Something written again... What should I do, who should I be? What is in my capacity? The time will run, the days go by. A life does pass, oh, way to fast. And then becomes to short. Will anything that I will do ever be enough? I ask these questions every day. But answers… They come not. . . . But suddenly, A ray of light. I see first dim, then clear so white. I wonder…. Can I reach, or will I start to burn? And should I dear to try? I reason for a little while… Then leap into the sky. . . . Well, just to be clear, I have no knowledge of poems, at least not the theory of them, so this one does not follow any rules.. I'm just trying to express myself. Yeah...

What is life all about? What is this life all about? When we are young, we believe life is about finding love, starting a family and living happily ever after, as they put it. But, as we grow up, the reality slowly gets clearer, and the answer slips away from our sight. How can we find out what that is right, when the world is so wrong? I guess the answer is different and unique for everyone, if there were only one, we souls have found it already. But I'm far away from finding mine, and it feels like it's getting further away every day that pass. I don't mean that I'm not happy with what I got, and who I am (to a certain degree), but I can not see the meaning behind my life. It's not enough to reproduce, because there is already plenty of people on this planet, and one or two more would make little difference. It could be to make a difference in the world, but is that enough? Would a small gesture, that is soon to be forgotten, be enough? What do you think is the meaning of your life?

En blå silhuett. Trenger kritikk. En krøpelig sjel med blå silhuett, Mot frost i morgengry. Alene... Fortapt Vandrer blant høye, sorte trær. Følger de vakre, hvite. Lokkes dypere, Trangere inn i mørkets gap. Ensom. Legeme av is, Fanget. Et gitter av følelser, Stengt inne. Den andre siden, Blender deg blind. Tom Et evig skuespill, fortapt. Knust i biter, Og kastet. Piken i speilet, Med døde øyne. En blå silhuett, Fortapt, Ensom, Tom. Nå sort Mot en blodrød, Sørgende, Nattehimmel. Kanskje rart å skrive på norsk når jeg er norsk. Men trenger kritikk. Kan jo alltids bli bedre innen sitt eget språk.

こんにちは。 こんにちは。 どうぞよろしく。 わたしのなまえはオレセンベアテです。 かぞこのりょうしんとあにが3人とわたしです。 わたしはあにめをかくがだいすきです。 さようなり。

"I look at you" text I look at you from this far away and safe distant. I always will. Not because you're radiance repels me. I fear for my hearts safty... I can't see how I deserve you're attention. I love you're qualitys, but I admire you're faults. This was an atempt to write something poetry-likey, I don't know what genre it would be in. Could someone please correct it?

First notebook entry: Introducing myself Konichiwa o-namae ha Yngvild Beathe Olsen