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It's hard to write things down that are real, and honest. When I've forced myself in the past, they are immediately deleted or thrown away in a surge of fear. This is about my tenth attempt to leave a paragraph for longer than 30 seconds.

I'm not honest with anybody, myself included. So the act of exposing myself to strangers is meant to relieve the burden of my secrets in some small way. Let's hope it works.

I'm a virgin. I have a skin condition that struck in puberty that left me scarred in more invisible ways than visible. Oh but it scarred me.

Hidradenitis suppurativa. Appeared along my inner thighs and along my butt crack. Exactly what a 13 year old girl needs at a new school, in a new country, swamped by strangers under the mantle of Family.

I kept it to myself of course. Not that i didn't have a supportive mother who would have done anything to help. I guess it just never occurred to me that I could ask for help.

I'm not wired that way. I tend towards the sharing is burdening others unnecessarily and besides which, makes you seem weak, school of twisted thought. I came up with that little mantra by myself, somewhere in my absolutely blissful childhood.

It isn't supported by any evidence and I didn't experience some trauma that made me that way. The condition warped the way I saw myself and left me with deep intimacy issues, platonic and romantic.

Well I mean that was 10 years ago. 10 years is long enough to fuck yourself up thoroughly.

No friendships because I convinced myself nobody could ever like me and so I pushed them all away, hard enough that they stopped trying? Check.

No romances because it would only get so far in the friendship stages before I would remember my defective and disgusting body and quash anything more? Check.

Taking five years to tell your family about your condition, only after your older sister has horrific deep skin removal surgery complete with grafts, in a response to the same disease? Check.

The daily anxiety over H.S. morphing into a monster of generalised anxiety and depression that you still kept hidden until several breakdowns and dangerous coping methods forced you to confess and crawl for help? Check x2.

I guess what I'm saying is, I'm a mess. I can't cope on my own. You, my invisible, silent and, hopefully nonexistent reader are gonna keep my secrets so I don't have to anymore.


from Matt

the writer ... speaks to the intellect and heart of mankind, to all in any age who can understand him.

— Thoreau


from frvl's blog

Here I am sitting at my desk after half an hour of reading, thinking and copy-pasting. I've imported my old blog posts!


from processimagining

quote from alfred north whitehead, process and reality

we must investigate dispassionately what the metaphysical principles, here developed, require on these points, as to the nature of God. There is nothing here in the nature of proof. There is merely the confrontation of the theoretic system with a certain rendering of the facts...Any cogency of argument entirely depends upon elucidation of somewhat exceptional elements in our conscious experience—those elements which may roughly be classed together as religious and moral intuitions. ~343.

#metaphysicalprinciples #god #imaginativegeneralization #imagination #reason #alfrednorthwhitehead


from frvl's blog

We live in a world of deadlines, taking breaths in between. We rush from one to the other, never really living our lives.


from Renee's Truth

Renee's Truth n.1

I have never thought I would find myself in this oddly uncomfortable position. In the position I swore I would never push myself into, not even for the most exciting and breath-taking of feelings out there. That electrifying, sweep-out-off-your-feet kind of Love. Not even then. And I am not talking (only) about anal sex here.

But you know, life happens.

And, eventually, you end up doing a lot of things in your life that you swore you would never do.


Because that's who we are. We, humans. We narcisstically pride ourselves in so many things, yet many of us fail to realise how unpredictable we are. We change our minds all the time. Because of various reasons. We decide, and then we decide again. And many times it benefits us, and we are so glad we made that right decision. And many times we decide and our decision carries the most undesirable consequences. We regret, we maybe hate ourselves for a while, and then eventually move on with a hope that the next decision would be the right one. And usually it is.

Some of us are like that. And I secretly admire you.

But some of us are so afraid of bad decisions that they rather don't make any.

In the first adult years of my life, when I finally got out of the house of my fucked up parents, I was obsessed with choosing the right path for myself. I was obsessed with not repeating the mistakes my parents made in their lives, yet in my young foolishness I didn't go as far as to realise that mistakes, however small or big, are inevitable. As (clinically) depressed as I was, still a fucking perfectionist at that time, I left the town I was born in, in order to figure out, what the hell do I want to do with my life. I left everything behind, lying that I need a gap year before a university.

