The introvert’s introspective tales| ramblings


It’s December. Time to be merry, festive and bright. It should be a natural state, there’s jolliness in the air, you can’t avoid to inhale it every time you go out. There’s no escaping Christmas spirit. The street lights peak through the windows, they’re colorful and blinking, there’s a warm white tone in the streets at night, even the cold feels cozy.

It’s shouldn’t be this difficult. I’m a firm believer in Christmas spirit, I own a shameful amount of Christmas socks, I put up my tree at the beginning of November, I pretty much force feed Christmas to everyone in my life.

It shouldn’t be difficult to be merry, but this year something feels different. It’s not that I’m not cheerful, I’m probably still a little bit more excited about Christmas than your average human being. I’m just not me. Whoever that is. I’ve been struggling a little with myself for the past few months. Not quite sure who to be while being certain of who I am. It’s confusing. I just can’t shake off certain things. They linger onto me and I can’t seem to get rid of them. Some days I can’t even get out of my head and I’ll find myself not being able to maintain a conversation. On others, I’m so out of head I’ll became light and unattached, some would even say I’m in a good mood. I came to the conclusion that I’m more pleasant when I don’t keep up with my thoughts.

Maybe I should stop thinking so vividly. Being introspective is not a bad thing, but when you start to lose your ability to interact with others because you’re so damn lost in your own mind, it might be something harmful after all.

Not to say I feel unwell.

But if I’m being honest… I think I do.

I look at my self a lot. I do. It’s like a sort of emotional vanity. I don’t mean to say I only see good things. One will look in the mirror a lot too when the reflection isn’t the one desired. I often don’t like what I see. I write about myself a lot too. I’m writing about how much I write about myself in this very moment. This can’t be healthy and for sure this isn’t helping anyone. And I don’t even do it as an ego stroke, it’s actually more of an ego beatdown. Someone has to keep me humble. But I guess it’s time to let someone else do it. Trust that I’m surrounded with people who will be quick to put me in my place whenever I start to wonder off my usual path and just stop the beating.

It’s time to let someone else become my enemy, I can’t take the number one spot at all times. I’ve been doing it for a while, and I might have become too good at it. I need to make emends with myself and let someone else hate me instead. Maybe it’ll be easier to be inside my head after that happens. One can only hope.

What better time of the year to start forgiving than December? May it be merry, festive and bright.

A tale of three girls | ramblings


She had curly hair. I remember thinking her hair was really pretty. She was also short, never chubby but a bit on the fuller side. She smiled like she was hiding something, and looked like she was above everyone else. Whether she actually was or not, I don’t know, but it seemed like she felt like she did. I wouldn’t trust her. I never had the chance to talk to her, so I wouldn’t know what she was like personality wise, I have this feeling we wouldn’t be friends. I saw her from afar and made my judgment from there.

She looked nothing like me. It made me insecure how little we looked alike. They went on to date for several years, I thought they would get married and it fucked me up a bit that I would be the last girl before The One. Aside from that, I didn’t care much that they were together. I wouldn’t call it heartbreak, it was upsetting, sure, my first big break up, but I managed well. I was surprised how little it bothered me to see them together.

The second girl was taller, had long straight hair, a cute smile and was very nice. This one looked a lot like me, everyone would say so and that only made things more awkward. She was way more outgoing which was surprising, cause he wasn’t. We could have been friends. We almost were actually.

This one bothered me a lot. I was blindsided by it completely. One day he was into me and the next he was dating her. This was the first time I was putting my heart out there and he simply walked all over it. The worst part was that she looked so much like me that it could have been me. Was I not good enough to be The One? Luckily they broke it off after a while.  For years I would think of him as the one that got away. Not anymore. Guess I’m finally cured from that curse.

I never got to meet the third girl. Never even heard of her. She seems nice I suppose. It’s funny cause she looks like a mix of the girls before her. She has straight hair, chubby cheeks, a wide smile and looks like she is immensely happy at all times. I wonder if she’s quiet or outgoing. She seems … easier to be around – easier than me. He is really found of her, it seems. They’re still together – as far as I know. This one is the one that cut the deepest. I was completely caught off guard by it, I never dared to believe he would have fallen straight into her arms so quickly. Jokes on me for breaking it off, I guess. He was long gone before I sent him away though. I always wondered if he had already started falling for her and I think it’s because of that doubt that this is the one that hurt the most. She might be The One for him.

