Sometimes I think people take themselves too seriously—their plans, their successes, how they appear to others. But I just want to allow myself to be chaotic. 🌪️ Do something stupid, say something absurd, spontaneously give up everything—and not beat myself up about it.

Recently, I realized that loneliness isn't just about the absence of someone. It's about the space where you can make mistakes, fall, laugh at yourself, and not expect approval. And that's surprisingly liberating.

But still, sometimes a strange feeling comes over me: aren't we too afraid of our desires? 💭 How many people live, subject to the expectations of others, and only secretly dream of freedom? I often ask myself this question, looking at my reflection in a shop window and wondering who I am without masks, without roles, without other people's gazes.

And here comes the most interesting point: what's more important—being part of someone else's story or writing your own, even if it's crazy, strange, and unpredictable? 🤔