New Post, Who Dis?

I haven’t morphed, just evolved somewhat.

You may or may not have noticed I changed my username. I now go by what you see because I’m carrying less regret than what previously burdened my shoulders.

Life? Life’s being lived vividly I dare say.

My therapist kinda sucks so I’ve taken the liberty of trusting my gut (as always) and counting on the sweet release of chemicals thanks to my medication. Hashtag not sponsored but Prozac, hit me up. Truth be told, I think I have a clearer mind now that I’m shedding off my anxiety.

I’m doing things with a relative ease I didn’t possess. Here’s a list of things happening:

  • I’m going on a trip abroad. For anyone that knows/knew me, my distaste for experiencing other cultures is significant. Hey, it turns out I want to do things so I’m travelling to a country in Europe that shall not be named for internet’s sake
  • I’m doing a seminar and expanding my artistic horizons in a way I had never tried before. It had been a distant dream of mine as a teenager and now it’s kinda happening
  • I’m more open to expressing what I really think without censoring myself and worrying if people will like me. Suprisingly, people like me even though I’m weird in a ‘me’ way
  • I’m less worried in general
  • I’m happy?!

Placeholder People

My best friend and I talk a lot on the phone. It’s usually about how I’m incapable of understanding basic human reactions, about existential issues… you know, the typical stuff girls talk about.

I’ve never really had a friendship like that. Let me correct myself by being more direct. I’ve never had a friendship like this (I removed the word ‘really’ because I felt like it made the meaning of the sentence less important. It’s very important).

My entire life used to revolve around people that I somehow ended up befriending out of need, out of fear of being a weird freak while everyone else seemed to have the time of their lives by hugging and laughing and making connections with people and here I was, feeling more like this



Most of my teenage years were spent wondering if there are people out there that I’d really enjoy spending time with. Could I possibly be even remotely open about myself to someone without being scared of the villagers tearing my house down with their pitchforks? I’m kidding of course. I live in a metropolis, not a village, so my pursuers would probably be extroverted club-goers.

The friends I used to have filled a spot that I thought should be taken up by anyone available and my quiet existence filled the rest. In reality, I almost despised the people I hung out with. They weren’t bad people, they just weren’t my kind of people.

Surprisingly enough (and completely by chance), I met my best friend now. Let me tell you, it’s a miracle both of us became friends… me being picky and hardly ever liking people, her thinking I’m out to get her. Turns out we make a good team. A couple of years ago, I never thought I’d have one of those real friendships that Hollywood talks about, the ones where people share their problems and feelings! I’m still pretty fucked in the head when it comes to being open and chill but hey, I’m trying.

So, here’s to my best friend, a real friend.


Call Me By My Name

I have quite a few pet-peeves that make me instantly dislike a person and almost nothing can redeem them. One of the fastest ways of me declaring someone as an undesirable is the way they’ll interact with me in the simplest of ways.

The way they’ll use my name.

Where I come from, a name can morph. You can make it sound cute and adorable, you can make it bombastic and intimidating, you can even show that you’re familiar with someone, using it as a term of endearment.

I have a memory engraved in my head so vividly that it still pisses me off.

My grandmother and I were walking to the supermarket; I must have been around 4 years old. It was a hot summer day and it was all pretty lethargic up until that point.

A neighbor stops us and smiles at me. I was the first  grandchild of the family so I guess I was a novelty for my grandmother. The lady that had stopped us exclaimed out loud how much I looked like my father by jokingly using his name towards me. Yes, the child that was caught in a time warp. I was my father, still a child, their own local peculiar case of Benjamin Fuck-Off.

I don’t know why it pissed me off but it did. It offended me that I had to look like someone and couldn’t just look like me. I remember my brain’s inner monologue… I sounded like an appalled posh aristocrat.

It’s been a constant ever since, I don’t enjoy any desecration of my name. I might grin and bear it if there’s no other way but I find it disrespectful when my individuality is at stake.

So yes, I’d kindly ask you to call me by my name. No, not you dear internet person, for you will ever only meet my virtual footprint. For all of those out there in the real world, stick to the script I provided.



The Many Travels of An Introvert Schizoid


I still think that it’s a mighty strange coincidence that I happen to have all these so-called abnormalities. A sick taste of humor when it comes to genetics I guess… like a black hole with a gravitational pull destined to keep me apart from fitting in.

The first time I realized I was different was when I’d end up in tears every single year on my birthday because the attention and pressure was overwhelming, especially when the cake-cutting was taking place. It felt like the weight of the world was stepping on my throat and I’d try to appear chill about it but it was just too much for me to handle.

So here are some signs that might help you see if you’re an introvert (or hell, you might even be a new kind of strange, please join me in this wonderful lonely place!):

  • You find yourself having a lot of inner dialogue when you’re young
  • Showing even a tiny part of your true personality was just ammunition for the kids at school to make fun of you
  • Being extremely relieved when your friend(s) cancelled on you (instead of you cancelling once again on them)
  • Not knowing how to talk about what you feel to your friend(s)
  • Being much more connected to fictional characters than actual people because it seems like they lack a depth and intricate character arch
  • Wondering when you’ll know to what kind of type of person you’ll be attracted to, then realizing that this came automatically for most and realizing you’re even weirder, once again (hint: you’re attracted to really strange people)
  • Being able to retain a friendship even if you’d never see them again
  • Vacation means only talking to the supermarket cashiers and it feels good, man

I don’t know where my introversion begins and ends but I guess the best thing is accepting that you’re not doing anything wrong. We’re all different. In both bad and good ways. Being informed and aware of your behavior is what counts.

P.S. The title is ironic. The only time I’d travel would be if all the continents suddenly started to collide and form a united supercontinent.