Century-long Writer’s Block

You know what I need? An adventure. Some inspiration. Some change at least. And not simple change, change that jolts me awake.
I’m trying to write, writing is what I love to do but I feel like I’m having a century-long writer’s block. I feel so out of practice with it all that I doubt every sentence I write and end up not going very far at all.
I’ve heard that one of the rules if you’re just starting out is to write what you know. And that is just the problem. What do I honestly know? My life has been such smooth-sailing, there aren’t any distinguishable moments when I’ve felt acute love or grief. I know how to live in the middle-class, I know how to be quiet, I know how to be ungrateful for what I have, and I know how to fuck up. How to compile that into a story worth reading is beyond me.


Life makes me itch

Life makes me itch and squirm. It’s getting harder and harder, which is expected, but it feels as though my body isn’t growing accustomed to a higher threshold for hardship. It feels as though my body is instead rebelling, intentionally making itself weaker so I’m more sensitive than I really should be about inconsequential things. I feel things too strongly now, my mindset being that the happy things last only a minute and the bad things last forever. I’m blowing things out of proportions these days, my mum says I shouldn’t eat too much chocolate and I get resentful, thinking she’s fat-shaming me. I’m only at peace by myself. I get angry, angry, angry so often that it’s fortunate I’m usually alone. I feel broken down all the time even though nothing has happened to me and I really should be grateful for everything that I have. That’s another thing, the guilt at being constantly sad over nothing, it cloaks me, I carry it on my back everywhere I go, pissing myself off at how depressed I get in a not at all depressing situation. But I can not shake the sadness any more than I can shake the guilt.
I can not stand my family. Honestly, I’m never so angry as when I’m around them. And that’s really too bad. I have vague thoughts about how I might not like them as people if they were not my family and I wasn’t obligated to love them. The situation is no better with my ‘friends’, all of whom I feel uncomfortable and only a surface version of myself with.
I don’t know. It seems that I am either depression prone or I just need to develop a thicker skin. I’m hoping it’s the latter for obvious reasons. Hopefully this will end as one of those cheesy teen angst stories where ‘it gets better’ and I can look back on this from a better place in life.

This is pretty pathetic I know. But it is my blog.

Morals. Or a lack thereof

I find I’m in a constant state of confusion. I’m either thinking of myself as a conformist or as a hypocrite. I thought I had relatively clear-cut morals but nowadays, as they’re constantly so wishy-washy, what good are they? I thought I’d done enough self-exploration (so far) to know my limits. Apparently not. My stances on things are forever changing and if it were due to my becoming more learned, that would be a different case. But nope. I’ve noticed, as things become more acceptable, I become more open to them. Being very honest, I was pretty disappointed about this revelation about myself. I’d like to think it’s my mind expanding to the enormous scape that is the world but I don’t want to give myself excuses. I’ve never been strongly opinionated but this is a whole other level of being a pussy. I’ve tried to curb this bad attitude but frankly I’ve got so much else to do that self-development isn’t really high priority right now. I mean, I don’t beat myself up about it, since I’m still young, I’m constantly changing and not completely self-assured.
So, I’ve decided to give up on good and evil, for behaviorism (what up, Hannibal reference). No, not behaviorism actually. But I’ve decided to at least not proclaim that I’m either strongly for or against anything. Except very clearly wrong things like murder, abuse, racism etc. So I won’t feel like some sort of hypocrite if I switch sides on an issue, or decide to pick a side. Therefore, nothing will be in black and white, just in a sort of division between dark grey and light grey. At least for now. While I’m too busy with my overly spectacular life to think too hard.

Much love!

Kindly Ditch My Stereotype


I have come to realize that we, or at least I, am trapped by what my friends perceive me as. Not people in general, friends. I came to this conclusion during one of my thinky sessions about why I resent the company of my friends sometimes. As it turns out, it’s the stereotypes, otherwise known as ‘familiarity’.

As a human, I am subject to change. Unfortunately, I find I’ve been labeled with the same descriptions over and over. I don’t know if it’s my fault. It might be, I know that. Nothing I am dealing with now can be solely blamed on someone else. If I’m unconsciously sabotaging myself by acting in a certain way that yields certain results, it would not be surprising. I irritate myself at times when I act in the exact way I despise but it’s a reflex action I can not control unless I’m consciously trying. Or if I have a list detailing what people should think of me stuck on my forehead, and sometimes this seems entirely plausible, someone needs to rewrite that list. Or if everyone just doesn’t understand that they may not know me that well. This seems like the best option.

Therefore, let this be a public service announcement to all. I am quiet and comfortable in that fact but not every slightly outgoing thing I do means I’m ‘coming out of my shell’ or putting on some ‘good girl gone bad’ gimmick. Anyone still clinging to the ‘oh yeah she’s so shy!’ should be aware right now of how outdated they are, and how exhausted I am to still be putting up with it. I most definitely know myself more than you know me.

