A delayed answer to an important question

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"J'ai quelques difficultés à reconnaître à J.K.Rowling le pouvoir d'arbitrer les goûts, après avoir écrit des livres pour enfants."

It is the study of the stories that move us that allows us to reflect on who we are as people and as a society.
No matter how trivial the story, studying it gives us insight on ourselves as human beings.
Dissecting children's books helps us understand what we taught children, what those children took away from those teachings, what they needed, what they dreamt of, and maybe, just maybe it helps us understand their experiences, traumas and hopes.
Studying Media, any media, gives us the opportunity to empathize with others and to understand their needs and aspirations.
I am not saying that everything has the same value. I am saying that everything HAS value.
Why do people enjoy following the lives of the Kardashians? Well, that's an excellent question! Why?
Do they need to forget about the triviality of their own lives? Do they want to experience, by proxy, how it feels to be rich? Do they want to focus on somebody else's superficial problems rather than contemplate the meaning of their own life? Or the lack of meaning, and therefore cripplingly terrifying vacuity of their existence?
Do they feel disconnected from other media? If so why? Do they feel unworthy of other kinds of media? If so, why? Do they reject other media? If so why?

Studying media is always interesting.
Every book started as "just a book" and it is only what people read in the book and took away from it that made it into a classics or doomed it to oblivion.
Refusing to acknowledge the value of a media on the premise that it is too recent or too easily accessible is just the manifestation of the fear to be outdated. [source]
Once again. I am not saying that all media have the same value. I am saying that all media HAVE value, and subsequently that this value should not be lightly dismissed.
I am saying that STUDYING media, no matter its value, is important and has something to teach us.

Why is everyone making such a fuss about Harry Potter?
Because it is the closest thing its readers had of a universal experience.
A whole generation of children grew up reading those books.
This series, no matter how superficially or how deeply, influenced its readers. It influenced what traits the children reading it, associated with heroism, it influenced who those children looked up to, it influenced what values those children came to cherish, it influenced their perception of the world.
And the fact that they are Children books is crucially important because it influenced their readers at the moment where they shape who they are and who they want to be.
It doesn't matter that they were not "big books", or "smart books" or even "good books". What matters is that they echoed with their readers. They moved the readers.
Maybe they didn't do much: maybe they just provided a nice story to spend the afternoon on.
or maybe they did a little more: maybe they provided a nice break when reality was tough.
or maybe they did even more: They gave children who felt excluded or lonely something to feel like they belonged. They gave the children something to talk about and to share.
or maybe they gave children a taste for more. More than just reality. A taste for reading. It's important, right?
or maybe they offered food for thoughts for the children who felt a little lost.
or maybe they offered role models to children who didn't know who they wanted to become.

Those are mediocre! It's just stories for children.
The stories we tell children today are the stories that will shape tomorrow's society. That's the point of education. That's the power of education.

What do people find in those books?
They found something. A little something or a big something. Not the same something for everyone.
And this is what matters.
Not the quality of the writing,
Not the "literary value"(whatever that is).
But that it brought SOMETHING to the readers.

I know it did.
It was a story that allowed children to dream and play and imagine things.
It told children that being a good student is GOOD, even though it is difficult.
It told girls that they were allowed to be heroines alongside boys. It told girls that they were allowed to shine. Allowed to be loud and bright and not always ladylike and not always nice or kind.
It taught children about poverty. That children are not responsible for the poverty they grow up in. That poverty shapes the people who grow up poor, that nobody should ever use poverty as a lever for shame.
It taught children that small acts of kindness or of bravery matter.
It taught children that no, adults are not always right. That adults can't always be relied on. That adults can't always be trusted.

