I can’t tell how I feel lately. I have no words left. Pretty pathetic for someone who means to write. The more I pine about what the hell we - all of my personalities, including me, my muse and my alter-ego - are going to make of the life I suffer, the less will happen.

I was googling yesterday for writers whom did suicide, but I didn’t find a list of Belgian writers whom did too. You can say what you want, but it is an interesting phenomenon.

I want to do two things. I want to visit a certain someone rather often. Not so much for the visit - or not at all actually - but it’s just someone I need to see very often. I can best describe it as an addiction, or also a kind of co dependency. I am not fond of going away, but I’d be in private surrounding with this person. So I haven’t yet figured out what I am going to do.

Second thing I want to do, is take a course - which is not easy if you are antisocial and absolutely afraid of people. Whatever one suggests, don’t start with if you want it enough…That’s silly and has nothing to do with this.