Fairydust Freedom and Crumbly Lies
To sit down and write seems another life. To muse over my life, to write it down and share it was once my thing. I feel the fairy powder has gone lost on me. Although nature here seems beyond a fairy magical land. I still feel sharing, a reply, a sigh, a story back gives life. I rather would sit around a campfire. Someone brings a guitar, a poem, some vegan marshmallows and more. People hardly have time for each other. Working, scrolling . . . I hear Daftpunks: Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger in my head now. Success, even the fake one, has become an addiction. Making us blind and then when stressed, burn-out, unhappiness, depression from it, people are blaming it on the individual and not society. Full agenda’s have become socially rewarding. I started to believe in this as well or at least doubt myself a lot when I didn’t. I have no addictions besides my phone. (At least I am not scared being honest, though honesty can give a lot of negative feedback.) They may say: be yourself! But...