Everything Is Too Much, Everything Is Missing

The world did not used to press in on us quite so much.

News felt far away.
An election in another country, an unsettled economy, a crisis elsewhere…
These things did not sit at the centre of our daily lives.

Now it is different.
We feel as if we carry not only our own lives,
but the weight of the whole world on our backs.
We wake one morning,
and decisions in other countries shape our mood.
Not just the future of our own country,
but even the futures of other nations have become our concern.

Perhaps this global awareness is valuable,
but it is also exhausting.
We are constantly on alert.
It is hard to say anything certain about the future.
And we try to breathe within the uncertainty.

The struggle to make a living on one side, environmental crises on the other.
Thinking of our children's future tightens something inside us.
Even dreaming has become a risky act.
We cannot look ahead with hope as we once did.
Because we do not know what to trust.

If I could travel through time,
perhaps I would not want to go anywhere.
But I would want to put some things right.
Wrong decisions, moments when we stayed silent,
systems that exhaust societies and divide people…

This is no longer only individual exhaustion, but a collective one.
We live together.
In different countries, in different languages, but with the same feelings.
We are tired.
Aware, but tired.
We see, read and hear… but sometimes cannot carry it all.

That is why writing is a path for me.
Not an exit, but a stopping place.
To pause, think, gather myself and remember…
Perhaps this is a way to bring something good to myself and others.

Because sometimes words
describe not events, but the human being.
And above all,
we are trying to remain human.

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