Young people are tossed toil among possibilities and impossibilities

I don't plan, I just dream. Sometimes my dreams come true, and every unfulfilled dream becomes a step for a different dream.

I'm starting my favorite hours of the day again.

I love feeling the sweet warmth of the sunlight burning my skin on my face so much. Since my childhood, I love travels, people running around, watching the panic and confusion that his hasty attitude on the way to a place creates on their faces, and sometimes I hear the warning that a mother has to hurry to her child.

And sometimes the giggles of high school lovers fill the subway as if they turn the inside of the subway into a caravan with cheerful songs, their admiring glances at each other. I love the journey, as if I take my soul out into the lap of those fleeting but enjoyable moments. When I close my eyes, my playlist immerses me in a stage starring a piano or lively environments with drums. Music, travel, and a few amateur drawings that I scribble constitute indispensable parts of my life. I am a woman with a different point of view, with strange obsessions. I keep my diaries day by day, I write every memory as it is now, in my notebook that I put in the inside pocket of my jacket, and I never miss it while writing the date of that day in the corner. As if experiencing the anxiety of the fear that he will forget every passing minute… Maybe it is because of the sentimentality of autumn that my eyes are full of emotion. I love reading different faces and guessing what's going through their minds at that moment.

And sometimes my happiness is replaced by a great sadness because of the sad stories I wrote. Even though my belief that everyone has a story sometimes pushes me to think "You are playing godliness", I find myself giving the same answers when I argue with myself. What I do is to be able to see the tiredness etched into the lines on the faces of the people, the experience filled around the eyes, the hope hidden behind a smile and write livable scenarios in response to it. 

I don't know how I got from the days when I believed I could control everything to these days when I didn't want to control anything. maybe that's the price of being a middle-aged adult.

I'm still doing my routine work. At 9 o'clock in the morning, I sit on my seat and watch the running in the subway with joyful delight. My eyes catch on the window where there are empty seats next to me, I look at my own reflection for a while. A pair of hazel eyes filled with sadness in the eyes of a few people I observe meet me. I can see my low energy hidden in my prominent cheekbones, and also the reds that play out against my white skin. I don't like my look. I'm not good with mirrors; I couldn't be at peace, somehow I stretched out my hand and they pushed, I lower my gaze to the unbuttoned buttons of my jacket. As the subway slowly fills up and a lot of souls fill it, I feel my mood again and I turn my eyes from the buttons of my jacket to the subway. Some of them are late for work, while talking on the phone with their boss, their fingers are cramped in the seat where they are sitting. And I start the day very fast.