I think I depend too much on exchange. It doesn’t matter whether that is a common issue; it is still a demanding habit.

As I doubt, I am unfit for fights. And so I should not collect too much.

But what is the motivation? Where does the drive come from? Can I know?

It is my idea who makes the whos and whys.

I have only come here seeking knowledge.

There is a room full of ideas, full of identities. And that’s okay because I have seen that before.

But can I stay with me? Or do I reach out?

There is no fixed pattern, but it makes little difference whether I am staying one day or staying one night. At least I am staying alive.

It takes control and slowly tears you apart.

I am not angered when I am unaffected. But is this really care? Should I really care?

Does stupidity really harm me? Because I have harmed myself indeed. I am still silly enough and cannot remember how often.

Maybe it means to remain malleable and fluid. Simultaneously in fruitful overflowing. It’s never too late.

It is progressively flooding and still engaged. I want to express validated observations through beauty and structure to inspire.

Damn, how to produce but possess nothing? There is joy in being a cause.

Words don’t come easy to me.

I guess I am not only a wanting machine. I don’t plan to keep myself in solitary confinement, skipping all meals. This is not a test, but I have to say something.

I don’t like being forced, so I should also avoid applying force. All the input makes me communicate, but shouldn’t I create resources and research processes instead?

If everyone wants my attention, I can probably give my attention to everyone else well—at least sometimes.

You are always welcome.