God knows, it was not the truth. Not entirely, at least.

The months had passed by and I found myself torn between who I wanted myself to become and who people thought I am and who they wanted me to become. Sounds like the biggest cliché in the world, but honestly, I think all of us go through that phase in our lives.

But me... I fucked it all up. Everything. I ended up doing some pretty stupid stuff, trying to balance my old life and the life I wanted to live. Stuff that only appear courageous and spontaneous and worth admiration when you fully dive into them. When your whole soul and body and mind is leaving everything behind and pursues the thing you feel you need to go for. But they look stupid and awkward when you don't commit fully, when you want to have both. When you want to satisfy your old self and invite the new one in the process.

However, you can't have both. It doesn't work that way. Most of the time, to avoid doing 'bad' decisions as my family and teachers and friends called them, I did not make any my heart pumped for. I lingered in that space between old-me and new-me, sometimes being all into those things my family considered stupid and foolish, only to chicken out at the last minute. I did not decide. Because I did believe them, I did know, somewhere deep in my heart, that it might ends badly. Unsuccessfully. That I might be hurt in the end. (Remember that part about being a perfectionist? I thought I was not good enough.)

So, after lingering in that deaf space for more than a year, my depression getting more and more serious, I gave up. Yep. I gave up my artistic aspirations of becoming a professional fashion designer and settled for something “safe and not full of disappointment” as my father called it.

I settled for being a teacher.

A teacher. (rolling eyes)

The first thing on my list of the things I swore I would never do.


So, yeah. At first, I couldn't believe I was giving up. But, eventually, as my mother forced me to finally agree with medication for my deepening depression, I somehow persuaded myself into settling for less than I wanted for my life.

For the first time in my life.

I applied for an Education course at Cambridge just because my uncle said I could never get there (which I secretly believed) and – much to mine and my family's surprise – I was offered a place. Well, I have never been a bad student.

So, I finally made the decision. But I was never happy with it. I settled. Again a thing I swore I would never do.


What my family now considered a 'right' decision, was the first I felt like was the 'bad' one.

But it made my old self happy. It was not a mistake in my eyes. I did not really fail, I told myself. And my new self? Well, I comforted her with occasional pads on the shoulder, saying: “Don't worry, maybe something happens, some movie-like miracle, and you will get your happy ending.”

But you know, in time I realised one thing. One single, important thing I was denying all along. In her book 'Big Magic', Elizabeth Gilbert quotes another writer Mark Manson: “If you truly want to be a professional artist, but you aren't willing to see your work rejected hundreds, if not thousands, of times, then you're done before you start. If you want to be a hotshot court lawyer, but can't stand the eighty-hour workweeks, then I've got bad news for you.”

Yeah, as painful, as it is, the lazy perfectionist in me refused to eat the shit sandwich that comes with it.

Now, I cannot blame anyone but myself.

So, yeah, this is the way you end up doing bad decisions. I mean, really bad, because when your sense of self-esteem is shattered and your values are almost non-existent, you have nothing to guide you. No intuition. No gut feeling. No vision and no aim. You just do what makes you either:

a.) numb the pain b.) feel at least a little bit alive

So, this is the story of how I found myself in the position I had sworn I would never find myself in. Please, understand, that my life was not bad, there were more stereotypical and non-creative careers out there. But as a woman, who on the paper couldn't wish for anything better, successful and financially secure, was in fact in deep turmoil of low self-esteem, unfulfilling relationships and constantly higher doses of anti-depressants and one night-stands.

I couldn't be mend. I was not that strong woman who puts her mind into something and achieves it. I know I could've been if I had not been afraid. I was born to live my dream, but I gave up. And my fragile soul and heart could not be mend.

In the end, years after giving up, I find myself in Love. (Hah.) I was in Love before. But this. This is the most exciting and breath-taking of feelings out there. That electrifying, sweep-out-off-your-feet kind of Love.
And I am holding onto it like a crazy person, because it makes me feel alive. It makes me feel Me again. That buried Renee that gave up on her dreams out of sheer fear of rejection and failure.

