A while back I wrote about solitude. I wrote about how I grew to enjoy my own company enough to avoid relying on other people. I have only just realized that the reason I started to like my solitude was because I had a lot of time to fall in love with it. Today I realized that the reason I distract myself with tv series like ‚That 70s‘ Show’, ‚Skins‘, ‚Misfits‘ and ‚The Inbetweeners‘ was because I lacked support from my own friends. It was comforting to watch a group of friends relying on each other and laughing when things went wrong. I have spent 2 years watching episodes about what I yearn for the most.

I have had friends come and go due to the circumstances you meet when studying at an international school. And I’ve had to leave them when moving to another country. Yet even now, when supposedly the friends I currently have are meant to give me a sense of security as they are meant to be friends for a lifetime, I feel alone. After an experience at a house party, I stopped going to them. That led to stop being invited to them. So the ‚friends‘ I had made through them stopped being people I could disconnect with. The friends that live in different countries have become harder to contact and the friends I am surrounded with don’t know how to be the way they used to be around me. Through stressful situations, I grew detached from them. And no one has reached out enough for me to feel the support I once had. I have lost a lot of people because I stopped trying. And they haven’t tried since. At least not enough. That’s another reason for why I started this blog. It became an outlet of my personal thoughts, the ones I stopped sharing. The thought of WordPress being a community always attracted me to it. I thought I could fill the space that grew within me these past few years. And I realized that as long as I wait for someone to do it, it won’t be filled. I wish to someday look back at this in my apartment, surrounded by friends, drinking wine, and sharing the platform that made me vulnerable, yet the person sharing this with them.



“Also, the girls’ tournament is at the same time in the same place” he stated


“The girls’ uniforms for volleyball are 😉, I mean they have very short tight pants”

I felt confused and surprised as the comment came after the words “I love you”

“I mean their asses will look good”

But then I felt inferior.

“But yours still wins sorry” He added to fix it. “#pervertalert”

“Please don’t comment on my body like that, especially when you’ve just mentioned other girls’ bodies”

“Sorry,I was just trying to throw a compliment. You used to like it and now…”

“No” I added with disgust. “I love genuine compliments the way anyone would. But not when its about my ass after you’ve commented on other girls with a hashtag calling yourself a pervert.”

And that’s the problem. Women are constantly ‘complimented’ by the act of comparison between the individual and the surrounding women. As someone who has lived life proving myself I am worthy of myself, and that it is enough, comparing me to other women to identify my significance is wrong. Because if I am “beautiful” compared to the girl on my left. What will i be compared to the one on my right? I, like every other person, am amazing because of the qualities I’ve gathered and the person I’ve earned to be recognised as. And commenting on someone’s physical appearance in a raw manner and made greater by adding that it is better than other girls, takes my individuality away and isolates me because you have not gotten to know the remaining people you could see as options.

I feel beautiful. I love my freckles. I love my average brown eyes. I love my subtle dimples by the arch of my smile. I love my body even in winter when it grows. But I don’t love it because these things are superior compared to other girls. I love them because they are accompanied with other features you have not taken the time to recognise.

But if you call me beautiful because i have “nicer ass than the other girls” it makes me worry that I have to be in competition with everyone else to keep you. I will from then on, fear showing you the things that make me inferior compared to said women, because I will no longer be beautiful to you.

The first time we talked, he said:

“I really like talking to you. I can’t really explain it. But you are somehow real. And mature. And smart. And fun. Unlike others.”

The last thing he said to me was:

‘But you girls are all the same. That’s what I realised. You want what you can’t have. That’s just too damn bad. And when someone finally is willing to give you that it suddenly becomes boring. Being like *name* or *name* would get me much further probably. You know what? Fuck it. I’m leaving an a year so who cares”

When I said I couldn’t return the feelings he had for me, he took what got me to smile every time. And the thing that made him want to see me smile, and used it against me to convince himself he could move on since the thing that made him stay was no longer there.


Something I wrote when I was 16.



After collecting envelopes and keeping every letter I have ever been given, I began writing my own. At the age of 14, after my father’s mother passed away, I wrote him a letter asking for us to stay in the city we lived in. He was impulsed by his loss to change his life, almost to catch up to the change that he couldn’t control. I don’t think I have ever appreciated writing as much as I did when confrontation seemed as hard as it did those few months. So I decided to write more. The first one had to be to the teacher who changed my life.

Dear Miss Curtis,

I will admit that I’ve been afraid of emailing you since I feel like you might not remember me. I have been wanting to email you every day for the past 2 years. I just didn’t know exactly what to say. But I guess I’ve had enough time to think about it. I just wanted to say that, to this day, you’re always the person I talk about when I’m asked to give a presentation or give a speech about my idol or role model. I think you’re the person who made me believe in myself the most out of everyone who has encouraged me to write. You have made me passionate about most things I have come to be. I wanted to email you when I had something to make you proud of, maybe when my book was published. But I noticed I keep setting dead lines for things I’m not sure will happen anytime soon. I wanted to thank you again for the way you taught me and the indirect messages you gave out as if you didn’t notice the impact it would have on my life. I still hope you keep teaching because I can’t imagine you not causing the effect you had on me on other people. There are a lot of things I have to thank you for but I still don’t know how to explain them. Thank you so much for everything you did without noticing how important it was.

