If you open my notes, you might be horrified. 😳 There are no plans for life. No “where to go in the summer.” There are weird points that I carefully collect, like others collect stamps or rare vinyls.

For example:
▪️ I like to listen to my neighbors vacuuming in the morning - it reminds me that life around me is moving, even if I'm lazy. 🌄

▪️ I'm afraid of large mirrors at night - it seems like there's someone extra in the reflection. 👻

▪️ I always buy bergamot tea, but I drink it once every six months - I just like having it in the cupboard, as a symbol of something cozy “for later.” 🫖

▪️ I can dream about my old apartments. Sometimes I wake up with the smell of the staircase from my childhood - so concrete and somehow salty. 🏚️

▪️ And also: I love other people's abandoned baskets in stores. I look at them: bread, milk, napkins. What kind of person was in such a hurry that he forgot his little list? 🛒

These oddities don't make it into dating profiles or resumes. 📄 They don't make me "effective" or "successful". But I cling to them when I'm afraid of getting lost in the "correct" versions of myself.

Maybe one day I'll stop being afraid of big mirrors. 🪔 Maybe one day I'll give up the habit of leaving tea "for later". But something tells me - it's better to leave at least some of these oddities untouched.
They are my password from myself. 🔑