It taught me, personally, the me that you know, that you talk to, that you sat across from, that there was more to life than what I was going through.
It taught me, that family can be toxic and that it is not okay.
It made me want to be smart, to know everything, to learn everything, to try everything.
You think I am smart and interesting? Thank Hermione for that.
It made me forget about the world when life was so fucking hard I wanted to end it. And Oh Boy I wanted to end it.
It gave me words for the pain and the ache of losing someone I loved.
It gave me role models.
It still does.
Today, as a grown up, as an adult, as a woman, it gives me role models. As a teacher I want to be like Remus Lupin. I want to captivate my students, help them learn and make it an enjoyable experience. I want my students to remember my classes fondly. My teachers did not provide that for me. School was hell. Remus Lupin provided that for me.
I want to be like Minerva McGonagall. I want to inspire respect because I am strict but fair. Because I want the best not just of my students but for my students.
Those books matter because they told me that being rejected by my family for who I am and what I am would not be the end of me.
It helped because my dad was violent. It helped me because I grew up in a loving but utterly dysfunctional family.
It helped me when I came out as a lesbian. Which I am. Even today. It helped me hold my ground when my father, the man who had carried me on his shoulders, the man who had made me dive in the sea, the man who loves roller-coasters as much as I do but who has a drinking problem, who had a severe anger problem, the man who slapped me countless times, the man who had broken both my wrists once because I had lost a glove, the man whom I love but grew up terrified of, yelled at me. Yelled obscenities. Yelled that no, Me, his daughter would not be a lesbian. That he hadn't done anything wrong. That he would not allow that.
Me, 16 years old, 1,72m and 38kilos, I stood my ground.
I had grown up reading about children who saved the world, who were afraid but did what they had to nonetheless.

Studying Harry Potter then, later, as an adult, allowed me to become more aware of all this, more aware of how those books had impacted, me and everybody else, though differently.
It allowed me to question my perception of motherhood and to evaluate what expectations I had of being an adult woman, because it allowed me time and an opportunity to ask myself: " Is Harry Potter a feminist series" and to look for arguments.
It allowed me to understand why my generation seems to be so wary of politicians and so distrustful of the government and politics. We did grow up learning that adults could not be trusted and that it's not because an institution says something that we shouldn't question it.
We didn't learn it from 1984, because though it is a classic, it is also absolutely boring and not accessible to young children. We learnt it with Harry Potter, with His Dark Material, with Divergent, with the Hunger Games.
The millenials, no matter how flowed generational separations are, grew up at a moment where children's literature was all about questioning power and fighting oppression.
And don't get me started about the next generation. They've been fed with more diversity in the media they had access to, than anyone before, so much so that today, they teach me about which direction society could take.

Saying that a book is not worthy of the attention people give it or of being studied
Is willfully deciding not to empathize with other human beings.
It is deciding that their experience is not worth understanding.
It is saying that they, their lives and existences are not worthy of being acknowledged.
This got Trump elected.
This is the conscious alienation of a population on the basis that "they are not worth it."
This is cold.
This is sad.
And somehow, this is wrong.
Refusing to empathize with others? To understand them?
I cannot, for the life of me, accept that.
Understanding brings knowledge and peace.
That's what I grew up to believe.
And I grew up to believe that because of all the things that shaped me. Harry Potter is one of them.

I could be richer.
I could have a brilliant career in Marketing, make tons of money.
I know I can: I am good at it. It's easy.
But I grew up to be someone for whom money and ease were not as valuable as the impact I have on other people's lives.
I want to make a difference.
And this comes, at least in part,  from reading Harry Potter and later studying it.
And I am not the only one.

The storm within

There is a storm within me.
Howling and clawing in my empty chest.
My hands shake and I have to breathe deep so my voice doesn't tremble.
My lungs are tight, constrained.
I am short breathed.
I must stay grounded, not let myself be drowned.
I remind myself to be kind and patient because I know those are the first things the storm devours.
I must remind myself that I am still alive.
Sometimes I forget.

On Teaching English

Teaching, in my humble opinion, is the most wonderful job there is. I say that as a teacher who started her professional life working in digital marketing, convinced that Me, going back to middle school? Over my dead body!

School, when I was a child, had been hell on earth. It had felt stifling and overwhelming.
But in the end, when I looked for another job, I started wondering what I could possibly do with my life, and somehow, teaching became an option.
Teaching means transmitting a set of skills to other people. It implies being able to look at the person who wants to learn, understand their need, their wishes, where they come from and what they want to go and to then to find a way to share with them the skills they need.
It is an incredibly gratifying job. My students’ progress and achievements are my pride and my joy. Teaching taught me to appreciate the genuine happiness of participating to someone else’s dreams.

