Hope is an expensive commodity nowadays. The truth is, i don’t really have much to tell you today. I’m not feeling any more or any less hopeful than I did, say, yesterday, but I felt like saying something for no good reason. I feel like I need to be writing, but all I want to do is listen, learn, make decisions, apply the facts. I want to read, too, yes, but I’m afraid of endings, of all that time dedicated to a story which ends. I mean, I have the same problem with tv shows, but it’s somehow easier, there are so many of them, and they are over quicker, the characters somewhat more tangible.
It’s hard to explain. That lack of hope for the current that carries me called life. It’s also hard to explain why most coherent things I have to tell nowadays I end up addressing to an ocean. In letters, put in bottles, tossed into the ocean, never to reach a shore. Maybe I should just rename the whole damnable blog, but what with all the splitting of the worlds — take no notice of the ramblings of a mad woman!Maybe I should start a whole series with this title. I still find it funny that people and bots are more interested in this, the outer shell, than… Nah, it’s always been this way. And you know the answer to all the troubles in the world? Chocolate! A chocolate Santa Claus!