If walking around in his own head days, it's hard to find a beginning. Everything is stirred up recently. Every thought numerous times, at every beginning and every end, played out. Somehow, everything is nothing new. Unless you bring it to paper. That is why I love writing. It helps.
are treacherous trivia to throw around foreign words with me, the impetus for form a series of thoughts, not at the end of which fits so incredibly to the beginning, there is a lack of irony - actually sarcasm, borders are to me sitting here and writing also.
"She asks: Do you have everything He takes her hand and says: Now even" it comes over me the feeling that I have what I feel here, not the most complex, most unusual, indeed by any mode of expression, by words or Other linguistics to be answered. It is, rather, one of those indescribable moments, which - as I read once - makes a good lyricist. That he can make those moments on paper. But, if I am, is undecided, I do not want to. I do not want the moment of his Rob spell. He is full of goodness and in all its glory, although there are only in my head and seem. A little sunshine in the otherwise dark world of self-reflection throw.
But he caused me asked me what I am doing this so all of that. I mean, everyone for day is always a step in a direction to a place that will arrive at the man. The one lives from weekend to weekend. Torments himself from Monday to Friday from so he can arrive Friday evening in his real life. Goes to work to earn money to output again, so he feels good. Cooks, eats, remains fit, so he expects the weekend will bring you happiness.
But mine is too short. The life of the Friday and Saturday Evening passes will perish - to perish. But what is behind it. Career? Will I have a career, amass a pile of money, so me on a Saturday afternoon and Sunday evening in a - hang around library so I do later career, driving big cars, expensive clothes wear on the otherwise empty body - albeit well-conditioned? I think not. But somewhere, but everything must find its justification. Or I succumb to a fallacy here? Has it not? Is it days, months, years, or even all of life that are completely useless?
departed the intellectual path he led me, as it clearly as quickly in one direction. Those who.
And since I met the knowledge like a hammer - to some extent in the abdomen. That what I wanted to distance myself after I had it already failed many times, so that was the direction of the place where I feel at home? Arriving at where I want?
may explain it, if you think of the daily routine, which is characterized by questions "what the?". Especially since it already starts when you get up?.? "Why So that I can get up in the university and learn what there is to learn just why I do this I later career and make a career for which I alone in this by the side of 2 Asian hookers age of 97 somewhere in the South Pacific from the life of distinction? "
satisfied This is not me. So probably the hookers, but not the idea. In contradiction I see the right path actually only on the side of a partner. If anything, take the idea "to come", even this is not, but the probability is here the highest. For that I can fire me out of bed every morning, get to come home, eat, drink, sleep .. Just live.
The back of the realization, however, was not an admission of such selfish to be, as I thought it to be. It has simply not satisfying to look back with a rich store of knowledge at the end of my life on just the same and I enjoy it. No, the view rotates. Maybe this is another step .. only where ..? meet
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