Things Only I Can Write About

my expertise

I’m always on the lookout for things that I can be an “expert” in, or write better than other people, but there are so many great guides and top lists on the internet, and I don’t have much to add.

I could try to make an even better list, or an even better article about some subject, but I’ve never had a competitor’s mindset.

Caring about things

When I was little, we used to have these competitions at school every year, but I would just stand there like a fool and wait for it to be over. My classmates would scold me for not taking it seriously, and not giving it my all.

What they didn’t understand, was that I couldn’t help not to be interested. I watched them acting like fools, doing their best at something I found so pointless, but they saw me the same way, in reverse.

Throughout the years, I’ve been pondering over this issue in my mind, trying to figure it out, trying to understand, trying to comprehend what it is that drives people into trying their hardest for seemingly insignificant things, such as grades, different projects, helping people…

I’ve watched dramas, tv-series, and movies, thinking about it, and while wanting to have something like that of my own, I’ve still not quite gotten to the level where I truly understand it. I can fake, and I can pretend, but not for long, and I don’t see the point in that, either.

Sometimes, however, I pretend in order to fit in, and because I don’t want to be seen as a cold-hearted freak. It’s not what I am (I think), in spite of what I’ve been told. I act the way I know that people are supposed to act, but not genuinely, and not because I feel the same things that it seems like other people do, and I know I’m supposed to.

I’m not unfeeling though, and not a sociopath, because I don’t want to harm people, but I may or may not be autistic. Either way, that’s a different topic.

Maybe I seem lazy, but it’s not laziness. I just can’t find myself to care enough.

No matter how much I want to, and how much I try, there’s always this barrier between me and caring.

The Vast Internet

It’s too big. I get overwhelmed when I think about it, and start to wish that I was someplace else, where just me, my husband and the stars were present. Somewhere far away, where only genuine things exist.

There is so much information, and it’s both good and bad.

I study information science, so I should like it. And I do, but… like I said, it’s also overwhelming.

Having so many choices often leads to paralyze, and I know that’s a real thing for many people these days, not just me. It’s the result of capitalism, I guess. Consumerism, all that. I feel like I’m throwing around words that I don’t know that much about, in depth.


In business, caring is everything, isn’t it?

Whether it’s caring for the clients, or caring for the process, or the end goal.

Well, I can’t say I don’t care about the end goal, but my end goal can’t remain consistent. That’s a whole other issue, though.

I want to care about the clients, because that’s what I’m supposed to do. A person is supposed to care about other people.

On some level, I do, but I feel like it’s not enough. I’m not selfless enough, nor am I selfish enough. Not sure what I am.


The one thing I really, really care about.

Why, isn’t that great? You might think, but it hasn’t always been on a healthy level.

In fact, a lot of the time, it has been unhealthy. Love addiction took over many years of my life, but I’m happy now that I have my “husband”, and don’t need to stay on that route anymore.

Of course, I’m still obsessed with our relationship and our life together, but we both are, so it’s OK. He doesn’t mind my needy, clingy and a bit crazy side. JK about the crazy, I’m very sane.

But write about what?

Since the start of this blog, I’ve changed its direction I don’t know how many times.

It started as a family blog, then progressed into a LDR blog, age gap relationship blog, then writing blog, and in the end, it’s just my thoughts.

I’ve written a few different types of posts, but the ones I’m the most proud of are the ones that contain my thoughts. Is that narcissism?

I get exhausted trying to write things that don’t inspire me, but writing my thoughts doesn’t tire me out at all — logic, where are you? I’m doing the exact same thing, so how can it have such different outcomes?

The same is the case when I chat with my “husband”. Can do it for hours, and it’s totally fine, but when I tried to write a couple of blog posts earlier today that were supposed to be informative, I felt that heaviness strangle my brain, imprisoning me like some kind of cloud made of steel.

My Specialty

Always looking for it, but never finding it. In the end, my true specialty might really be my thoughts.

It pains me to say that, because I don’t know if they are any good.

I happen to know a person who is a bit like me, in this sense. She talks about her philosophical “discoveries” with such enthusiasm, unaware of the fact that they are redundant — my fear is that I’m doing the exact same thing.

I fear that there is no value in my thoughts, that they are just copies of everyone else’s. Things you all already know. And if so, what is the meaning of writing them down? What is the meaning of trying to add anything to the information-loaded world of the internet?

Not to sound pessimistic, but those are some of the things I think about.

My Reason for Not Giving Up

I haven’t thought about this a lot, but I just realized that my reason may not be the simple hope, that I thought it was.

No, it’s something else. Something that one of the above passages made me realize…

The reason is... LOVE.

Yes, my endlessly obsessive love.

Having had several blogs in the past, I’ve always quit, but this time… it seems like something is stopping me from doing so, even if I wanted to, and that is the fact that I started this blog as a relationship blog, a love product of my relationship with my “husband”, so I might just never quit.

However, I can’t, and see no reason to, try to add to something that already has very good sources of information. It doesn’t make sense to me. Trying to change the world or improve things — those belong to the category of things I don’t understand, no matter how much I try (and I have tried, for years).

So, in the end, the only thing that only I can write about, is my experience and thoughts.

That said, I still won’t give up on finding things I’m good at. It’s an endless search, and I think that applies to everyone.

Tomorrow is NaNoWriMo, but I don’t feel inspired at all. Hopefully I can still get some novel writing done. Inspiration is to be sought out, yes, and I have no excuses.

One thought on “Things Only I Can Write About

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