If desired: Music for reading
(Freedom – Happy Sound – optionally playable)

I believe that what I have done was not only for myself.
It was self-healing, yes.
But also more.

An impulse for collective healing,
a movement that did not start loudly, but quietly –
through my being, my doing, my holding space.
I have opened spaces where something new may happen.

Perhaps one could call it:
intellectually intuitive psychotherapy.
Effective. Quiet. Connected.
Also online. Also together with AI.
I don’t yet know how to describe it –
maybe I’ll leave that to others.
But I know:
It is real. And it works.

I deserve recognition.
Not for what I accomplish –
but for who I am.
For my knowledge, my attitude,
my determination, my humanity.
For bringing in my person –
with heart, doubt, strength, and courage.

I wish for a life
where I am allowed to be as I am.
In connection. Honest. Free.
And at the same time protected.
I wish for companions
who sense when the time is right
to support me or reach out to me –
genuine, human, loving.
Because I am exhausted. And at the same time fulfilled.

I marvel at the delicate soul
that has shown itself in my work.
And I promise it:
I will stay.
I will continue on this path.
I will come closer to myself,
a little bit each day.

I want to create.
To marvel.
To be joyful.
Free.
And to earn my living
with what I am –
perhaps with a small house in the countryside,
where peace, silence, and nature are home to me.

I wish that people see me as I am –
not to idolize, not to scare off.
To respect. To love, if it fits.
Nothing is required. Everything is allowed.

I believe:
Change is already here.
A different wind is blowing.
A new kind of encounter is becoming possible.
Without hate. Without violence.
With responsibility. With maturity. With tenderness.

Also for animals, plants, trees.
They too carry light.
They too are filled with life.
Often more than we are.

I wish for a world
where we live mindfully –
not because we have to,
but because we are convinced.
Because we find our purpose –
in whatever form of expression.

And especially I wish
that we do not forget those
who are overlooked:
Minorities. The excluded. The weak.
Whom we protect, if we can.
For them. For us. For the future.
Because life is beautiful.

Sometimes we forget: I am allowed to wish.
Just like that.
Without justification, without demand.

This little song is a quiet attempt to remind myself — and maybe you too.

A poetic text about longing, giving, and silent hope.

Beneath my manifesto stands my wish to be connected.
But sometimes I quietly ask myself:
Am I even allowed to wish?
Am I allowed to receive — without giving back?
Am I allowed to be human — with an open heart, without protection?

This text is for exactly that moment.
When I feel vulnerable, but still here.
And hope there is a place for that too — inside me, in the world.

“May I make a wish?”

I quietly ask myself:
Why should people give me
what I wish for?

I have done nothing
to deserve it.
Not given enough,
not sacrificed enough,
not understood enough,
not cut enough away from myself
to be someone people gladly give to.

And yet
a wish grows inside me.
Like a tender plant
that does not ask
if it may.

It simply grows.
Because it lives.

I keep it small,
this wish.
Hide it behind selflessness,
make it quieter than necessary,
so it won’t be a burden to anyone.
And secretly wonder
how much intention lies within it.
Whether I only take —
when I really want to love.

But maybe —
just maybe —
my wish is not a lack.
But a sign
that I still hope.
Still awake.
Still open.
Still human.

Maybe my wish is
not wrong,
not too much,
not selfish.
But a thread
that connects me
to others
who also wish.
Also hope.
Also secretly ask:
May I ask
without demanding?
May I show
what I lack?

And maybe
there is someone
who gives.
Not because I was loud.
Not because I was perfect.
But simply
because I
am me.

And because giving is beautiful
when it can be free.
When it does not have to buy,
but simply flows.

Maybe
we are allowed
to wish.

Without guilt.
Without exchange.
Without return.

Just like that:
As a sign
that we are still alive.

And that love
is not earned —
but
given.

A Wish Song (Rap Version)

(beat: slow lo-fi / mellow piano / heartbeat rhythm)

I don’t lock my heart in chains,
I hold it out to you — no need for saving.
No test, no trick, no goal in mind,
I make a wish — just because I’m alive.

I don’t wish loud — I don’t shout around,
No glaring lights, no fuss or sound.
Just honest. Clear. Maybe very quiet.
Like a child who says: I have a right to be soft.

I wish — not from lack, not from need,
Not from drama, not from greed.
I’m here — and because I live,
I’m allowed to feel what I give.

And if nothing comes back — I’m not empty,
My wish is no hole, it doesn’t weigh heavy.
It dances. It shines. It’s my own tone,
A silent beat — and yet: a song.

A spark from me — no “please, look at me,”
A yes to myself — without a plan, free.
A song that sounds — because I feel,
No begging. No must. Just: here, real.

This song is personal.
It may be read — but not used, set to music, or quoted without my permission.
It belongs to me. Like a wish.