a place I don’t like anymore, or because I’m feeling a bit lonely. When it happens a repressed desire of running away comes back. I know it’s such a teenage thing, but I’ve this feeling sometimes, specially when I’m on my Morrisey wannabe days (yeah, heaven knows I’m a miserable now). When this desire comes I always think of traveling – it’d be great to live one year or two in another coutry, I’m quite sure my troubles (real or imaginary ones) wouldn’t follow me to this new place. A friend traveled some time ago to Spain and loved that, maybe I could live there. Maybe I should try Italy. New place, new people, maybe I could find a nice guy among them. Anyway it’d be good change my scenery. Hum, when I start thinking about it I remember I’ve barely enough money to live through the month, and these traveling desire goes away – and I feel more depressed. Sigh.
So instead of thinking how I could spend money I don’t have at all I discarded a huge part of my college days. It was a great experience, I felt myself lighter after that. It’s unbelievable how many texts I’d to read during those years. It’s unbelievable how I barely remember them today. It’s unbelievable how many subjects I studied during that time are useless. All right, I shouldn’t be complaining this way, I was lucky enough to study at a public college, I didn’t have to pay for that. But it’s sad to think I spent some precious years studing subjects that I’ve no use today. The worst of all: back then I’d this sensation, I was wasting my time, why not looking for something more appealing to me? Anyway there were nice people and some nice professors, so it wasn’t a total waste of time.
Well, my building’s dustbin received 8 bags full of tests, papers, texts and similar things. Among them I found many papers I wrote as a man... I explain: there’s this friend of mine, Bruno, a lovely guy. He was working since the very beggining of college years, and frequently he didn’t have enough time to write his papers or even go to the classes. We were close friends, so I did what I had to: faked his signature almost all time and wrote many papers for him. There were many people on most of classes, so none of the professors used to check who was really at classrooms. The papers... well, most part of time I copied parts of old books, trying to make some sense and including few new ideas in the result. The worst of all: it wasn’t rare "his" papers got better grades than mine - and I really used my grey matter to write my papers, can you believe that? I was his special guest during his graduation party (I’d graduated one year before him), and we’re still friends.