Are we simply a bunch of lab rats reacting to our surroundings?

I hope we could burn Instagram to the ground, at least wish I could. It had been almost a whole week without checking IG, and I made the decision of abstaining because "Hello, my name is Maria and I'm addicted to information" anyways, I had a very rough couple of weeks and I just knew I couldn't make it harder for myself so I just stopped, cold turkey spending time at IG and for that matter on my pc. Today as I finished my And just like That... episode I said to myself, I'll have a quick look. As soon as I stepped in my guts started to act up and I immediately wanted to cry, not a minute went by, I closed the tab. But now I feel drained, I don't even know why I follow certain people. Are we simply a bunch of lab rats reacting to our surroundings? I had to pour all my thoughts about that little encounter with the matrix so I could let it go and never go into that place again. 

This week has been better, I have felt much better about myself, and about my life, I have a job interview today that I'm deeply happy about and I am certain I will get the job. I have found peace of mind, and I've been able to connect with my surroundings and have a relationship with God. I'm in a place where I recognize myself and at the same time get to know a new part of me. I like it. Yet, the funniest thing has been happening I get this weird feeling in my chest, I cannot place or name the feeling I can only tell that it comes from my chest, it's neither good nor bad, but it is kind of sad, I guess it could be certain sadness. I am a person that can fall easily into sadness and I try not to but that's just how it is. 

A great friend ended her friendship with me over a letter, I found it romantic. To be honest, I thought she was just going to stop talking to me which made me mad, that's why I childishly asked her for some items I had in her place, but in the bag among my belongings was a letter explaining that she simply had changed and that meant she wanted something different for her life. I cried smoking a cigarette she had put in there as well, I cried in a local shop drinking beer and wondering what did I do wrong... as days have gone by I have stopped beating myself to the punch and simply take it as it was: a loss that thankfully was done in a romantic way that I could write about and move on...But really I can't move on, I feel like Frances in that Noah Baumbach film (Frances Ha) when her best friend stops being her best friend and she feels like a lost puppy, I feel like a lost puppy too; My uncle says I should do something about it but how can I? I'm just a lost puppy with a box filled with stones.

As bitter as this entrance is and sounds I'm getting better at picking myself up, at being there for myself, being my own best friend, I'm getting better at identifying what causes me pain or bothers me and I talk about it in all honesty with myself with no judgment, with sweetness and kindness, that is who I am at heart, not sad or melancholic just sweet, graceful and kind. 

Editorial note: I've been reading Norwegian wood by this Murakami guy, It's been peaceful. It's not a particularly great book, but it gives me a sense of stillness that I really appreciate right now in my life. I don't necessarily recommend it unless you like to read and are looking for an easy comfortable read...On the other hand, I am reading A Spy in the House of Love by Anaïs Ninn, and may I say holy shit... she writes about love, about one's role as a lover with such poetry that it makes my knees go weak, such pureness of heart, she writes about how lovely and also draining it is to a woman to be the perfect lover, not in a pretend way, just in the way that the man a woman chooses to love molds her into the perfect lover out of pureness...

El Retiro, Antioquia.