(nonii) flawless real talk

Recently, I talk a lot about how much I like writing, but actually do not write a lot these days. I'm writing because I have to, for work, for university. I tell people, that describing the reality is somehow my passion, and in meantime I have no idea what is real and I put off my writing for ever and procrastinate. Some moments in our lifes, some affairs like this one, opens up something in me again. Something, that used to dig its place very deep in me, in order to never see the light of the day. But suddenly, things happen and I want to remember how to feel, I want to stop those beautiful moments and keep them in a perfect shape for the sake of my heart and my wellbeing, to posses them forever. I want to rearrange them, into twenty seven letters, written repeatedly, over and over till I can breath again. 

But I cannot breath. Volunteering. The decision that was not really thought through, stupid and childish escape from adulthood that I am facing. The last dive into irresponsibility. The last stupid and wrong feeling, like this one, impossible crush. At the back of the head caution and stability, almost fixed path, and in front of my nose uncertainty, immaturity, passion and fierce. We are all so different here and I admire the possibility to be a part of it. 

But I need to learn how to breath again.