Sylvilel

It was a different kind of day. This day, her eyes almost swiveled around in her skull, just dying to be done with the world. Her mind was aiming for mindful, but frankly it was very little mindful , and a lot just full . Those who’d never felt streaks of white fire shooting in web-shaped patterns through their head hadn’t yet lived. It was an out-of-touch kind of day. Waking up, she’d felt more than ready to face it, but as it progressed, her mind tilted more and more sideways. Finally, it slid into a gooey-grey gulf garnished with slate gravel, and she watched in fascinated horror as her mind chewed itself to rags.

The fact is, I don’t know where my ideas come from. Nor does any writer. The only real answer is to drink way too much coffee and buy yourself a desk that doesn’t collapse when you beat your head against it. - Douglas Adams Her gaze dragged past the reflections in the window pane, and sloped in a zigzag across the greening lawn outside. It wasn’t an exploring kind of gaze; it was a reluctant but helpless kind of gaze, fighting not to be drawn towards whatever it was that it was drawn towards. Because let´s face it: It wasn’t drawn towards anything in particular. No; her gaze was always drawn towards something ; a lot of the time that something was just a great big pile of nothing . Nonetheless, it was always drawn . And it was odd, really, for her eyes were so tired. She wanted nothing to do with her eyes being drawn, not at all , yet still - here she was. It was greening outside. The trees had sprouted a little more vigor only since this morning, and the lawn was now less wither-y y

Ok. So I need to train for this. I need to train for writing, like runners train for marathon. I need to break it down into little pieces and look at it microscopically. I need to stop getting lost in my own tangle of thoughts, and start moving ahead with some purpose. And I might need to stop writing in English. Says who? The world is changing. Help it. Make it change. Move forward. Chase the goal and maybe it will be a truth one day. So what’s the goal? To tell my story. Without regret or shame. I am not ashamed. I  am not ashamed. I am not ashamed. I am not ashamed. I am not ashamed. There. See how it becomes truer as we speak´? Good. So buckle up, lady; were going for a ride. You need to stop hesitating. Stop doubting. Stop overthinking. What do you need? You need words. Lots of words. Stories. People. Feelings. Adventures. And you need to stop looking at things from above; you need to get inside them. Be in them. But how do you be in them when you’ve never been in anything your