Machiavelli taught me that you never worry about the bubble you live in, you work in. If you are only worried about the six inches before your face, you have no concern about your hindsight and you definitely have no foresight for the pitfalls before you. If you’ve ever read The Prince you understand that the politics of the mind are far greater than the politics of the moment. Controlling yourself and your outcome is the only way to truly control your future. That’s the only way to really dispel the fog of war.
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Who does not want to be loved? Who is not longing for attention, recognition, acknowledgement and for being recognised as a human being, to be seen and heard and why not for receiving a hug?
I’m so confused.
There’s a big mess in my head.
I don’t know where to start and where to end.
There’s no problem in my life.
The only problems are made by me.
I’ve got no big threats against my life.
Then why is my brain fried?
Problems are problems, if you give them the space to be problems.
Because the only one recognizing those problems, is you.
It’s your brain telling you there’s a problem, but when is it really one?
My brain is fried with problems.
Or aren’t they such things?
Are they just thoughts, which pass my mind too many at the same time, so that I can’t see which one is which anymore?
I can’t differentiate between them.
I want things but do I have the right to?
I’m aware of my past and my failures.
I try to stop myself from doing weird things.
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