Ok, I am going to accurately tell you my very realistic fantasies for my own life, because it’s something that’s in my head a lot and you should write what you know, right? (oh yesssa, be prepared for clichés galore!).

I see myself in a house that I have designed myself, standing on its terrace and looking out on my farm in New Zealand. I am loved by everyone in the community for my kindness, wit, and whatever talents I have and I love myself for everything I am (maybe not the most original fantasy, but I just can’t deny it). I work as a neuropsychologist, an academic editor, a book author and I contribute to the daily work on the farm. I just magically have time to do all of that without being stressed. And I casually drink tons of white wine but seeing that doesn’t have any negative impact on my children and I am not an alcoholic - super chill. Oh yeah and I forgot, when I am on that farm, I am in my early 30’s and I have found the love of my life (something I'll refer back to, just wait).

Before that, I am doing my Ph.D. and I am being highly valued for the super important research I did (I’m not a narcissist, I swear; even though I don't seem to do myself any favours writing this in detail). I travel a lot for interesting collaborations and I’m not bound by any relationship; plus I earn so well that I can visit my family any time I want to. Because, to be honest, I already miss them when I am just 30 minutes away from them - and I decided that's a problem for my future self to work on, you're/I am welcome!

So then I am in my here and now. Already working three freelance jobs indeed and my most urgent and biggest fantasy is that I don’t have to move from one sublet to another every two months because some landlord finally appreciates that people can earn sufficient money without being employed at just one job. And all that love I am looking for I kinda see, but I am also putting restrictions on myself that I have to do this and that first before anyone can love me unconditionally (yes yes, I am my own best frenemy).

Regarding the last step of my fantasy, I am 26 right now - single - with ca. 3 years left in my training to be a behavioural therapist - that I have to complete in the city I live in now; so you can see how beautifully it all works out time- and travel-wise.

But you know, I can remember that exactly this was my fantasy once (uuuh I know, super unexpected twist). Something where I earn my own money; I embrace my spirituality; I figure out how to do things my way and not struggle to fit into other people’s paradigms; I am creative when I feel like it and I share it because I am proud that I am writing something after never feeling good enough to even try.

Well alright, back then I wanted to have kids when I’m 26 and that, obviously, did not work out. But you get the general sense.

So maybe, it’s not the most unlikely thing to stand on that terrace one day, surrounded by sheep (an important detail I forgot earlier - I just adore them for some reason and they don’t care about me at all; but I have enough love for all of us and they have to accept that).

Anyways, what I wanted to say (last cheesy thing, I swear): Keep going for it, people!*

*Unless for those dystopic fantasies please, because where focus goes, energy flows - just saying.

Oooh all those ‚what if’s. People imagine the most unbelievable scenarios, and feel comfortable with them because they are, only‚ what if‘’s. However far they go, whatever relationship they start, whichever countries they move to, it’s safe. Because it’s only in their imagination. It’s in my imagination too.

And I think it makes sense. You can explore every option and outcome of every scenario and situation. But, in the spirit of this challenge, I think it would be, in a different way, a crazy safe option to trust whatever’s coming your way. That it is something that’s right for you.

And, most likely, it’s something that you have never imagined.

Because even people that have the craziest ideas, never allow themselves to dream of things they actually deserve.

#challengeoftheweek

I can’t fucking believe it! Two overweight gorillas from security watched him, while he gathered the things from his office. Damn it, If they keep watching me I can’t get the booze from the other drawer. Why the fuck do they think I even need to be watched? All this shit is mine anyways, why do they bother what I do with it?

„Sir, it’s getting time. We have orders to escort you from the premises now“

How often did you have to practice before you could remember all those words, eh fatty? „Just give me one more second.“ Fuck, I should have stored the bottles in the lower drawer. He pretended to think about what else to collect from his desk, and slid the box to the lower left corner in the process. He got the bottles out without making a sound and put them on the floor. Then he bent down and put the box on the floor, pretending to unpack the lower drawers.

„Okay, I’m done“

„Good. If you’d please follow us outside.“

„Yes, thank you, I know the drill.“ I’ve fired enough people myself to know how it works. And when I come back you’ll be the first one to see how it’s on the other side, prick.

He followed the security guards out of his office on the 13th floor. Couldn’t they have fired me in the afternoon when all those lazy fuckers are home already?

The other workers stood up from their desks to watch the spectacle. He had to walk 15 meters to the elevators, then it would all be over. Some tried to look sincerely sorry, others didn’t made any effort to hide their smiles.

He couldn’t wait to get home to his 1990 Vintage Single Malt Scotch and forget the last 15 years he worked for the company. He’d drown everything, except the feeling of betrayal that grew stronger with every step. Fuck me, how did today turn into the walk of shame from Game of Thrones? And they don’t even know all the shit I did for them. Yea, just keep on smiling you stupid sheep. The lion will be back to get his share of the feed.

He stepped into the elevator, the security guards in the corners behind him.

When the doors started to close, he heard the people in the office beginning to applaud.

I’m lying in bed and I’m ready to go to sleep. Every night, I give myself permission to let lose so I do not ruminate about the real stuff that would just keep me awake.

So, to relax, I allow myself to imagine how I run into my ex and we connect again. But, for some reason, I always imagine myself as being seriously sick, or having experienced something traumatic. And over that he is then concerned and it makes him care for me, and we become close.

And during all of that, he usually has a girlfriend, but he doesn’t love her as much as he still loves me.

And I know how horrible that sounds, and every time, in between feeling comforted, I ask myself why I do this.

What does it say about me? Would I rather be about to die and see him again than living a life without him?

Do I think he would only leave the other girl he loves if he is about to lose me forever?

Do I always imagine him being in a relationship with someone else, because in my mind that is the only reason why he doesn’t love me back anymore?

Do I even love him or do I just want to be loved again by someone, but all I know is him?

Do I imagine myself in misery with a clear physical cause, so I can live out all of the pain I carry insight of me?

So, to calm myself down, I imagine myself with him again

because it’s the only thing that can give me comfort when I am alone with my thoughts.

And at some point, I get too tired to question all of this

and I can contently imagine us cuddling and falling asleep.

This is my version of self-imposed inevitable doom, at least the daily one.

It felt wrong. That it wasn’t there anymore.

Not like there was much to begin with, but nevertheless I could feel it every day.

It wasn’t a feeling of fullness like you have when you’ve eaten too much, or like when you really feel your abs after a good workout.

The only way I can describe it is that it was like a natural state, like my body has always been that way, from the first moment on. And the only way that state should have changed would have been if it gotten exchanged for the feeling of holding my baby in my arms and being proud seeing it grow more and more everyday outside of me.

I just felt empty instead.

He said he wouldn’t think less of me no matter what I decide, and I didn’t think less of him when he left me to make the decision all by myself. But I was sad, maybe angry, that he didn’t ask me to stay, and that he didn’t put any effort into trying to make me choose differently. Because with this, it gave me the feeling that it was I all by myself who gave up on everything. And that I just have myself to blame.