It’s a sunny day outside and I am stuck inside my cosy apartment, with my laptop in my arms and trying to do some work. Es Sheeran is playing on the background of the screen with all of these problems that are waiting for me to solve and my mind wonders away to some unknown places.
Someone told me a long time ago that if you want to be a good writer you should write about your biggest fears and admit them through your story and your characters That you should make them do the things you never had the guts to do in your life so that you can find out something about yourself.
So I find myself wondering… if I make the people inside my book to fall in love and dream, that means I never had the courage to really love and dream? Or just the opposite, that the writer is afraid of love and of big dreams and is more comfortable to feel secure and never take any risks?
I am again over thinking and trying to torture my few neurons that survived these past years? Probably, but I guess all of us had at one point or another these ideas. Are we design to have inside of us two desires that are contradictory and to loose our mind trying to make them compromise or to choose the “right one” so that in the future we will not regret not choosing the other one.
Sometimes I wish that everything would be black and white, but then I remind myself that I love so much the grey and the colours that I start laughing of my silliness. I just wish I would find out what I want to do with my life, when I was little everything was so easy and I had a plan for the rest of my life, now I don’t. I realized that I don’t even know what I like any more, things that I loved 6 moths ago are boring for me now, or they don’t feel like being a part of me. People say I matured, I say I am just crazy. If this is what being mature is like, I really want to be a child for ever.