I have begun to write random thoughts down when I wasn’t even old enough to know what I was thinking.
And because my 20 years old self has little to no time for dramatic monologues about life, here is a fragment from one of my many thoughts notebooks (because I refuse to call them diaries):
“Today I’ve learnt that sometimes fiction is better than reality, kinder, more patient, more joyful, more complete.
Sometimes your imagination is all you need at the end of a day that was torn apart by the reality of the world we live in.
Maybe that is the reason why I always find myself returning to my protective bubble, in the safety of my own imaginary world.
Do not try to bring me back with the feet on the ground. I am content here. In the comfort of a bubble filled with happiness, peace and hope. And I laugh at all of you who are so preoccupied by the problems of every day life and you forget how to dance, how to hope and how to love.
“Happiness is on everyone’s lips. Everyone sells it, everyone buys it. But few are those who keep it.”
Happiness. The biggest discovery made by humanity. The sole purpose of so many religions, cults, ideologies, groups and individuals. And still so hard to grasp it and almost impossible to keep.
All that remains to be done is to enjoy the few moments that we have with her, surrounded by her, overwhelmed by her. (Note: Because knowing happiness, she’s most likely a woman.)”
I read this and the first thing that comes to mind is :“What did I know about happiness at 17?”.
Well, possibly more than I know now.