I don’t know where I am going. I don’t know what I am trying to write. I know that I’m a mess and that my coffee isn’t warm anymore. My hair lost his golden glance and my body has disappeared in layers of comfort. The ridges of my hands are clean and my eyelashes are curled again. I recall myself walking head down through the school hallways yesterday. I never used to be that way.

I don’t know where I am going. I don’t know where I lost it. Maybe it was on that mountaintop, where I turned 360 degrees into the wild. Maybe it was that drunk night when I fell asleep in my own dream. Maybe it was that bright morning which made me feel extremely happy. Maybe it was that afternoon when I watched the sunset without blinking. Maybe it was that day that I lost myself in all astonishment about life.

I don’t know where I am going. I feel like standing in the middle of a busy trainstation. People flashing left and right. People I haven’t met and people I might have met. And they might have a destination, some may not. We’re all trying to follow our heart. We’re all  doubting which train to take and were to stop. Which is a metaphor for life, you never know where to start, and where to end.

I don’t know where I am going.
As long as I move forward.




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