Languages are the physical representation of how a culture perceives the world around it so teaching a foreign language is giving people access to a wider world. It is giving people the opportunity to experience the world in a slightly different way, to build bridges and connections with new people. It is also a tool to discover a new take on history, what happened somewhere else and how shared events can be perceived very differently.
Teaching English as a foreign language has its own peculiarities. It is a language spoken in so many places and by so many people that it can sometimes, from a very western point of view, feel like a universal language. But it isn’t. It conveys, through its vocabulary, its grammar, its cultural references, a specific way to look at the world, and it is important to keep this in mind in order to be as honest as possible with one’s students. English must be taught in its context, with all the widely different cultures that use English as their first language, with its history and this represents a massive challenge in today’s teaching.

English is a specific language in its composition: A Germanic language with hints of Scandinavian words, as well as some loans from Latin languages such as French.
This makes it a rather accessible language for European languages natives. This accessibility is made even stronger by the amount of content available 24/7 thanks to the internet. People all around the world can access music, videos, articles, movies, on every topic imaginable in English. Which makes English a uniquely interesting language. It is today considered as a requirement to find a job, but it is also made incredibly easy to access to anyone who would be interesting.

All in all, English has taken such a central place in the world that it is easy to forget that learning it is not obvious for everyone and teaching English as a foreign language is both challenging and gratifying.

I am offended

I am offended.
I am angry.
Shaking voice and clenched fists.

I deserve better. We deserve better.
I witnessed the birth of a monster, despite my best efforts to prevent it.
And it makes me angry. It frustrates me.
It scares me.

What must we do for people to accept that their ways need some serious change.
What will it take for men not to turn into monsters?

I survived. I walk with my head up because no one can get me down.
I wear my scars like banners,

But yesterday, I did for someone what I hadn't done for myself.
I faced a monster and tried to educate it.
Out of a sense of duty. So that when he rapes someone I will know I did my best.

I am offended because he feels righteous.

I may not be a good person at heart. But I fucking try my best.
Fake it until you make it.

But he wouldn't even do that.

This is unfair, this is scary, this is revolting.

It feels good.

An open flanel shirt
A black t-shirt
A pair of mini shorts.
Music in my ears and stories in my head.

Touch-starved?

Call me cheesy,
But when was the last time we had something like this?
When was the last time we held hands? When was the last time we shared something genuine.

I'm sure you wonder the same.
I'm sure you're as scared as I am.
I'm sure you're just as touch-starved as I am.

I miss the ease the devil twins had.
The closeness.
The like-mindedness.

I don't think I'll slow down.
Just carve my path and shine.
Bright. A harsh light, a shooting star maybe.
But I'll carve my name up high.
I wish you'd accompany me.
But I am starting to doubt that you could.
To doubt that you'd want to.
I'm starting to think that this is not something you want to put yourself through.
Not the kind of path you want for yourself.
I don't blame you.



I am touch-starved and cold.
I ache but I'm still breathing.
I'll be okay.
Chin up, smile on.

I just need to stop wishing for what I don't have.
Forget about it all.

[GIF: Eva (Josephine McAdam) and Jasper (Alexander Ward) - L. A. BY NIGHT]

Restless or Reckless?

Back to work, back to sports, back home.
I threw myself in the maelstorm of my life with all I have.
I barely feel at home anywhere anymore. I guess it's a good thing that I'll be moving abroad in two years.
It feels so far away, but then I already survived something similar didn't I?
The classes are interesting and they are a massive challenge. Plus the extra work load can't be such a bad thing. At least it keeps me busy. Keeps me from thinking too much, for questionning too much.
Since I haven't registered at university, I intend to sign up on some classes to compensate. I still have so much to learn. So much I want to study.
Dance started again. I'll be trying out at a new Krav Maga club. And maybe see if I can join the local Volleyball club. Should be out 3 evenings a week. Hopefully 4. Going to the gym too maybe.
Going out and seeing friends too.
At the picnic in July people mentioned that it had been a while since they had last seen me. which was true. I mostly disappear during the school year. I don't mind it much but I should invest more time in people.
I guess I'll book my friday evenings and my weekends to socialize.

Cycles

"ah, young people today, they don't..."

I hate this sentence. 

