The annoying noise of the works of the neighbors has awakened me even today. I put my head on the pillow, and I tried to sleep for another twenty minutes, but there was no one to shut that drill down. I woke up and looked at the table of duties that I did at the beginning of April; that’s what the pink and yellow markers said: every two days, a half theme; once a week, leave a type of practical exercises dominated; every day, a review of the previous day. It's over now. I looked at the calendar next to the door: the fifth of May. Ha-ha. Ha-ha. I felt something very strong from the chest to the throat and I thought it was a need for coffee, not to admit it was anxiety. I sit on the couch with the cutest cup in the closet in one hand and the phone in the other, my thumb up and down.

The alarm rang at eleven o’clock, “Start learning,” he said. It's about Posponer.

I sit at the desk so that no one can accuse me of laziness; so that I don’t hear, once again, “the days go by and I see you too relaxed.” These words have made me even more angry this last month, I don’t know; they have created me even more impotence than in others. I wonder why. Maybe because they're telling the truth? I'm talking about Ejem. Point, intro and goodbye.

Every time I look at the agendas and the papers on the nightstand and remember what I should do – and therefore what I will need – my eye trembles and I get angry with myself because for another week I haven’t managed to make time for all the tasks. The breath also catches me a little later with a rhythm similar to the eye, and at that moment I begin to believe that I am the one who, perhaps, has not dedicated time –to all these tasks–, so I get even more angry with myself and I write to that friend that I haven’t been to for a long time to have a coffee after lunch.

Today we have also stayed for that “strengthening” coffee after lunch and today we have decided that the subject of the studies will be taboo, since the conclusion is that we always do not have time and it is not our fault. This, especially the latter: that it is not our fault; that we do not know who it belongs to, but at least not ours.

And, of course, today we have also turned the coffee after lunch into an afternoon infusion, and the afternoon infusion into a Cola Cao at night. I opened the computer when I got home; and just as I was going to enter the Drive notes folder, I failed the mouse and ended up on Netflix. “Benga, tomorrow, yes. I mean, really. “Tomorrow,” I said.

But my eye trembles again, and trying to believe that it will be because of the screen, I decided to go to sleep.

The alarm. The alarm. 7:30. Benga, tomorrow at the top.