Fourteen years, two months, and eight days ago, I made a mistake. Like a lot of mistakes made at the age of 20 inside a college dorm room, it involved trusting a man I shouldn’t have, and it still affects me to this day. No, Mark Zuckerberg didn’t give me herpes.
I used to find enormous comfort translating Russian poetry. But no more. Even when I went back over my favorite, Karashnikov’s “Another Christmas of Agony”, it failed to soothe me. “Mischa the dog lies dead in the bog. The children cry over the carcass. The mist chokes my heart, covers the mourners. At least this year we eat.”
i have terrible social anxiety and find travel the easiest thing in the world. It feels like a cheat code. Like I have spent my whole life being scared and on edge of not understanding social situations I already have worked out every single angle on doing everything in a situation where I'm nervous and unable to talk to people and so on. So like, other people would be scared to go to a restaurant in china and try to order something in chinese. I am also scared of that, but since I am equally scared to go to a restaurant in my home country and order in english it just feels like a normal day. (but like everyone I know will rave about how cool I am if I eat some dumplings in china and no one will give me super big praise if I just go to arby's without crying or something)