What is the problem, you ask. Because, there is. Well, I'll tell you. Remember how I told you about the way you end up making bad decisions? This has been the biggest one since I settled for this unfulfilling life for me.

I fell in love with a married man and a father of three adorable girls. And oldest one happens to be in my class.

I entered the relationship because it made me feel alive and forget the pain, the unhappiness and the episodes of depression I had been getting more and more lately. He dazzled me in a way I never expected any man to dazzle me. And I fell for him. He says he fell for me as well, but who knows?

I just know, for sure, I have said I am never going to cheat or to be the one someone is cheating on someone with. Is that sentence grammatically correct? (I can't tell, too much wine.)

I despised those people, I hated when they said that things are 'complicated'. My old romantic self would never even think about that. She would categorically dismiss even the thought of being someone's lover.


But you know, life happens, right?

And I fell in Love. That most exciting and breath-taking of feelings out there. That electrifying, sweep-out-off-your-feet kind of Love. The one that makes you do things you swore you would never do. The one that pushes you to be in that oddly uncomfortable position that puts you in even bigger pain in the end.

Like anal sex, for example.


from Deep Inner Thoughts

Foto von Flo Karr auf Unsplash

Heißt das so? Gefriendzoned? Ich glaub schon. Wenn man statt der “der Freund” nur der “beste Freund” ist. Wenn das diesem Wort entspricht dann trifft das irgendwie 100% auf mich zu. Aber irgendwie bin ich zufrieden damit.



Every now and then I catch a glimpse of my double chin in the reflection of my phone and it makes me sad for a moment but then I remember that you never look flattering when you are gazing mindlessly into a bright void. I hit the lock button and move the phone away from my face and almost immediately remember to inhale a little deeper than the short in and outs of the past few minutes. As I take this deeper breath I straighten my neck to relieve some of the built up tension. Thoughts start flooding in and I start to wonder what I should do next, and then I remember something I needed to check so I lift my hand, still clutching my phone, up to within inches of my face and light it up again, diving back into the numb solace for another unknowable amount of time. Life ticks forward, trudging in the vague direction of old age and deterioration and I mostly just continue to lie there, extending my sphere of thought through my arm, up to my hand and into this hot little device, or so it's called.


from shopkins

I've been made dull, and made my world dull. The vision is soft, fuzzy, lacking clarity; and I keep it out of focus so that I might never fall in love with the details; abscond off with life in a split-second impulse.

I constantly test limits with authorities. Doing the bare minimum of homework; doing only the necessary chores; working only as much as is expected. Eventually, maybe, someone will clarify their expectations. And when they do I make a decision: will I benefit more from choosing my autonomy and creativity, or from obliging the authority? It's all calculated, never predictable in itself, and generally my authorities either have something I want or can exert unfavorable power over my life, which will factor in to the decision.

So most times I stay within the lines they've drawn me.

The authorities enjoy this. It generally makes them feel good; lets them relax, now that their words have weight. But in me, the individual ultimately longing for freedom (despite, frankly, being too cowardly to fully commit to its pursuit), a gravity well forms. The reality of having made a strong outward decision (“I will obey”) solidifies, and a foreign planetary system of behavior grows. My now ostensible actions stand in stark contrast with my internal desires, but somehow I'm less alienated with myself. I see life as it is, now that I've decided on something, instead of deciding every moment to not make a decision and maintain the status quo.

No. I've decided to accept a cage. I've decided to live in it peacefully. And the words and images and truths come easily now that I know where I've planted my feet.

I will continue to live in this cage. It is my home right now, and I'll be comfortable in it — at least for the moment. But on the day I decide to move, I'll make the decision knowing this cage. I'll know its every detail; its gaps and exits. I'll take the direct path to freedom. And in the meantime, I'll no longer steep in delusions of the walls around me.


from frvl's blog

I remember, when I was a kid I saw some guy wearing his cap a certain way. It kind of stuck with me and I've been wearing it like that since that day.


from trashy rhymes

As I look out the window I see clouds rolling in, surrounding me. I think of the times when I used to be happy. I think of the times when I could play outside for all eternity. Or at least I thought i did.

Now, suddenly the clouds roll in into this valley And I'm drowned by them, slowly becoming nobody.



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