I've heard it used to talk about me, about my students.
I see people look down at their youth and dismiss them.
In 0.2 sec my colleague said: "I have to teach all this programming stuff I know nothing about. I need a formation." and "oh the programmes have been slashed and cut down! It's awful! The kids don't learn anything anymore!"
Because they learn other skills you humanoid turkey!
They learn to use tools that /they/ will need. And dismissing those on the premise that they are new, and that you lived perfectly well is a testimony of your own mediocrity!
Your inability to accept that the world changes, has always been changing scares me because it prevents you from connecting with your students and to offer them the respect and support they need to grow up into interesting and happy people. 

It's not very nice to say that.

"you'll see, it will happen to you too at some point. You're doing too much. You're gonna break too."

Oh Darling you don't know.
I look at you, at your scars, at your pain and at how you broke. How you couldn't stand and how it was just too much for you. How much life was too much.
I understand and it's okay. I see you.
But Oh Darling you have no idea.
I will not break like you did. Out of pride, out of spite, out of fury. I refuse. I look at the lethargy that plagues you and I know. I shall not break.
You sigh and shake your head. You think I am naive.
I think we don't play in the same league.
You think I don't understand the risk.
I think you misjudged me.
Oh Darling you couldn't even begin to comprehend.
I know the pain. It is inbedded in my bones, in all the small injuries that I dismiss. I know the tiredness and the exhaustion. I know how it feels to drown, how it feels when your heart is so compressed, when each beat hurts.
Oh Darling I know all that.
And you know what. I. Shall. Not. Break.
Ask me if I'm afraid of the dark.
Ask me if I am afraid of failure.
And then watch me walk at night. Watch me throw myself in the adventure.
I have a fire inside. An all devouring furnace.
And it will not be put out.

We had that talk at a restaurant and I looked at their faces. The dark circles under their eyes, the slight shame they can't erase no matter how much they need to.
I sat there, listening and I felt sorry for them. For how hard they tried to look tough. Why does everyone try to look stronge? I watched them explain to each other how hard it had been. The depression, the anxiety, the nervous break down, the burn out.
And I sat silently, reading with half my brain a book I had grabbed on the table before leaving. Not even mine. I understand the need for sharing, for feeling less lonely.
And His friend was so sure that I was the next one on the chopping block. I just bearly avoided telling her that it does not do well to judge everyone by one's own standard. No, it's not because you broke that I shall break too. I like her. I do. But there is a difference between us.
One that cannot be ignored. I am passionate.
I have a thirst for glory and fame and success. I have a craving for greatness.
I refuse to break.

I am invincible.

If I breath, I am okay.
That's what I keep telling myself. If I am still breathing then I am okay.
My body can hurt. My brain can get fuzzy. I'm breathing. It's okay.

I went dancing on monday and it hurt but I was proud.
Loren said that if I indeed was in pain, then it did show. That made me happy.
I went dancing on tuesday and it hurt, but I was proud.
Theo said I must be a little crazy to do that. he said it with some kind of awe. That made me happy.

I wake up early and do the dishes.
I go to work.
I smile and encourage. I want the kids to feel safe. I keep my face warm. I am warm and nice. Caring and supportive.
I keep my voice in check. Speaking loudly, but not shouting. Shouting is for people who can't inspire respect. I keep my back straight and my body language says that I can't fall.

I smile to my colleagues, show interest and compassion. Listen to their stories and take notes. Filling it all away. I am nice and unassuming.
I come home and make sure to keep my stuff on my side. Not to invade the common space. Taking care that my hobbies aren't an inconvenience. I keep track of the cleaning of the flat.
I keep my voice leveled, my words measured. To each their own. we can't all want the same thing from life.
I don't care if we skip meals. I can live with that. I wonder if I care that we don't talk.
I long for a best friend.

I am invincible. Nothing can get me.