We’re all waiting to be discovered

We’re waiting to be found. We want our blog to be found, our articles to be read, our films to be seen and our names to be known.

It’s a long and slow process. We have conversations that we’re told to offer in a form of art. We are told we’re passionate and we’ll get far. Our friends will encourage us and our families will be proud. But we are terrified that we won’t be seen outside of our circle. We start Youtube channels, start websites. Some upload their songs on Soundcloud and share it on Facebook. Some share it on Twitter and give out our URLs. But we want more.We write our books doubting their reaction and forget why we started. We forget that we always wanted our work to be someone’s favourite. We apply to university hoping it will be a step forward. It’s a way to fill up space while we grow in views and figure out the next big step.

There are days when you can see your future and days when you feel stuck. Days when you’re inspired and days when you’re drained. Being surrounded by people who have their next step figured out made me feel like I wasn’t going anywhere. Until I realised I plan on going somewhere else. I plan on doing something different. I plan on figuring it out while I’m lost. I want the comfort of knowing where to go next, but I forgot to be excited about what I’m doing now.

We will get discovered. Even if it’s by 5 people who love your writing and don’t just like your posts to get the likes in return. We will use this platform until we know how to grow further. We will use what we have now and expand on our ideas. It takes time. And so much motivation. We need to stop comparing ourselves to other artists and to avoid fearing the number of individuals trying to reach the same goal. Remember that you didn’t start this to win a competition. It was never about people buying your work over other pieces or being the most liked ‘influencer’. We need to rely on our own inspiration and our own vision and avoid needing outsiders’ views to get to our next step.

I’m still trying to figure mine out.

After an Anxiety Attack

People often talk about how to cope during an anxiety attack. There are articles, blog posts and tips on buzzfeed. They tell you to breathe onto your thumb. To meditate. To just breathe. They’ll tell you to go to therapy and mention alternative methods. But I have never been told what to do after it’s over.

I think that the period you go through after it’s over can be harder. It drains you and you’re consumed with the fear of having another one if you don’t keep your breathing constant enough to not fall apart again. You begin to doubt whether you feel unlovable or if you just can’t love yourself. These are the things I do to feel like myself again. To fix myself.

  1. I play music. Music without lyrics before I play my favourite songs. The ones I save for situations where I need the comfort the most. While they play, I look for pictures of myself when I was 5 years old. I think that was the stage where I felt the most loved. I look at it and can’t help but love her. Once I gain part of myself back, I look at pictures of myself when I was 14. I initially get angry. I get so frustrated because she didn’t know she would be treated the way she was. Right after that, I look in the mirror. And I get all of the love I needed back. I look at the person all the other pictures didn’t know I would become. And I feel like I did my best to protect 5-year-old me. And I became stronger than my 14-year-old self. I realise that I am proud of who I have become.
  2. I look at something bigger than my situation. That ranges from the moon to a tree in front of my balcony. Focussing on something greater than my temporary feelings helps more than I could explain on a blog post. It’s truly overwhelming to feel fixed without realising you were trying to do it.
  3. I watch ‘One day at a time’, ‘That 70s show’ or ’The Real’. Watching other people makes my current state feel less significant, shifting my focus onto something fixated on being mere entertainment.
  4. I let out whatever I was scared of letting out and close my eyes while laying in my bed. Always surrounded by pillows. And I text the person I need. The person that can cheer me up after understanding my current state.

24 Hour Read-a-thon 

One of my ‘February Goals’ was to read without feeling guilty of the way it consumes my time. So I have decided to have a 24 hour period this weekend where I’ll try to read these books:

Books vs Cigarettes

George Orwell



Ellen Hopkins


Down and Out in Paris and London

George Orwell


Hear the Wind Sing

Haruki Murakami


Some Thoughts on the Common Toad

George Orwell


The Alchemist

Paulo Coelho



I will attempt to read from 00:00 Saturday until 00:00 Sunday and I will try to get people to join me,


Long Distance Lifestyles


I have maps all around my room. It isn’t just the sense of adventure. But an emotional attachment to view everyone I love spread out on a paper canvas. I see my friends all over the picture. Spread out. Distant but together. I see my family to the west. And I’m far on the right. And then there are pictures. The ones with those near me. And those far away.

But the settings on the images change and translate the idea of time and place. A distant position. So the maps in my room remind me that there is a way to have them all in one place. Besides within my being, in a physical aspect. And no matter who’s map or whichever map: whether it is in someone’s room, or a brochure, it always holds the people I love. And it’s comforting to know that we all fit into one image.



The thing is, being in a temporary setting makes you vulnerable and willing to detach yourself of the people surrounding you. But you can’t, because it no longer becomes just that: temporary. So you hold on to them with all of your being. You grow together no matter how much time you have together. Because it’s always more than you thought it would be. Because at the end of the day, everything is temporary, but some things are heartbreaking to view as such. So avoid worrying about your feelings when you have to say goodbye, and realise that there is a reason beyond all of that towards the reason you feel that pain: they are worth it. So love them even more, use the ideals of time and compact or condense those feelings into the managed time. Love with all of your being. And you will see beyond that time frame, and you will see the people, their impact, the place in your life, and not the year they were physically part of it.