Listening to sounds of music and reminding myself what those words mean to me, that’s what’s in my blood. Writing down words like a crazy person while half awake at night, trying so hard not to forget the dream I had that could transform into a worldwide bestseller one day if I was ever that lucky, that is also in my blood.
Trying to pinpoint where exactly it all went to hell, that’s on my eternal to-do list, I keep adding it every day. Finding answers to a lot of the questions will seem impossible, but that curiosity is a part of me, always.
Standing up to bullies through years and years of enduring the same, and saying NO to their harassment and brutality, that is what runs through my veins.
Staying up late night trying to watch Grey’s Anatomy and to not fucking shed a tear at the realness that hits me every time (it’s not about the show, but what I learn from it every time, about myself, about my environment, about the world…), that’s something that will never leave my side.
Trying to juggle multiple commitments and passions at a time because I can’t make myself decide which I like best, which I am best at, that is a little grain of doubt and suspicious that will never leave my nervous system.
The anxiety when I think whether or not I have made the correct choice, the anxiety when I venture into something new, the anxiety when even I concur some of my fears and battles, that’s something that will remain hidden in a special brain cell, locked away deep into my subconscious, probably a resident for life, alongside other mental illnesses and insecurities. They are flatmates forever.
But who am I to change any of my characteristics? Those things make me human, even though at most times I wish to be a cyborg, a mutant, an experiment where I wouldn’t need to feel all those things…
I’ll keep on eating just the right amount of sorrow and hope to make my bloodstream flow like a charm, and eventually, the type will work itself out… I hope…