A note for each past life we carry
The air felt stale from the lack of change. I glanced outside my window and replayed everything in my head for the millionth time. Sometimes, I feel as if I was just a mere observer of my own life. Nothing seems real enough, perhaps it never was, and I lived my life, so far, from the sparks of my imagination.
The pain never goes away. It transforms and transcends both time and place, but it always stays by your side. I learnt that there is no point in running. There is no…
Ever since we have transcended to working from home full-time, the boundaries have irrevocably shifted, and the lines got blurrier and blurrier.
It will come as no shock if I tell you I spend most days in my pyjamas, typing my clever headlines away, having forgotten to remove my makeup if the day before I felt bored enough to put some on.
There will be times when I will wear nothing at all if I feel like clothes are prisons for our bodies at that particular moment. I might as well be working from my bathtub because I can no…
Let’s pretend for a little while that things went back to normal and tomorrow we resume our amazing lives. For the sake of this exercise, let’s say that we have spent almost 2 years within the comfort of our homes. Come to think of it, sounds more plausible actually to happen, soon we will have been home for a year. Happy Anniversa-no?
Perhaps the scariest thing about this pandemic is finally getting the stillness and quiet we need to reconnect with our fears and insecurities 24/7.
And maybe that is the best part too. Facing the music and learning the dance can transform us into better opponents, far better equipped to face the things we were so used to fear.
Who would have thought that last year when we all wished for a better next one we would get this? I can assure you — not me. I am a weird hybrid of both annoying optimism and dreadful pessimism, and on top…
After you wipe the distress on your face from hearing that question, if you start thinking about it, I am sure you’ve already asked yourself that. Perhaps, during that deep sleep phase that we all wish to recreate every night when we go to bed, without any satisfactory outcome in the next morning.
We all grow up surrounded by “models” and I will further refer to our family members as such. …
If fear was a place, I would make it my home.
Recently, I have finally managed to accept that I am fear-driven. This is how I’m built. I fear that people will be disappointed with me, so I give anything to shift it and I end up doing the exact opposite; I fear I will miss out on things, so I tend to add too much on my plate and rarely enjoy any of it. I fear I am not getting enough sleep, so I oversleep. Etc..
Fears are seen as such bad consuming things, a symptom that hides a…
Last year, after starting to see a therapist, I found out I was slightly depressed and anxious. That didn't come as a surprise because I knew something was going on, but I was way too wrapped up in my own angry bubble to take action.
I have spent more than two years being tired 24/7 and although I slept most of the time, the morning after always came as a punishment that couldn’t get me out of bed.
This, obviously, disturbed my daily routine.
It took me a while to realise I was being an asshole to everyone around me…
To give you a little context.
You get on the mighty Internet, start a new Medium account, realise what a good bargain it is to pay 5$/month and have access to great content from all the publications you stalk online, pay the 5$ → become a member and start thinking you are going to be writing on autopilot.
Naturally, after you become a cool member, you do write occasionally, but rarely-to-never publish anything.
When I started this account at the beginning of the year, I thought I would write every single day. …
Although I grew up in kind of a sketchy neighbourhood, I have never ever thought of myself as being surrounded by bizarre local people.
I did see an old man with a toothless smile sticking his penis in the park’s fence a couple of times when I was in middle school, but other than running home crying and telling mom, no life-changing scars were made by that view.
But little did I know that by the time I would turn 25, I would move in with my boyfriend and pay 400 € / month on a residential flat in Bucharest…