How many beginnings of articles have I tested?
How many drafts did I start?
How many snippets of my thoughts did I throw away without being printed here?
How many unfinished items were just waiting to be rounded?
Because for each writing I tried several topics.
More titles.
Several topics that seemed a little too dusty at the time, meaningless and in the end maybe too trivial.
Because, for all these, there are no ideas to which I cannot give a meaning and no subjects that I did not feel like bringing to a good end.
There are also feelings and parts of my personality that I could not express as I would have liked and in the end maybe they did not have a meaning to my liking.
Because yes, in the end we write for ourselves, not just for those who read us.
There are parts of me that don’t change.
Because, writing for me is the combination of a passion next to everyday work.
Maybe if the man was good at what he writes mediocre, his work would sound, and he still wouldn’t have the success he would have wanted if he had accomplished it.
I wrote about a lot and I tried various topics but most of all I wrote about myself, about the side where I think and how I perceive things.
I wrote about everything that caught my attention and was part of my circle.
Maybe I will try other themes, maybe there will be other stories in which I will try to overcome situations.
And no matter how many publications per week or per month I would write from now on, the topics will also keep up with me.