Inner conflicts

She was standing beside me. Looking exactly how I look, wearing exactly what I wear, having a pen in her hand, writing into a book. When I moved closer, she looked up.

‘What are you doing,?’ - I asked.

‘ Writing.’ - she said, with that small, warm smile on her face, that made me, like almost everyone, comfortable and gave me the feeling, that she really saw me. But, because she was me, I know that she didn’t. It was empathy, and curiosity, and knowledge of psychology. It wasn’t even a mask. It was just her face. A fortunate combinations of cells, if you please. Or unfortunate. Depends on how you want to look at it.

‘What are you writing?’

‘Everything you are afraid to write. Do you realize how many projects have passed since you have written about them? Isn’t it why you made your new page? You are terrified.’

‘Of what?’

‘Of being judged by those who are part of the stories you want to write. Of being found out. Of being seen. You have all these words pouring out of your soul and you deny to put a glass there to collect it and don’t let it go to waste.’

‘But I want that glass to be perfect.’

She laughed.

‘It will never be perfect, and it never should. What you write is yours and yours alone. It does not have to be objective, or likeable. It will be what it will be. Show a little understanding towards yourself, will you, please?’

‘What do you think I’m doing right now, supporting myself with a vision of my writing self?’

We both smiled. And we both knew that this was not over.

Things people say to me 2.

‘You are so smart.’

‘Oh, please don’t say that.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it turns into “you’re a smartass’ way too quickly.’

*awkward silence*

‘....and there it is.’

The biggest egoist is me

When I write I desperately try to avoid to look smug, vain or sarcastic. Which is funny, because this is my place to write and I should not give a damn. And in general, I consider myself a free-spirited being, who pays as little attention as she can to what others think of her. I am still afraid of shattering the illusion others made of me, even though I have been fighting that illusion all my life. It is time to break that cycle. (haha, and nothing will happen, as usual.)  

The secret is...

‘You are a perfect listener.’

‘Anyone can get there, you just need to posses 15 different ways to say “Uhum”, and have a kind and understanding look in your eyes even when you are thinking about what would happen if we ended world hunger when you are listening to someone.’

The limit of languages

I just really, really need to write. I have so many ideas, thoughts, feelings I want to write about. But as a result of being able to speak 3 languages fluently came the price that I do not actually possess a nice big vocabulary anymore in either of them. I feel like I cannot express myself anymore in one language only. It kills me just a little bit, because I love words so much, and I loved to be able to write down exactly what I meant. Now I have to puzzle it together from 3 different languages and translate them all into one. I did not choose my mother tongue for that, we will see how it goes. Such a shame that my brain is too small for 3 languages. But I’m not going to ignore the urge to write anymore. Not anymore. 

One of my favorites

‘You really should know this, you are a psychologsit.’

‘Yeah, because with that degree, as an appendix, you get the total knowledge of the whole wide world as well, everyone knows it.’

Things people say to me 1.

‘You are an empath, you need to protect yourself from other people sucking on your energy.’

‘Protect myself? Is there a condom for that as well?’