Thoughts about writing

I haven’t posted anything on here in months. I never post regularly because I like to write when I feel like it and when I have time. I don’t want to force or pressure myself, especially because my studies have to come first. But in the end, this blog always ends up being neglected. Sometimes for a really long time.

I just got an email notification from a fan fiction website where I once posted one or two chapters on a series I used to watch about five years ago. The email said that someone subscribed to it and reviewed it. I have no clue how they managed to come across this insignificant little story in the huge vortex of texts on this platform, but they did, and they took the time to leave me a message, which I highly appreciate.

To sum it up, the review said that the person really liked the story and that it was sad that I never finished it. They said that they subscribed in the hope that I would come back to continue what I’ve started. I was very moved by this post. I had only posted a little something and to me, it was nothing special. In addition, my English was even worse back then than it is not (so pretty horrible  :D ).

I won’t finish that story because it has been too long and I stopped watching said series a long time ago, but it just made me think about my writing. Should I force myself more? Force myself to take the time to write regularly and make conscious decisions about when to sit down and write? I always say that I write for myself, but if that is the case then why do I upload my texts? I also wonder why I haven’t felt the urge to write in a few months. Was I just too busy, or did I just feel like there was nothing to write about? Sometimes I’m scared I’ll eventually just run out of ideas all together. That’s scary because on here I usually post mostly thoughts that are on my mind, so did I get less thoughtful recently?

This also ties in with a topic that I touched on in an earlier post, which is the fact that I feel a stronger need to write when something upsets or bothers me. I have been really happy and content lately, which is great, but does this prove that I cannot write when I’m balanced? Does this mean that discontent fuels my writing? Another scary, concerning thought.

I don’t know, I guess I’ll just wait and see what happens and observe how I feel about writing. Maybe I’ll try to make some more time for it in order to sit down like now and just type down my thoughts and then go from there.

There’s not really a point to this text. Just some very open thoughts and reflections that are nowhere near to coming to a conclusion. So this text won’t have a conclusion either, but if you want to add your thoughts to the picture you’re more than welcome to.


All the best


Late at Night

Being up late at night, reading a book or just listening to some music while looking at the stars is so comforting. There’s something calming about knowing that most people are asleep. It’s a peaceful silence. It is freeing because there’s no one to judge you. You don’t have to explain what you are doing and why, you don’t have to pretend, and you won’t be compared to anyone. You don’t have to live up to any expectations. Nobody has to know, and nobody cares. That’s nice. Of course it’s important to have people who care about you, but sometimes you just need to be by yourself, without having to worry about people or calm people who worry about you. Nighttime seems to be a good time for that. Just a few hours to be completely free. Sometimes bad feelings and anxiety can start haunting you in those moments of solitude, but if you manage to switch them all off it can turn into a feeling of satisfaction and contentment. Whenever I feel squished by life I try to remember that feeling and it always helps me to calm down.

Sometimes it helps to go back to simply existing before tackling everything else in our lives.



Life is full of surprises
I guess…

Sometimes you work hard on a plan
And do what you can to stick to it
But then some tiny little component changes

Maybe it was your fault, maybe someone else’s
Does it matter?
Well yes, kind of…
It makes you either angry at yourself or at someone else
Is one better than the other?
Probably not.

At first sight, being mad at someone else might seem easier
Then again, it is so unfair if another person can just crash your plans…
On the other hand, if something happens
Will you ever be able not to blame yourself at all?

Sometimes I guess you shouldn’t
Blame yourself, I mean
However, it’s more realistic that you’ll do it anyway
At least a little
And sometimes maybe rightfully
But not always

The fact is that this messes up your whole plan
Hence, you have to start making a new one
And now you have to choose:
Pick yourself up and give 100% again
Or just let it all go because what’s the point?

In the end I feel the urge to say that no matter what
It’ll be ok (right?)
Have faith

Oh faith!
What a curious place this planet would be without you…


Between work and a break

Hey there! Well, I haven’t been posting anything for a while because I was really busy, but whenever that happens, whenever I have too much work and therefore no time at all to be creative, I realise that this is not how I want to live my life. I like my studies, but work cannot and should not be the only thing in one’s life. Even if you love what you do for a living, there should be time for other things as well. Unfortunately it often seems to be quite hard to find that balance, and this is what I recently wrote about…——————————————————————————————————-

I know now, why people just keep going, just keep working.
I know now, why others can’t get anything done, are lazy, and even though they feel bad, can’t change their situation.

