Just waiting for prints to be made.

The ideas come, but it’s never at the right time.

It’s usually on the bus, in the bathtub, in the car, when I am trying to go to sleep etc.

My mind just wanders off on its own. So there should be plenty of material for writing.

I could also make posts about my weird habits, like never writing double sided in notebooks and never using a full page, since I struggle with writing on the bottom lines. 

My fear of most fruits and a lot veggies too. Yep, I could never be a vegetarian. My love for pizza.

Or just the insane feelings that sometimes just jump at me.

I have a pretty decent imagination, so that shouldn’t really be a problem.

But I still very often find myself staring at the blank pages.

The pages are as white as untouched snow. Just waiting for prints to be made. Reminds me a lot of an empty bank account waiting for the paycheck to come.

I am a wisher, or maybe I’m just a wish. There is always something I want or wish for, not necessarily materialistic things. Just ideas and thoughts.

I’m trying to find my way and eventually I will reach a destination. Just like the future of my life, it’s unknown and I will just have to accept it as is.


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