i know it has been quite a while since last time. so much shit has happened that none of you had a single idea. i am very aware that i should be here more often. not because i need the numbers, but sure because i need that peace when i see my thoughts straighten and in order, finally silenced and appeased, but never repressed.
i know. some time ago. 2020. argh. a fucked year. i freaked out. but who didn’t? i guess everyone had gone crazy at some point in the pandemic. each one in their own. but i freaked out in a bad way. one oversight and suddenly my bed was the only refuge i could get to. old friend. good fucking partner.
but i’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness and solitude. the slight difference between the two things. i always thought i was holding one’s hand, very sure that it was enough. and i understood that i had the maturity not to hold anyone’s hand. or that i could safely choose between the two.
i just chose to hold another hand in the end. and it cost me all my inspiration and writing ability. something that always came to me very easily, has now basically disappeared from within me.
maybe this is another weapon of depression.
and now, in this outburst, i find myself almost suffocated, all because i can no longer do what i love most in life, which is thinking and writing.
about everything 