I couldn’t understand for the longest time. Until after a busy episode of my life I let go. I let go and relaxed. I let go and didn’t do anything for a couple of days. I enjoyed life. After that it was hard to get back to work again. To study, to be ambitious, to put what makes me happy behind stress because striving towards a goal is important, too. Because getting to this goal is supposed to make me happy in the future. Sometimes even the process of getting there makes me happy. I like my studies. But the speed of it, what working hard for a goal demands from you, what it means for the rest of your life… It means putting a lot away. For a long time. When you think you’ve done enough for a while and give yourself a break all starts again. You break down. You enjoy the first few days of freedom. Then you relax, and then, after a short time, you start worrying again. Have you taken too long of a break? Will you still be able to reach your goals now? How will you be able to get all of the work done, these huge, huge amounts of work? You have to start right away.

But where? Where do you begin? Starting to work is painful. You’re drawn to the comfortable life you had during your break, and this time it is even harder to get your ambition and your strive back. In the end, you don’t do anything at all that day. You wanted to, but you just couldn’t. Why? Maybe because you need a break, maybe because you enjoy being lazy… who knows? Who cares? The fact is that you simply couldn’t. Then eventually time pressures you, gets you to slowly start working again until you crave finishing what you’ve started and get into the extreme opposite again. You had a break. That means that you now have to work like crazy. No breaks, no time to breath, no time at all. And this keeps repeating itself over, and over. And in every working phase you keep telling yourself that it gets better, that the next break is coming. And in every break you think something is wrong, and that this can’t be it. And at the end of every break you know you should have just kept going.

With every cycle it gets worse. It gets harder to kick yourself back into working. Motivation gets better at hiding. Much better. And finding it takes so much energy that you start every working period with less strength. Hence the working part gets shorter and shorter, and the breaks longer, but less satisfying at the same time. Until you don’t do anything anymore, but can’t even enjoy that.

Now I understand why some people just keep going. They realised, that stopping makes them vulnerable to their own thoughts and weaknesses. Because stopping for just a short time is impossible. It makes you crave for more. More time to enjoy life instead of just working all the time. But out of bad conscience you cannot enjoy that free time. You waste it trying to get back to work; and you fail.

Those who put their whole life on pause, they understood that work is not everything. But they are trapped in their freedom, not able to get out, and even less able to actually feel free in it.

In the end, we’re trapped anyway, and writing this keeps me from working, and seems like a useful thing to do, but then again, it just keeps me prisoner of the laziness I cannot and do not enjoy. It keeps me stuck in the same place. But that won’t stop me from trying to break out of this vicious circle in order to find the healthy balance between satisfying work and truly enjoyable freedom during breaks.

Happy New Year and best wishes to all of you!

Des voix

Tu attends. Les voix autour sont des sons étranges. Que des chuchotements racontant des rumeurs. Des secrets et des impertinences. Mais dans tes pensées, tout devient flou. Une continuité de mots indéterminables. Une masse inutile dont on ne peut pas se passer. En même temps c’est agréable. Une base constante du monde réel qui rappelle la vraie vie pendant que les pensées s’envolent dans l’infini, dans l’abstrait, dans l’inconnu. Un contraste grâce aux mots vides en face des pensées si pleines qui n’arrivent pourtant jamais à une fin.  Puis le silence. Les voix sont parties. Tu te reposes dans le calme, mais dès que tu te laisses tomber, ton esprit bouge, s’étire, et des milliers d’idées commencent à parler, à crier en même temps, l’une à travers de l’autre. Un désordre parfait. Tu ne comprends plus rien. Rien n’est plus clair et tu ne sais pas quoi faire de toutes ces impressions. Tu es perdu. Dès que tu te concentres sur un aspect, il s’enfuie et s’échappe. Son cœur se cache. Sans avoir trouvé des réponses, tu te retires de nouveau dans un court moment de calme, tu ignores les voix, leur claques la porte au nez.  Mais lorsqu’on ferme une porte, une autre s’ouvre. Les voix des étrangers regagnent lentement du terrain. Maintenant ils sont plus supportables qu’avant. Ils ne s’échappent pas et même si on en attrape que des petites portions, ils racontent quant même des histoires plus claires et interprétables. C’est presque agréable.