My family is being traced back to my Polish ancestors. Apparently their name was Steczko. Apparently they came here sometime before WWII. Apparently they’re buried in Nakskov. We are three people left in the world with our modified version of Steczko. My father, sister and me. I often wish this world was more dramatic. More like an episode of Game of Thrones. I long for there to be something at stake. Honour, perhaps? Where is honour in the world of today? There’s fame. There’s wealth, surely. But I don’t think honour has survived. The only surviving relative of honour is reputation, and even that is not too important anymore. Just look at the various political elections around the world. As long as you shout louder and spend more than the competition, you’re going to win. I miss the dream of a rational world. I miss the dream of an ideological world. I miss a world that dreams.
It’s nine o’clock and I’m already heading to bed. I hate morning classes. Hate them. They leave me so fatigued the rest of the day. Today has been such a warm, bright day – and I have spent all my time indoors, doing group work, sleeping, escaping. I’m actively seeking exit signs. I want to step down, leave. Everything. I want real solitude. Not solitude in a city, solitude on campus. I want proper solitude, where my lack of human interaction is down to there not being anyone else around. I want no internet, no phone. I want to read and write. I want to know once and for all if I have the talents I’ve always envisioned myself as having. There are too many distractions here. Too much noise. I’ve never been able to concentrate when there’s just a scent of something else in the air. I need air that’s just air. Sound that’s just sound. Waves that only move water, wind and sand.