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?!

Do You Need Religion?

This spiritual connection I’m supposed to have has been forever eluding me ever since I was born. Truth be told, it’s not the only thing I can’t wrap my head around but for this post’s sake, let’s pretend I’m fully functional.

This place I live in is generally perceived as religious and people still cling to traditions of the olden ages. It’s funny how my mind immediatelly equates religion with being narrow-minded. I know it’s not the case for most religious people but it’s different here.

Personally, I felt left out when I was young for not understanding (or wanting) a belief in something beyond being human. The Orthodox religion seemed strict and scary, the saints pictured along the walls looked like gaunt mummified remains and the church smelled weird. This of course pertains to a specific dogma and I would like to include belief in general.

Do we need to believe in something higher to feel complete? Or has that idea been forced on us because we started off as explaining the wonders of our universe through tales and crazy stories.

Does this abyss inside us exist? The one that needs to be filled with a God or Gods? Is a divine being just a prank that started thousands of years ago when some person wrote a joke on a scroll?

I think that our consiousness likes to torment ourselves, either by being scared of heaven and hell, or just wondering in vain what created the Big Bang. Either way, we’re all different and right in our own way as long as that opinion is stated eloquently and democratically, without excluding those that oppose you.

We don’t need any more divide.

So, do you need religion?

A Family Tree That Needs A Gardener

I decided to write about my family, more specifically the mental issues many of my relatives faced or face, mostly in an attempt to make some sense of what is hereditary or not. In order to understand myself, I have to see what my genetic information is made of.

My mother grew up in an unstable household and she craved a family bond that was never there. She’s a great mother to me. Unfortunately, she struggled with eating disorders during her young adult life because she needs to be in control of something, even at this age. She’s somewhat neurotic and strives for perfection. Sometimes her fixation with food and my well-being makes me angry because she comments on my fitness in a way that feels mean-spirited.

My father is the middle child and has always tried to do things his way but at the same time, he cares too much about people’s expectations. I think he feels that he hasn’t accomplished much compared to his older sibling. I know that he feels depressed but he hides it by being bitter at things. His childhood was him being ignored by his parents while they babied their eldest son.

My grandfather probably had what is now called PTSD. I overheard a conversation my father was having. Apparently, sometimes my grandfather would walk outside and was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice people waving at him. He was in the Second World War and had a gun pointed to his head. He was saved when a fellow soldier shot the German. It was a cool story to hear but it never occured to me to think why he told it so often or why he was so quiet after saying it. In many ways, we are alike. He was honest and funny and didn’t apologise for being himself.

My grandmother is somewhat of an enigma because she has no personality, except for many being a bitch and only caring about what others will think of her. She has some form of dementia so everything is nice and dandy for her because she doesn’t know what she’s done. Anyway, that’s another story. I think she was a product of her time, what women should be. Back then, she was destined to be a wife and a mother and that’s it. One time, when I was a child I made her cry by telling her that women didn’t have to be quiet and coy. I used to love her.

There have been many cases of untreated shit that’s gone on for too long, so I’m hoping to make a change. My family is a strange one but the moments that shine the brightest are when we’re laughing all together, telling stories in our typical fucked-up sense of humor.

I just… need to set some things right with myself.

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.


I Think Everyone’s Mission Is To Push Me To My Limits

I’ve been trying to focus on this one song that calms me the fuck down because it has the perfect harmonies, perfect I tell you!

There’s a tightness around my chest and throat that doesn’t go away and my eyes are on the verge of tearing up all day long. It made for a poetic image this day while I was walking to work with a big coat on, you’d almost think I was French. This is me talking about my day-to-day life instead of rambling on about a loose idea or opinion. This is my actual life, just like the one you have.

Anyway, I have a terrible relationship with my sister. I’m not an easy person to be around when you’re the complete opposite and I know how to make my words sting like a papercut when I want to put her in her place. But I’ve tried very hard to turn this thing we have into something that could work.

I tried being carefree and bright (if you can believe it). I wanted to do fun activities, just so we can learn to become friends. We come from the same background and practically same experiences up until our teenage years. We never had anything in common but the path split up and led into completely different territories.

She thinks I’m terribly insecure about my life. Truth is, I’m very happy about where it’s at… I’m insecure about people stealing my happiness away just because my way of doing things is different.I’m tired of everybody bringing me down now that I’m up. Being down was my entire existence for pretty much my entire teens years. I’m somewhat tired of explaining myself, of justifying what makes me happy.

I don’t have the words to express how confused and attacked I feel.

This post was supposed to be longer, there was supposed to be some conclusion but I’ve got nothing.


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.