Keep going

I ran 15 km.
More than I had ever run in my life. I didn't much train for it. I'm still waiting to know my official time but it might be decent. Nothing extraordinary, but decent still.
It was hard. somewhere between the second and the third kilometre, I wondered if I was going to make it. Not make it to the finish line, that I knew I would, but run all the way. Somewhere before the fourth kilometre, I started bargaining with myself: "hold on 'till the fourth kilometre and then maybe I'll walk" and once I passed the flag I just kept going "okay, make it to the fifth kilometre so that at least you'll have run a third of the way." and Then I just kept going. I saw some people slow down and walk but I kept going. "To the sixth km and then maybe I'll walk" and the path rose and fell, was concrete or cobbled stone. The track formed two loops so I saw the eleventh flag before the sixth. I told myself "I'll come back here." And one foot after the other I kept going. "Make it to the seventh".
There was that woman who half ran half walked, I wave at her and told her to run with me. Just keep running with me. She was in for the 10km race. Then we passed the eighth kilometre and I said "Keep going. Let's make it to the tenth." I saw the thirteenth km flag and told myself "I'll make it here again". Somewhere before the ninth kilometre she fell behind and I kept running. I went on. I passed the ninth flag and told myself that I could make it to the tenth. I was behing last year's chrono but I hadn't stopped running so that was that. I kept running. I saw the tenth kilometer and kept going. I knew where the eleventh flag was. I told myself I could do it and I ran some more. There was that girl who started walking. when I reached her I tapped on her shoulder and motioned to her to keep running. "Come on" I said with a smile. She smiled back and started running again. She was running faster than I was so I let her go. I passed the eleventh flag and I remembered the thirteenth. I told myself to make it at least to the twelfth. I saw the girl start walking again. when I got to her, I tapped her shoulder and just smiled. She started running again. She outran me quicky. And from the twelfth I ran to the thirteenth. Then I thought "fuck it, I'm not giving up now".
So I ran.
And I crossed the finish line.
Later the girl I had encouraged came and said thanks. I didn't have much to tell her. if she kept running, then so should I. She smiled and left. I was happy for her.

The day went on.
Now I hurt everywhere. My joints creak, my sinew hurt. My muscles are sore and I know tomorrow will be painful.
But I made it.
And thinking back about it, I find that this illustrates me rather well. I just keep running from one goal to the next. I keep going. No excuse, no giving up. Let's make it to the next thing. and then to the next. Sometimes my path crosses someone else's and I think if they can do it, so should I, and I grit my teeth and I do.
It hurts, sure. But I am still breathing, so I am fine.
At the end of the day, I can look back and say "I made it, I won" and head on to the next thing.

Take my hand.

I want to be courted.
I want to fall in love again.
I want a story, an adventure.
I want to feel the Earth sway under my feet.
Maybe I've read too much,
Maybe I have too high expectations.
I want challenges and bravery and surprises.
I want to feel my heart beat hard in my chest.
I want butterflies down in my belly,
Electricity running from the sole of my feet to the tips of my fingers.
I want the rush of adrenaline,
My ribcage caving in from the pressure,
I want my breath to be taken away
I want to be taken away.
Let's kill dragons together,
Climb mount Everest,
Ride horses through empty plains,
Jump of a cliff into the ocean,
Go out and look at the stars
Wake up to watch the sunrise.

What makes you proud

I've been consuming a lot of content recently. It had been a while. Getting that passionate about things, getting my whole little universe submerged in something.
I can sound pretty mundane, but for the eco system that lives in my head, this is always a major event. Doesn't happen often. I can be touched by a book or a movie, and like it and be inspired by it, but sometimes it will be different, like a stain glass that would completely change the colours and the perspetive inside me. It will change how I divide my attention between things, how I look at the world around me and it will definitely change what I create.

I haven't created much this year so far. But I have done other things. Going to the gym, trying to see some friends, feeding some good work habits, thinking about different art endeavours that I want to explore.
According to my own standards, this doesn't amount to much and yet, it makes a big difference.
I feel more at peace with what I do. It feels less like a fleeing race and more like an exhilarating race forward.

I realized that I want to build things. I want to create.
I want to see things and experience the world to feed my inner world.
I am proud of the skills I develop and hone and I realize that the only one standing between me and what I want to do, who I want to be, is me.
I guess it took me a while to figure myself out.
It took time. To weave together all the pieces, all the different lives together. To reconcile the fire inside and all the scared tissues, all the experiences, good and bad. The things I want to be when I grow up and the things I thought I ought to be and to do.
I was sold that good virtues make people happier.
It cost me a lot to learn that it doesn't mean that I must sacrifice myself to have value to others.