None of it really bothers me anymore. All six could get married, go live in a closed community and join a cult, for all I care about. What stings is how they made their way through my life as if I was just part of the landscape. I guess everyone suffers from that a little. But this specific pattern made me very insecure. I can’t bring myself to fully trust people anymore. I’m always cautious, for all I know, they could move onto the next best thing tomorrow. And I will be left blindsided, not knowing what I did wrong, what happened or how I could have prevent it. People are really that temperamental, one day they’re here and the next they’ll simply be gone.

I obsessed about this so much that I found myself falling into the pattern and reversing it at the same time. I became the goner. Turns out, I’m really good at goodbyes. Blink and I’ll be gone. If I go first, they can’t leave me, and I don’t have to get hurt, because I’ll never get attached to begin with. Also, there’s not enough time to see the flaws.

I can be very tiring, all this insecurity get old after a while and people will just be done with me one day; and I’m also immensely flawed, which is why the deeper people get to know me, the easier it becomes for them to leave me.

I can’t blame anyone for wanting to leave me, what I can do, however, is beat them to it.

boyish charm |ramblings

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I’ve always been a sucker for a boyish charm. You know, when a guy is not only charming but also so aware of it that he becomes borderline arrogant. He’ll talk like an ass with an endearing smile, leaving you wondering if he truly believes what he’s saying or if he’s just aiming for a reaction. You often won’t know for sure if you should be annoyed or attracted. It’s a sweet struggle.

I like a good train wreck, as most girls do. I think everyone has that specific type of person that they’ll find themselves attracted to despite knowing better. My thing is a good old boyish charm.

Most of the boys I dated, or found myself attracted to, were really confident. Looking back, some of them didn’t had a lot of reasons to be (that’s not mean, it’s just painfully true), but they were nonetheless. And I was always attracted to that. Now, I’m not the most confident girl, so there were some moments were I would also be kinda of intimated by it, luckily (luckily?) it never really stopped me from pursuing them.

I dated a really sweet boy for a little bit. He was really sweet. Don’t think I’ve ever had any sort of romantic interaction with a sweet boy like that before, it was interesting and new. However, he lacked that slight arrogance. I would find myself getting bored of him at times, which was never fair to him. – Notice how I can say that all the others were assholes, but this one was really sweet so I feel terrible for saying he bore me. – I don’t think I’m suited for sweet boys, I’m already sweet enough. I need someone with a bit of spice in my life. A guy has to be at least a little bit of a imbecile for me to even consider being interested in him.

Falling for someone that has that unexplainable boyish charm will bring you inner conflict. It’s a given. Most of the days you won’t know if you want him close enough to hold or just ship him to another country. But that’s the fun of it. It keeps you on your toes and makes life more interesting. It’s definitely a frustration I don’t mind suffering from. I don’t know what this says of about me or my under-covered issues, I’m really not interested in finding out to be honest. But I do know that it’s a given and I can’t escape the true: I’m enticed by pretentious guys with playful smiles and an slightly insolent attitude. Bare with me if my description seems harsh, however I’ve been infatuated by – and even dated – boys like this my entire life, I’ve seen them up-close and I’m entitled to be honest. Doesn’t mean I like them any less and I wouldn’t have it any other way.


reliable | ramblings

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One thing about me: I’m very reliable. It’s not even a question, it’s something I’m very certain I am, something people around me would say, the one thing my old friends and new acquaintances would agree on. It’s a given.

I don’t mind it, in fact it’s something I like about myself. I like that I’m trustworthy.

I guess my quietness comes in handy and I’m sort of easy to trust.

