Hello.

You know, I love writing. For years in school it was my favourit thing. I used to create so much with it. It was so much help for me to get along and my soul was getting strength out of it.

But than along with growing up, I lost it. Tragic for me I guess. But than who cares you might say. I do. People around me do, because, and that is the most recent event of my misery, one day I'll break.

I don't really hate to admit this, I feel fine like this, the knowing fact is the best part of it.

But the part that scares me is the part buried down in me.

I am a happy person, there is nothing I love more than life. Everyday I see good things, recently let it be the smile of a child when she passed me at the train station or the kidness of a man when his girl feels sick.

All those little things, I know I am crazy but hell, who cares, LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL, open your eyes.



And than there's this dark side of me. So filled with so much anger and sadness that it could fill 10000 souls. If this part is ever on the wining side than it is to late for help.


Honestly I think of getting help. Nowadays it isn't a bad thing to see a professional concerning your mental health. I think today there's more need for that than before.

I am not quite sure how or when, but I am pretty sure, this is something I can't fight alone.









But and now to the happy part:



I AM DOING GOOD. I am fine with life, in the last couple of weeks I felt more satisfied and without regrets than the whole 6 months before. It feels good to feel life again, to see what is going on isn't just your misery, it's a matter for a lot of people and that you are not only a number in the system.

You are your number one. It all begins with you.