Its probably silly to feel obligated to write something at this day. Oh well, no harm in doing it anyway.

I can’t help but to think of those drafts, including the deleted ones, which I don’t have any intention to published them. Those drafts are the silent persona, for things I can’t just throw away.

One should looks forward, but instead we look down. Pretending to be content about the present, because that is what everyone else does. Isn’t it?
I, myself, always find it hard to enjoying something that most people think is fun. But society is a cruel dictator that ordered us to smile and laugh at times to maintaining peace.

One should not looks back, but in truth we never stop putting things in the bottomless drawer. And carefully keep the lock to be always in reach.

Once upon a time, there is this door of possibility. One of many. But this one special. It should be, because I keep find myself in front of it.
I used to think that I have the key for that door. Now I’m not sure anymore.
It’s baffling if I think how many years I’ve spent knocking that door. The silent reply should be a clear enough answer. But, I’m just a fool.
But then the reasons started to fade away, and I’m suddenly tired. And that’s that. Well, if only it stayed that way…
A moment of weakness, and here I am knocking the door once again.

Stuck in a meaningless routine, one seeks out for changes. And one opportunity came up. Definetely the opposite of comfort zone, but I have to for the sake my sanity and ego.
Of course it’s not easy. And these past weeks really exhaust me mentally. So… Uhm, I don’t know what say anymore about this actually.

There is this question, whose answer  would shift my world into a different lane. Something I sought after for a long time.
Then the time comes when it could happens in the near future. That’s when I realised I’ve been driving blind.
But, one at a time shall we?

There is this story I’ve read somewhere, about two prisoners in cells, separated by a solid but thin wall. Day by day they talk through the wall about their dreams and different world. About the different view they see from the small window of their cells. And one day, some day, one is released from the prison.

How much people can change without realising it? Years gone by, and suddenly there is this stranger in the other side of the mirror.
I want to believe that the good me is always there. But, hey, who am I kidding?
What’s amusing is that when someone think that I’m somewhat better, than what I think I deserved. I must be wearing some convincing masks all this time

der Lebenslangeschicksalsschatz?
der Beinaheleidenschaftsgegenstand?