I was standing by the kitchen window recently, smoking. It doesn't happen much these days. Almost never, to be fair. A vice I thought I would never shed away and yet.
I was standing there, looking at the way the light plays on the city, black, purple and blueish against the golden sky. And it dawned on me that I had turned 28.
I am very fine with that fact. No existencial crisis (I guess, I've been having an existencial crisis for as far as I can remember. I wish it were a pun, but nope). It's just that... I had never actually projected myself so far.
I was there, standing in my own flat, away from the desk on which I had papers to grade, for work.
I was standing there and thought about someone I don't think about very often anymore. I had said I would never forget him and yet, he drifts away.
And I remembered our promise. One made so long ago some of the kids I teach weren't even born yet. That's scary.
I hadn't forgotten about this promise, it was just somewhere in my brain, far away. And there, looking at the sunset I realized that I have actually survived. Against all odds. when we struck that pact I guess none of us actually believed we'd make it. He didn't. But I did.
I survived my family. I even managed to go back to them. We're okay now I think.
I survived school. And actually enjoyed University. So much that I can't even imagine myself not studying something anymore.
I survived the life we had together and everything I did after he left.
I survived pain, and depression and assault.
And there I was, standing, alive.
I. have. survived.
I don't exactly have a plan, but I have a list. I know that there I stuff I want to do and I very much intend on doing as may things as possible with whatever time I have.

On my own

I cannot resent anyone for me not doing anything. I only have myself to blame.
I want to do things but I was reluctant to go out alone, to go on adventures alone.
And I had a pretty definite idea of who should come with me. But I guess that it's a bit unfair. Everyone should be allowed to do whatever they want to do with their free time.
So I am going to be a little more flexible about the company I keep.
Go alone,
Just offer plans and we'll see who comes.
If nobody comes, then I'll go alone.
I am fine with that.
I can rely on myself. I'm resourceful. I don't much like my own company but I guess I can learn to live with myself.

Fair Warning

I always aspired to be strong.
I think I am.
At least I am strong enough.

Don't worry, I'll deal with it.
I can take shoulder my own load.
It won't even show.

Words that stick

It's no news that I don't really understand how people perceive me. I've known that for a very long time. Friends have told me that at first I seem very distant, haughty or even unpleasant. My former boss told me the same once.
I have the reputation of being scary and harsh.
I am fine with all of this. Being an introvert and rather shy, I am a bit distant with people I don't know.

I lack patience and indulgence, especially when I am tired.
I try not to take it on anyone but apparently not well enough. Or so I understood.

Apparently I scared my friends into submissions during a dnd game.

Was it my general demeanor? Was it just my acting (my character can be an arse with 0 patience)? Was it something else?

The hell if I know.

I played my character. who did get fed up by other characters bullshit. I, the player, was tired and had been annoyed from not be able to say anything.

All I know is that when I came back with a friend at the flat on the next day I got caught into an unexpected lecture of how I should pay more attention to others and how I scared everyone and may or may not have ruined the game.

It was mentioned that being the DM's girlfriend probably had influence, but is it in my benefit or not, I don't know.

I am wondering about what I should do. It's been on my mind since. Some part of me thinks I should apologize to my fellow party members but some other part of me hates this idea. Since I don't understand exactly what I did wrong, I keep replaying the evening in my head, questioning what I did, what I said. Was it in character? Was it fair? Was I being an arse?
We were playing at my place for the third time and As always I had cleaned the place, I had been in charge of making sure the pizzas were put in the oven one after the oven. I was tired and not in the easiest spot to move. So yes, I was probably a tad flippant at times. But to the point of scaring people. actual people? not their characters? I don't understand.

I hate this.

I consider leaving the table but I hate this idea because that would be giving up, while I can't even understand what I did wrong.

My best friends and sister are playing on this table. I just can't fathom not being part of it. being excluded of it. too. again. Shit it still stings.

So there. What should have been a source of fun became a heartache. cool.
I can hear my darkest parts say that if I am not part of it then no one should.
But then I never pretended I was all kindness and support. I just try not act on my darkest thoughts.

I am feeling the wind blow and wonder when I am going to disappear again.

A moment between

I don't know where I am.
I've got ideas and projects, but the moment I sit down to get anything done, my brain just goes black. There's nothing left. The words feel wrong. I don't know where to start.
I want to draw but can't find a model I like for the life of me. I want to knit but I don't want to start any new project before I get those I currently have finished.
So I am in a weird spot. In limbo.
I hope it gets better soon because I hate not being able to focus on anything. I want to throw myself in something. It hurts.

