I hope you didnt expect me to write yesterday…no need to mention I were so badly tired…slept the past thirteen hours.
I just read that one million people commit suicide every year…an interesting number.
Spreading out all my poetry for submission on the floor…I noticed I do not have enough poems yet for the assignment next week Friday…but luckily enough ideas in my head.
Short break for breakfast….eight hours later…
Surprisingly I feel so well now…might be because I just had shower but even earlier I am so much in peace with myself…sure I miss wandering around the house, grabbing a cat (even Gonzo with his five kilos!) and carying him/her around or the moment when my mother comes home from work with a thousand stories of a usual crazy school day…and I finally got their parcel (after almost two months…winks to German post)…have loads of Kinder chocolate now with spaetzle…However, still I accept that I cant have the comfort of my second home there all the time, throw myself into a thousand books or bother my teacher with my work…(today was not really satisfying as he ”only” liked the writing a lot (criticism would have been more helpful) and gave me some things for reading)…all in all it gets even more harder with the high perfection…I wrote one poem today (four more to go..), read a lot and looked through some more concrete poems…isn’t that enough? Why do I want more?

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