But it isn’t just about the quiet thing, though many will still involuntarily think of it as my dominant feature. It’s… hard to explain, it’s a certain kind of condescending attitude, I think. I think people just feel better about themselves around me by reflexively putting me down. Because they can feel better than me. It’s a pretty bad thing to do to someone. I am not the bottom of the rung people.

But I try not to take it personally by being neither hostile, nor a doormat. Everyone around me is changing too, this is a trying time in my life as well as others. Just adapt, people, and I’ll adapt too and be open to whoever it is you’re becoming.

Reasons why I am single Pt 1

I have mixed feelings about this post because as much as I want to do it, I got this concept from YouTube and I guess these kind of ideas belong on YouTube vlogs and channels rather than on a writer’s blog. But I’ll try to tackle it to the best of my expressive abilities. Also, I guess some people would see it as superficial because in a way, I’m putting this emphasis on relationships (dating) being super important and necessary and that, in a perfect world, I shouldn’t be single. And probably the most glaring factor of all, I’m a youngster (pardon the weird term). I’m not even legal yet so what could I really know about relationships right? Wrong. I’ll talk about it anyway.
Putting all these factors aside, I was browsing and watched someone’s ‘why I’m single’ vlog and though she didn’t really say anything that resonated with me, at the end she recommended that we (the internet at large) actually think about it, that we might be surprised by what actually comes up. So I thought. And my reasons were actually making sense. To me anyway. And I don’t mean reasons I voluntarily state out of relationships, it’s more why they don’t happen in the first place lol.
Anywayyysss, enough rambling, down to business.

1. My world is looks first, personality wayyyyy later. For the better part of my teenage life, I’ve only been exposed to relationships (dating, I feel I need to clarify) where the main factor of whether you like someone has a lot to do with their appearance. As shallow as it may sound, that’s how the relationships I know well were born out of. And for whatever reason, these relationships kinda worked. It’s only when I came to the UK that I saw that this whole ‘getting to know you’ and ‘friends first’ thing wasn’t just out of the movies. People here legit have to know you first before dating ensues. It’s just seems like the most tiring thing ever. I mean, if I went home (country-wise) right now, I could go to the mall and have a boyfriend in under an hour.

2.I am not expressive. This is something I am muchos certain of, my friends can testify to that with words like quiet, shy (I really hate that word btw), shy, shy coming up again and again. Frankly, I don’t think I’m shy, that is a really wrong word to describe me. I was shy when I was 12, 13. I haven’t been shy in years, I just don’t feel the need to proclaim my presence in every room I enter. But people interpret it as shyness so whatever. But, that aside, I’m not very vocally..eloquent? I’m very talkative on paper and I can ramble on but in person not so much. I feel I unintentionally switch to a different person incapable of holding a long conversation. I find that in my everyday life, what I say doesn’t really translate to who I feel I am inside, that I subconsciously adopt this pretty basic persona. So I don’t know how good a girlfriend I could be if I rather we dated through text messaging.

3. I hate commitment. I really detest them, it’s so irrational. I don’t mean the concept of committing to one person exclusively and not cheating and shit. I’m perfectly fine with that, I’m not especially promiscuous. It’s more, the whole obligation of it. It’s like, I’d want to be with someone exclusively because I wanted to and not because of this whole concept of ‘welcome to your relationship. If you want to stay in it, these are the rules. Don’t fucking break them.’ I don’t want to feel like I have to, so don’t act like my parole officer. It’s the same way I detest the fact that I have to love my family members (bit of an extreme example). It’s a weird thing to hate but I can’t help it. But I don’t see it as my inner ‘rebel’ talking, cause I don’t think I’m a rebellious person. So I can’t really explain that.

So. There will most likely be a part two because I’m not anywhere near done. The more I think about it, the more reasons I drudge up actually.
Much love!


I feel the nagging urge to post something but I’m not feeling the words right now. So I have shamelessly decided to recycle something I wrote like two years ago. Not on WordPress but in my journal.
Enjoy this little excerpt.

‘I am going to tell you the truth. No, not the truth that spares people’s feelings and thinks it knows what’s best for everyone. The real truth. The cold, honest to God, die-hard truth.
And what truth is that exactly? When I’ve been so very honest and innocent from the very beginning? When everything up until now has seemed so simple? Honestly, when I sift through my many thoughts and reactions and broodings and dreams, I’m not completely sure what what the truth is. Because I may make up my mind about one thing being true and it may not take the space of a heartbeat for it to change and I’m left wondering which one was actually right in the first place.
All I know for sure is that somewhere inside me, there is a truth. And just as equally, there is a lie. I can’t tell if at times, I’m deceiving people or if it’s just me changing.
So where do I begin? Anywhere really. Because I could pick any aspect of my life and start ticking off all the injustice I’ve done to all the people I’ve ever met. But maybe I’m just writing this to talk about one particular aspect. About the aspect that affects you. To explain all my reactions and moods and silences which have probably rubbed you off the wrong way. Because the last thing I ever meant to happen was to hurt you.
So really, I want to tell you the truth about my broken life so that you can understand that I never meant to break you too.’
Writing it back now, it seems so much darker.
Much love!



