“Have Candle in the wind written, went to London, bought a Rolls-Royce. Ringo Starr came to dinner.” So writes the British musician Elton-John in his diary in 1973 – a normal day in the life of a rock star. This is how our days should be: first write a world hit, then shop for a luxury car and meet famous people in the evening. Then we would also happily share our diaries with the world.
As lackluster and free of highlights as our lives are, we prefer not to do that. To be precise, we would not give out our diary for any money in the world, because what the contemporaries experienced in it could hardly be surpassed in terms of patheticness: “quarrel with the boss, children yelled at, mired in the net.” A mix of failure, sadness and lethargy. The partner is dismissive, the career in descent. You’re just glad that almost nobody notices what’s going on behind the scenes. But what would change if you unpacked your worries and needs more often?