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Timey wimey reboot.

I missed writing. I messed up writing. In between set formats, tasks and work, my voice was lost in what others' expectations did to me. It didn't have to, but I stopped writing. Personal became academic, professional became rambling, readable story telling became incomprehensible word production. I became a slave to formats, yet could not adhere to any of them. Now, this is an attempt to reboot my writing. ("Have you tried turning it off and back on again?") This is the back on. Let's see if it actually starts up and works this time. Life happened and I have no idea how to keep track of time anymore. It either slips by quietly and before you know it, you're five years later with no way of telling how you got there. Your new fancy outfit is suddenly grey and bought in... hm... was it 2012? In other areas of life, time seems to stand still and you keep treading the same paths into trenches. Afraid to leave or stuck despite of efforts to get away. Big leaps: I

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