I thought about writing a diary. Maybe because I'm tired of using my notebook for over a year... Or maybe because I want to take it up once again? Maybe I've become too poetic and I need to come back to earth? I don't know.
Or maybe it's because I want a change. Leave my style...? Partly true. Indeed, I want a change. I'm tired of this navy, overused cover, some sheets left until the end and so on. I've always loved the moment of starting a new notebook. The world was mine. I could make up my vision. Continue it in my own pieces of writing.
Mediocrity overwhelming me once again. Why? Why am I vacant? Why have I run out of ideas? Why am I no longer as creative as I used to be in my "early days"?
How I adore writing about nothing!
Nothing.
Complex, isn't it?