True shit.
Just wanted to post that pic, it’s really true to what I feel at this point in my life.
Not to be ungrateful, I’ve had a very fortunate life and I know God’s got me.
I’m just still waiting, I guess. It won’t be in vain, hopefully.
Too lazy to go on.
Promise a longer post this month!
Much love!

Stranger Flatmate

Hola! I think this is my second daily prompt post but as I still haven’t got the hang of this whole linking pingback thing, Lord knows if I managed to link it. Anyway, I’m to talk about the first person I met today and I honestly had to think about that one because today wasn’t very eventful. When I think about it, I’m surprised I managed to meet up to five people. I didn’t even properly start my day till 2.
So, the first person I met today was my flatmate, Shaleeni. That’s not how it’s spelt but it’s pronounced like that. I can’t remember how it’s spelt. Unless I’m actually right.
It was a pretty fleeting meeting. We said a quiet ‘hi with a smile’ as I was leaving my room and she was entering her’s. Though I think I stretched the experience a bit in my head because I was feeling quite glamorous and expensive this morning after dressing up, and wondered if she could notice (my thoughts around people range from very superficial to very insightful). So I was feeling all chic and refreshed after waking up at noon, and she looked as though she was regretting every minute she was spending out of bed.
We don’t really know each other, me and Shaleeni. We’re hi and bye acquaintances, bound together by a shared kitchen and vacuum cleaner. She’s pretty, and a nice person. And when I was still new and fishing for friends, I thought we could have been good friends in time. But as nice as people can be, when you don’t need new friends, you don’t try hard with new people.
I think I was quite unlucky in that respect. I started Uni late and by that time, most people had already made a socially acceptable number of friends and formed mini cliques and gangs. I thought did was pretty remarkable, considering these were first-years and they couldn’t possibly like ALL the first equally desperate friends they’d made in their first week.
I’ve gone off topic but as I mentioned, I don’t really know much about Shaleeni.
Much love!

An account of all my imaginary ink

http://daily post.wordpress.com/2013/12/01/prompt-tattoo/

This is my first post linked to a daily prompt. I’m supposed to talk about the meaning of my tattoos, and if I have none, what tattoos I want to get. Funny how I fit into neither of these categories. I don’t have any tattoos and I’m not supposed to say out loud that I want any. I’m a catholic (a very christiany denomination of Christianity) and it’s stipulated very clearly (so clearly you can’t loophole it) that you get any ink. Urrrgghhhh.
The thing is, even if I got any tattoos, I’ve always thought they’d be one with direct links to God. I wouldn’t tattoo my boyfriend’s face to my arm or a ‘get high !’ phrase to my back. I’d get tattoos of gorgeous quotes in places that still look okay when I’m 40. But I may not give in to my human urges (seriously, no loopholes. I’ve checked), I just have to be content with imagining all the awesome in kid get if I could (sob).
1. Let go, let, God- (on the insides of my wrists) of all the ones I wanna get, I guess the would mean the most to me. Because I’m the sorta person that needs the constant reminder.

2. A cross- (on the outside of my hand) like Demi lovato’s but totally NOT inspired by her. The cross is obviously symbolic and it’d look reaalllly cool.

3. Gott Sei Dank- (on the top corner of my back) it’s ‘God be thanked’ in German and the way I stumbled across it makes it seem totally meant to be.plus, for some reason, things always sound better in foreign languages.

4. Mea Culpa, Mea maxima Culpa- (on my forearm) it’s Latin for ‘my fault, my most grievous fault’. It’s a very dark sort of quote, almost abusive. It’s taken from the order of mass. It’s the sort of thing that prevents me from thinking too highly of myself.

And that’s it for now. Pretty sure the list will only get longer and I don’t know, maybe one day I’ll crack and just get a damn tattoo. Who knows, who knows.

Much love!


‘This is from a few months ago, but I never finished the post. Finally have!'”

“Love makes you a liar.”
Disclaimer: that’s from TMI:City of Ashes as well as many other lurvveeee novels I’m guessing.
A lot of quotes stick with me and I elaborate on them in my head. Or sometimes I don’t elaborate but I refer to them when I’m feeling in a philosophical mood. Anyway, as I stumbled on this yesterday (as I was casually reading city of ashes at 3am, RIP my sleep schedule). And what better place to share my thoughts on it than my very own blog that’s all about me, me, me and what I think, yada, yada, yada.
Now, I haven’t ever been been in love. Like romantic, sexy, lovey love. But I’ve read so many books and watched so many movies that I’m pretty certain I know what I’m talking about (right?) 😉
I can totally picture love making me a liar. It’s that instinct to protect, I imagine. Love seems like such a strange thing. It makes you do all these bad things that suddenly seem okay if you say it’s in the name of love. I don’t think love would make me a liar. I’m a liar, period. Not in the name of love but in the name of life.
You see, that could be why I’m quite anxious to experience l’amour. Not because I need a guy or whatever, I’m honestly just curious to see if I can actually shape myself to include someone else on such a personal level. Plus I wan to see if I change. Maybe I could be a liar in the name of love.