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Guadalajara is exchanged for a shabby hotel room in Ciudad de México.
Eyes open. A wave of nausea engulfs me. Phantom feet kick against my head repetitively. I stretch my overly tensed neck and shoulder muscles and greet the ceiling. I ignore my cellphone and the devil shouting in my mind to prevent myself from wasting away my day.
A quick shower and a coffee from the street vendor around the corner to come alive. I look around: sun, clouds and what not. Great, the earth is still spinning, so I return to my four walled world.
Curtains closed, earplugs in. On the nightstand a jar of peanut butter, a pack of crackers, an apple and three bottles of water. A self proclaimed writer’s survival kit.
The keys are thrown away. I locked myself up to open up the creativity. Sentenced to write sentences. If I don’t make sense at least I’ll make a sentence.
The staring competition with my notebook commences. Let’s see what folds first: the emptiness of the pages or my dedication.
As hours pass by the one that was destined to lose gets filled up with ink. Writing until the ladder I visualise turns into reality. I could care less about the sky, I’ll keep on climbing until I can touch the stars. And if it all falls down half way through at least I’ll have my head in the clouds.
You see, I can’t and won’t go back to what it once was. A quick visit to my loved ones at most. I am not made for mediocrity and I despise my former life. The future is drenched in black once the money runs out, so I have to make sure it doesn’t. Time on my hands, the world on my shoulders.
Days of living like a literary recluse in Ciudad de México pass by and I succumb to the craving for fresh air.
The city is enjoyable as always. Museums, parks, history, present, future. The city has it all, yet this empty room in the city I like doesn’t beat the social circle in the city I don’t care for.
After a few days I realise I made the wrong choice, but further contemplating gets cut short by the answer shaped in the form of a Latina. My friend from the previous city comes over to visit.
Three days together and the offer for a week free stay in her city can’t be declined and so we fly back to the city I thought I’d never return to.
This four walled world in Guadalajara appeals to me more than the previous one.
I spend one more week in Guadalajara and then decide to leave. Tears are shed, flights are caught. I arrive in Yucatan’s Mérida, take another flight and leave Mexico.
Late at night I land. It’s warm and darkness hides my newest destination. I make my way through customs, arrive in my temporary bedroom and lay down on my bed, wanting to fall asleep immediately. Eager to wake up in this country I didn’t think I’d get to see.
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