This is a warning from the future:
I spent all this month in my native city: me dejé reposar al sereno, a ver si me arreglaba. I didn't.
Turns out, I warn you, more things are about to begin, and to get worse. I do mean it.
You'll hit rock bottom one day in crying in your room. By the time you write this paragraph, you'll still be angry about something you realized a day ago. Sigh.