I wrote a short text today for language practice. It's one of those things where in the end you wonder if this is not some deep psychologic babble. I'll let you judge, here is the translation:
I was writing a letter when I heard a sound. I went outside the room and opened the door. Nobody was outside. I went back to the room and sat down on the chair. I heard the sound again. I stood up from the chair and looked out the window. It was raining. I said to myself: "It's nothing. Only the rain." I looked at the clock. It was two minutes past eight. I had to stay up until midnight. Unfortunately, I had already been awake since two o'clock in the morning on the previous day. I don't know why, but I cannot sleep well. Maybe it is because I always think about things that happened days and years ago, and I cannot forget things that are far in the past. It was raining outside, and it was dark. I heard the sound again and again, until I noticed that it was only in my head. Relieved, I went back to the letter.
It may be bullshit, or I may be insane. Probably both.
I was writing a letter when I heard a sound. I went outside the room and opened the door. Nobody was outside. I went back to the room and sat down on the chair. I heard the sound again. I stood up from the chair and looked out the window. It was raining. I said to myself: "It's nothing. Only the rain." I looked at the clock. It was two minutes past eight. I had to stay up until midnight. Unfortunately, I had already been awake since two o'clock in the morning on the previous day. I don't know why, but I cannot sleep well. Maybe it is because I always think about things that happened days and years ago, and I cannot forget things that are far in the past. It was raining outside, and it was dark. I heard the sound again and again, until I noticed that it was only in my head. Relieved, I went back to the letter.
It may be bullshit, or I may be insane. Probably both.