It comes with a consequence that it can be quite heavy at times, people will always expect me to know best. It’s something I hear a lot when I fuck up, ‘you should know better‘, ‘out of everyone I did not expect this from you’. It fucks me up a bit more everytime. I already condemn my own failure, to know that people would be expecting more from me, makes me lose my marbles. I’ve heard it on several different occasions during my lifetime. I just do it on my own now, whenever something doesn’t go as planed and I’m the one to blame for it, I’ll say it in my head. ‘You should have known better.‘ A lot of times people aren’t even blaming me for it, but I just do it out of habit, I guess.
I’m one to believe I should know better. And most of the times I’m sure I should have, but we must fail sometimes. In retrospective it’s easy to acknowledge that most of the times I’ve freaked out about failing to know better weren’t worth the trouble. I just can’t bare to think that I’ve betrayed someone’s trust in me. If I lose my reliability I lose the one thing I’m good at.  I can’t lose that. I can’t have someone knowing me and not think I’m trustworthy.

This was supposed to be a positive outlook on myself, how did I messed it up? Turns out I can’t really rely on myself to stick with the premise.

love | ramblings



We used to kiss on red lights.

Every set of two will have a little quirk, ours was kissing whenever we were stopped at a red traffic light. Looking back, most of the memories are sour, but this one is sweet. Even though our story is often tainted by the lows, there are still some memories that are worth sharing.
So, it was an unspoken agreement, whenever at a red light, we would kiss. Whether we were in the middle of an argument or in pure bliss, we would would always share a peck. It was worth something. It still is.

My mother still laughs at my dad’s old jokes. They’ve been married for over 25 years, and he will recycle his jokes every once in a while – even I have heard them over a thousand times now – still, every time, she’ll laugh like it’s the first time she hearing them. It’s endearing. I wonder if she’s laughing with him, for him or out of love. Maybe it’s all three combined. My mother is the most beautiful when she’s laughing at my father’s jokes.

I think love is made out of little things. I say think, because my understanding of it is quite limited. I’m not the best at spotting it either. I used to think love was meant to be easy. If it wasn’t, it couldn’t be love. If it wasn’t easy, I didn’t want it. I’ve changed my mind a bit on that, it does require some effort to work out, but you’re never supposed to try to love someone.

I think love is meant to be this organic feeling that comes to you easily. You barely notice it coming up to you. When you see it, it has already been there for a while. It will lodge itself in your heart, snuggle up with your thoughts and once you notice it, it’s too late already. You’ll find yourself in love without having to try. It’s all fun and games at first. The real trouble begins when the feeling stays with you.

I never looked at love as this sequence of grand gestures. I’ve always believed it was about the little things, like someone waking up earlier to prepare your coffee; driving out of their way to get your favorite pastry and cooking your favourite meal even after a long day. These are just some examples, I understand it sounds that somehow I believe that love is related to someone feeding you. It’s not just that, obviously. But it is about the little things. You see it on the daily efforts not on occasional actions. No matter how big the gesture is, buying a chocolate everyday is worth more than getting a box once in a while.

I’m always looking for the smallest signals. Whenever involved with someone I will always ask myself the same question. You see, I like my sleep and I like waking up without an alarm. Getting out of the bed in the morning is one of the most difficult tasks I do daily. Would I be willing to wake up everyday 30 minutes earlier to prepare breakfast for this boy? It’s a big effort. If I was to do it out of obligation I would get very cranky and eventually resent the poor thing for it. So far, whenever it was time to ask myself that question, the answer has always been negative. So, no luck so far. But I do have hope in the fact that someday I will be willing to wake up early for someone and be in a good enough mood to prepare some pancakes and coffee.

There’s still time to find that someone. I’ll panic when I’m thirty.

emotionally lazy | ramblings

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I’ve been told that I’m emotionally lazy. I can see why someone would think that. I live my life in a medium temperature, very rarely will I get excited about something and upsetting me is so difficult that those who succeed should earn an olympic gold medal for achieving it.

I don’t know exactly when it was the first time that I just gave up on feeling, but I do know that I’ve been doing it for a while now. If it was a sport, by now, I would be a pro. It’s not like I gave up on feeling, actually, one can’t simply decide not to feel anymore. That’s not a thing that happens. But I do became numb to a lot of things. At least, I’m numb at first sight. Eventually all this first sight disregard will catch up to me but normally I’m the only one present when that happens.

