i don’t know what I’m doing, yet I do

People say that you to become a writer, you should write. And writing – like any other skill – is something you must train. To become good at writing, they say, you should write every day, if at all possible. So instead of just thinking about this, I decided to do it. Problem being, I don’t know what to write about, so here I am sitting in in a tram on the way to university, writing about the fact that I can’t write. Gotta start somewhere, I guess?

One of my most profound problems is that I often cannot order my whirling thoughts. My mind is full of ideas, of worlds, stories, characters – in fact, I spend a better part of my life lost in thought, wandering through worlds I discover within my head. And I have often thought that I should chronicle these journeys, but I have never been able to. Like dreams, most of them run through my fingers, escape me as soon as my mind drifts back into this world, often because someone or something forcefully pulls me back – like having to exit the tram at the final station.