Talking About My Road of Adolescence and Feelings

While writing, I avoid being fake, lying to you, and pretending to be someone I am not, and I am so self-defenseless against the world ...

"You are not what I am attached to without hesitation, to write. I do not think of you at all while writing. Likewise, I am not the one to whom you are attached.

I imagine that colors are prudent, maybe the opposite of words ...

While it is the subject of thousands of equations that I have built inside, that constant coefficient is of course never related to my age or my identity number, and it is almost impossible to express what I am about.

An endless enthusiasm grows and ultimately my words take wing.

My student years in which I worked in numerical terms and I was compelled to choose a profession that is directly proportional after receiving a numerical education.

Can you look at the expression in the sentence? It is both a profession I chose and, to put it briefly, that I am compulsory, presented to me from the day I was born.
I have given up my life and my happiness and freedom in order to gain this awareness for a lifetime, both by choice and obligation.

Being a lonely child and then an adult.

In an isolated society, the importance given to social relations, and no matter how hard I try in an individual sense, beyond being a respectable individual to which I whistle, I sometimes come across with a rebellious wind.

While playing with the settings of my mind and I am constantly investing in my soul and mind, of course it is an inner journey that I could not even realize to keep my mental health hidden, and unfortunately I have transferred this to time and day only in the last eight years.

It's like a transport vehicle:

While my mind was hidden in my locomotive and freight wagons, my emotions, of course, my thoughts, my horse head and I danced with my emotions and logic that I restrain, and I finally came to the point of exploding.

A lifetime while it is a process.

While I was a subset of the essence of about ten years, my existence, of course, wasted a lifetime from the mistake I made in choosing a profession.

Since yesterday…

More precisely, while I have had an endless desire to tell myself for as long as I can remember, so while I want to touch whoever is outside of me, I have drowned everybody in front of me in detail as if it was not enough to let them read inside.

Especially when I was ten years old when I was the only gun at home, I was astonished that I had a brother. I took my younger brother who was involved like a divan.

With the luxury of being a live toy, my grandmother, who was the elder of the house who lost my first friend and passed on to eternity, and while the first ten years of my life were entrusted to him, then the toy and the live baby who took the head of the train that made a hooker.

Of course, I can never deny my school life because it is the only place in the house where my creativity ends, even the first and last place.

My feelings when I am not abandoned.
Maybe a homework that was smashed.

And here is my journey, my inner voice, which takes the helm with a rapid flow and tolerance, and everything I share with the maintenance of my favorite class and schoolmates, hold my pen, my feelings and the happiness of being a friend, while a lifetime does not change for anything.

There are also those that are in the nature of a warning. It turns out that my first friend in primary school took shelter under the wings of a girl who was transferred to the classroom and this was my first time when I was my emotions.

After my stolen friend, I set out again, and of course my love for the human beings was on my way without slowing down, and I was stuck halfway by my friends.

So far, everything is fine too ...

However, when I talk about the road to adolescence, my point of view, which explores the fact that being a student is a profession, may not yet be able to realize that I am different from everyone else.

Words are always in my inner pocket and always on my collar, while numerical data and that chaos that has never been explained.

While the importance he attaches to words, on the other hand, my desire to make my analytical intelligence workable with a directly proportional profession, more precisely, my family and of course, breaking my chains while I was guiding me to a popular profession ...

What a lifetime I have engaged in, after all, growing up in someone's eyes actually magnifies my enthusiasm, or rather that this enthusiasm leads me to different expansions.

I stipulate myself both in my social life, in my private life and professionally:

Achievement-oriented.

Whatever it means to be successful is in the eyes of people.

Of course, to be accepted, to preserve my dignity and to be a beloved team member, it is as if I was an archaeologist doing excavations in a special team, but actually uncovering the excavations inside me and I could not realize that I was constantly breaking through.

Of course, an opening that is not important at all in the professional sense, I have embellished my professional life with emotions, whatever the relevance is.

To obtain reasonable consent.

What I approve is under the title of everyone and here is everyone, all my colleagues I trust and even strangers I have met, sometimes before an interview, or even during shopping, people whom I do not know at all, under the title of foreigners, of course, when I treat everyone equally.

Everyone who is equal, but for the sake of which I cannot see the same response from everyone, I have changed my working environment dozens of times, but an office or a plaza is where I work, since it is my search for people and my desire to get approval.

Of course, my inner world that I hit the wall many times and has no pattern with my profession. I will travel with my mind and get the approval of everyone I come across, and it is my duty as a numerical perspective, but I can never achieve emotional efficiency.

This enthusiasm in the literary world is of course the continuation of yesterday and even the treat, because I am the writer and the narrator, I desperately list my inner voice in the lines and I write without getting offended, what tells me is actually a regular of a life where telling me is always a contributor to me, and I go to the ring with my pen and the responsibility of every sentence I write. I bought it because I strive with all my heart to make it a remarkable journey in the name of literature.

One step further:

Rather than striving, my enthusiasm has not subsided and I let it cascade like a waterfall.

Who am I writing?

Of course, he didn't have many friends during his childhood.

My name, which is embellished with adjectives that I have come across for a lifetime beyond who I am while writing, of course, is that I struggle to be human in every sense and match it with love.

Even simple ordinary work gains value and beauty when even a housework is done lovingly, and a constant desire for acceptance in man, because a well dug with love, even with a needle, but with love.

In the name of the peace that the narration will give peace of mind.

And whenever I find myself incompetent - whatever the subject is - a great disappointment is the anxiety that captivates me and the anxiety of resumption that my painful aches touches my back, and the desire to hesitate and take myself to the next point unless I am satisfied that I start again and end my anxiety in my story.

While the dialogue I have with the reader and the fact that I feel close to the reader is also the only way to come to an agreement with myself.

While I had experienced this feeling only in the years when I was a student and a teacher, and the path to interaction in human relations, but could not make it real in every field, after all, while sharing the ace-base relationship that occurs in social environments and an environment of competition with the people you are in the same position.

Protractor of your life?

Or should I say pain meter?

After all, those different angles and expansions in human relations impose separate pains on people.

While the mind and emotions must be in a showdown and one of them is necessarily one step ahead of the other, so literature has one side of life, more precisely both sides of the coin, in the phenomenon called literature.

The emotional aspect of the job, of course, that you are yourself.

And you set yourself a goal: of course you put an end to all your anxieties for a while, with a logical effort in the transfer of emotions, that you shape the pen and words, and here are the only real internalized words that are sharp at both ends, and with the collaboration of the pen, of course, if it is as peaceful as you write and as clear as you tell, it is wavy. sea…

Moreover, the sense of awareness that I gained from summer to summer that I remember my childhood more clearly lately and when I first perceive myself when I was the first age to remember, my state of about four years old is so close to me that I also feel the whole world close to myself, and even when it is hidden in me, that gigantic world is just as much. the sense of infinity that I have matched.

This spiritual bond that I have established with the reader is just as much as I can get more and more in my struggle with myself, as well as life brings new troubles, you are unwittingly modifying it in some way.

Touching their hearts as someone who only reads and writes now, the reader has more peace and happiness than reading in this context, and there are many more people and what will exist, just as my enthusiasm has spread to people and words, and I consider all my feelings to be connected with dreams. which is an appetizer to my story and poetry.

My material is, of course, that I end the silence of the inner voice, so that I sometimes ignore and sometimes inaudible in contact with the external voice, so I put my whole heart in order to be one step beyond the meaning of the narrative motive hidden in me.

"Writing for me the only and best way to present my heart to you. I do this at all risks, including you. Because I love you and our friendship holds the promise of eternity.