But yes, being emotionally lazy, emotionally unavailable, is my thing. There’s an going joke amongst friends with the fact that I don’t have a heart and that I have to google what certain feelings are. To be fair, it’s not completely untrue. It’s no secret that me and my feelings don’t keep a close relationship, however, I can’t help to wish that people would encourage a different behavior from me. More people in my life have told me to burry it down, rather than to own it. So, why would I do otherwise?

I also feel like I’m not entitled to my feelings, so I’ve learned to shrug them off whenever they could provoke any damage. I’ve kinda lost track of what I’m aloud to feel nowadays and I go on without feeling a lot. I’ll even shut down things that are completly harmless, just out of habit. I’ve showed emotion before and was told I was not entitled to it. Maybe I wasn’t. Still, for someone who doesn’t do it a lot, to be told you shouldn’t feel whatever it is that you’re feeling takes a tool. Specially if you’re vulnerable when you hear it. You’ll become very self aware of the feelings you chose to express.

I’ve grown very protective of my emotions, I’ll show them at very rare occasions, and only if I can’t help it. For better or worse, whether they are more or less pleasant, I’ll only show them if I’m left with no other choice. I always think it’s a big mistake and I’ll regret it later. Normally, I’m right. I always end up regretting sharing what goes on inside this seemingly empty shell. I would have given up on this terrible habit only if life proved me wrong once in a while. It doesn’t though.

The worst part of being emotionally lazy is the fact that often people will forget that having feelings is actually something I’m capable of. Most of the times it’s alright, I’ll forget it too. But sometimes it’ll hurt. And I don’t know what to do with it when it hurts. Because being hurt by something I was told is also not something I’m entitled to feel. Funly enough, knowing that, doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I don’t wanna show so little that people will think I don’t feel at all, that drives people away. I also don’t wanna get told off for feeling the wrong thing, that also drives people away. Growing old completly solo is also no ideal, however it seems to be the only thing I’m good at. Driving people away is my forte. I wish it wasn’t.

So that’s that. My perpetual cycle of struggle: how to procrastinate less emotionally while sharing only what’s truly needed and don’t end up completly alone in life. Seems hopeless.

lights out | ramblings


Happiness is a difficult concept to grasp. Mostly because it is constantly changing. You can single out a moment and say it was a happy time, but it is pointless to try to recreate a certain event to experience the same happiness you once felt. What brings you joy today may fail to do so tomorrow and you may find yourself smiling at a moment that once left a sour taste in your mouth. This is way being happy can be a bit of a struggle, you don’t know exactly what you’re looking for. Hopefully you’ll eventually stumble on something golden but most of the times you won’t know how happy you truly were until retrospective gives you a glimpse.

If you’re lucky, you can look back in your life and pinpoint the happiest moments. However, even happiness can be quite sad when it’s only a distant memory.

Sadness however is something very easy to embody. All you need is a brief moment with yourself and all at once the world goes dark. Even a happy souvenir can be easily tainted by a small quick thought. It really just takes a second to shift an entire day. It’s upsetting how fragile our mood is. It’s upsetting how our spirit can be broken with the wrong word. It’s truly upsetting how it’s so easy for darkness to overcome the light and how unfair that there is no switch to turn the light back on.

Most of the days will start off grey, some cloudier than the others, but consistently gray. Sometimes the clouds dissipate as the day goes by, however, night eventually arrives. Some days are summer days and the sun will shine unapologetically for many hours and night will take it’s time to come; others are more like winter and there’s only a little glimpse of light during the day, night arrives quickly and you have to make your way through life with a little more effort. You see, it’s quite hard to look forward in the dark, it’s equally as difficult to look back to where you came from. You can sit still and wish for the best or keep moving and hope you don’t stumble. Either way, you can’t succumb to it, you can never dare to become a distant memory of yourself.

Truth is there can’t be one without the other. And if it is a fact that darkness eventually comes, it is also certain that there will be light again. You just gotta hold on to that belief, even when you can’t see.