Member-only story
Writing is actually not my final passion, but it will always stay my old favourite:)
You know when they ask a singer, when did they start to sing, and the singer answers:”Oh, I’ve been singing since I was four!” ?
Well, I could say the same about my love for the written word. I kept bugging my mum to tell me what is written above the big store which was just across the road from us. “But I’ve told you a thousand times!” she would exclaim, exhausted from having to read everything to me. One day she was fed up and taught me how to read. She was behind the counter of the gas station my parents were running, so she called me to her and the first word she taught me how to read was “Schmetterling”. Butterfly. First she taught me how to read in German, then in Slovenian. I was four.
As you can imagine, I started inhaling any book that I could get my fingers on.
As a kid in school, I embraced the idea of writing a journal. It was the best way to learn to express into words what I felt or thought because the world around me had an issue with me and never had the patience to hear me out so I could explain what I really meant. Have you ever felt like that? You say a sentence and the people around you jump on that first sentence as if it were your final opinion on the matter, and you never got the chance to explain that you didn’t even scratch…
