I am super exhausted but somehow, I’m drawn to write. On what, I don’t know. Just to write.


My “vacation” comes with an unnerving feeling, as always. Trying not to put my hopes too high yet at the same time avoiding from being too sceptic. That alone exhausts me. Thinking of the probabilities, of what might happen, of what awaits. Far too much assessing for my liking but being trapped in comfort scares me much more. Comfort disables mind. Torment strengthens it.


I am not sure of what to prepare. Not sure of what I want. But failure is not one of them. It lacks passion but it’s a duty that needs to be fulfilled. A responsibility that has to be carried out till the end. And failing bruises my ego.


Those are good enough reasons. 


Ok. Now I’m hungry.