Noticed in the way it brushes against your skin or the way you smell it with your nose.

It is not just living it is LIVING.

Feeling your feet on the ground, your back against a chair, hearing people talk loudly around you, feeling the warm air in your neck.

These are details that make up the world that surrounds us. Yet none of them remain the same for a long time. Everything around us is constantly moving and changing. Nothing stays the same. This change is felt strongly. Sometimes it is a different smell in your home, other times it is sleeping in a new bed.

This sensitive way of living can be seen as a burden. However, it can also be viewed also as a gift. In my opinion it can be quite a challenge to see it as a gift or as something positive. If I could, I would just live my life without feeling so much.

But then on the other hand, what is life without being sensitive and emotional? Being sensitive is part of who I am. I would not be me, without being sensitive.

Living like this, in a way, has to be learned. What are my limits? From when on is an experience too much. One has to get to know yourself. Only like this living sensitive can become a positive or even beautiful experience.

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I also felt that this quote is fitting to this topic as it highlights that even though fiction is not factually real, it can still express deeper truths about human nature. One way in which fiction does this is by allowing us to step into another person's mind and experience the world from their perspective.

Fiction develops empathy. When I read I try to understand the protagonists view. I feel with this person and I ask my self would I also act like this? Being in soemone’s head makes you understand this person more deeply. It does not necessarily mean that I agree with their viewpoint; however, I can understand why someone behaves the way they do. I can feel empathy. Fiction helps us understand other perspectives, actions, and motives, not just our own.

However, we also tell stories to understand ourselves better. Sometimes I ask myself: What should I do? What choices should I make based on who I am? At times, I am not sure what I should do, or even who I am. Reading about characters who face similar circumstances helps me reflect on my own life. Their struggles, mistakes, and decisions encourage me to think about my own values and choices. Through fiction, I can explore questions about myself and gain a deeper understanding of who I am.

Fiction is also a form of education. We cannot read a book without learning something new, even if it is very small. Through fiction, we learn about different cultures, philosophies, places, and ways of life. Books can introduce us to ideas and experiences that we might never encounter in our own lives. In this way, fiction constantly expands our knowledge of the world. Therefore, stories do not have to be true to teach us something. Reading books is a way of gaining continuous knowledge, even when the content is not explicitly academic.

Lastly, fiction reveals the complexity of human beings. Humans are highly individual, as each person experiences the world in their own way, with unique emotions and reactions. The same applies to characters in books. They are shaped by different backgrounds and circumstances, which makes them diverse and multilayered. In this sense, fiction can be seen as a reflection of the complexity of human beings.

Due to all these reasons, fiction is essential to society, and I therefore encourage you to read fiction and to recognise its greater purpose. It is more than just words written on paper, it is a message to the world.

Kindly,

Emma 🌸🫶🏻

I find myself asking: What am I going to do?

There’s a part of me that wishes I could stay exactly where I am now, at home, in the place that feels safe and familiar. I know that once I overcome the step of moving out, I’ll eventually find another place that I can call home too. I believe that. But this step, the one before that, feels enormous. The kind of change it brings is hard to even grasp.

Not knowing what will happen, or what’s waiting for me out there, isn’t a comforting thought. The uncertainty sits heavy. There’s so much I want to do and experience, so many versions of life I’m curious about. And at the same time, all I want is to be at home, curled up in a cozy spot, where, for just a moment, everything stays the same. Exactly how I like it.

It’s a line that stuck with me. Not because it’s easy, but because it speaks to something we all know deep down: life isn’t smooth, and falling is unavoidable. What defines someone is what happens after.

Life is messy. It throws challenges in my way, and failures sneak in even when I’ve planned everything perfectly. Mandela’s words remind me that triumph doesn’t mean living flawlessly, it means standing back up, even when it feels impossible. And that shift in perspective is important. Suddenly, failures don’t feel like dead ends. They become stepping stones.

Resilience isn’t about being unshakable or invincible. It’s about being human and still choosing to rise. Real strength comes from acknowledging the bruises, the setbacks, the heartbreaks and deciding that they won’t keep me down.

Every stumble carries something to teach me. Each fall, as painful as it may be, has the potential to reshape me into someone wiser, stronger, steadier. That’s the transformation of uncertainty into growth, and struggle into strength.

Mandela’s wisdom is a reminder we all need from time to time: you don’t have to fear the fall. You just need to trust in your ability to rise again.

The truth is, perfection doesn’t exist. To me, “perfect” would mean having no flaws, never making mistakes, knowing everything. And that’s just not possible, not for me and not for anyone. Imperfection is part of being human. Mistakes are part of growth. Plans fall apart, life surprises us, and trying to control every flaw only leaves me exhausted.

When I shift my focus from the outcome to the process, something changes. Instead of obsessing over whether I did something perfectly, I notice the value in the small steps. The little improvements, the lessons along the way. That’s where growth actually happens. And honestly? It feels so much more satisfying than chasing something I’ll never reach.

Letting go of perfection also eases my anxiety. A lot of my fear comes from comparing myself to others, assuming they have it all figured out, and then feeling like I should too. But no one is perfect. And when I remind myself of that, I can breathe again. I can focus on my own path, my own process, without the constant pressure of trying to measure up.

So here’s what I’m learning: perfection is an illusion, but growth is real. By choosing growth over perfection, I give myself space to enjoy the journey; flaws, stumbles, and all.