Only sometimes you realise everything is linked, comes together. It’s such a powerful feeling, to see how a poem you learned by heart when you were a mere thirteen years old, the epigraph of a master thesis, a quoted sentence on the first page of my final work in high school – all relates, comes together, is one and the same.

It’s tempting to think that makes it all true. All this thinking, this writing that makes sense probably only to me, that is devoid of analytic mindsets, that is a rapture, a pure madness sprung unto those pages I call my own… it must be meaningful if my life up to now has all lead to it. Right?
I’ve made rather harsh choices in my life, moments of turning around and starting over, of saying goodbye to people who had vowed to stay forever with a single kiss on the cheek – perhaps this sounds too Biblical, but it is the truth. The chosen path, realised at the moment of realisation.
It’s time to come to terms with it. To acknowledge that this is all what needs to be, the only road ahead.
It’s time to finish my dissertation. To defend my thought.
And then? To continue doing so, over and over again.
There is only repetition.