Be your own hero

I signed up at a gym a couple of weeks ago. I've been going two to three times a week since. It feels good.
I don't especially like the place. I feel exposed and a bit uneasy, out of place, even if everybody's super nice. But I keep going back. With my headphones and a cool podcast that makes time fly. I keep running and exercising.

Sport's always been part of my personal therapy, a good way for me to get healthily tired. A healthy way to hurt. To bend that body of mine to my will.

I need that to feel at peace. I need the exhaustion, the sore muscles, the little pains that tell me I am alive. I need to prove to myself what I can do.
I don't think I'll try to really get stronger, but at least to stay fit. To be able to run and to lift whatever I need to. An adventurer needs to be fit.

Zoya - Extract

The forest is endless and empty. An army of naked tree trunks growing from the never ending flat ground. The moss on the floor is of a green so vibrant I can almost percieve it, even in the dark.
The ground is flat and devoid of any landmark. I can see far ahead. No low branch, no fallen tree, nothing to hide.
I can't hear the beast behind me but I know it's there.
It was there when I had woken up with a start, startled from my dreams by a muffled sound.
We had set camp in the forest. Four girls from three countries, unexpected friends, bonded by the same experience of studying in a foreign country. It was the first time I had ever been camping. They had said it was going to be memorable.
They had no idea.
Cathy's face had been turned towards me, her blue eyes seemingly looking at me but unfocused. It had taken me a moment to notice the blood across her cheek. My eyes slowly travelled down, to her open throat, white skin catching the moonlight.
The beast's head was buried in her, gorging on her guts, hidden to me by her bag.
I stayed there, suspended in an pocket of eternity, frozen, entirely unable to move, dazed by what I was seeing.
Someone had started to screamed.
I think it was me.
All hell had broken loose.

My feet keep hitting the ground. I don't know how.

Lucinda and Bell had woken up too. The beast had looked up.
Bell had been sleeping next to Cathy. She hadn't stood a chance.
With one fluid move the beast it had just buried it's muzzle in her throat.
What Lucinda did, I don't know. I had scrambled to my feet by then and started running.

The chemistry of a stable couple - Or lack thereof

I don't know what bonds us anymore.
Whatever we used to share we now enjoy separatly.
You used to admire that I lived a packed life, now it tires you and you resent me for not making more time for the things we said we'd watch together.
I used to love going out with you, meeting friends, training, I used to love writing with you, talking for hours, now I resent you for being such a home bird.
I wanted to listen to this saga with you. I discovered it on Tumblr and wanted to share it with you. You ran away with it because I didn't have enough time, and now I resent you for that. It feels like you stole it from me. I know, it's irrational. Nothing prevents me from listening to it on my own, but I can't help but see in it a symptom of our relationship: what we could have shared we don't. Because I am too busy. Because you are too lazy. Because I am never in the right mood. Because you can't wait.
I want to go running but you hate running. I want to go swimming but you hate swimming.
Our lifestyles are similar and yet so different. I hate noise in the morning, you watch videos. I wake up early and I am active quickly, you're not a morning person.
At which point are we too different to make a good team? I am afraid of those thoughts because I know them too well. I've been there already and I don't like those clouds on the horizon.
At which point are we too dysfunctional to function together?
At which point are you going to realize that you have no reason to love me anymore.

A discussion on pride, interest and mental health

We had one of those conversations again. Those that last hours and I get out feeling like I just wasted time because I learnt nothing. I still don't understand you.
We don't deal with our demons the same way and I am at loss when it comes to understanding how you function.

I say often that I live in denial, but it is just a useful lie to make it easier to explain how I deal with my demons. It might look like I ignore my problems and pretend everything is okay, but if this blog shows us one thing, it is that I actually spend quite some time dissecting my problems.
I know them. I know what stresses me, I know what hurts me, I know what haunts me.
How could I ignore them when I spend hours feeling like my ribcage is caving in, when claws burrow in my guts, when my bones are made of lead?
When I say I hurt, it is not a metaphore. I hurt. Physically. Those are not just images, those are the very real pains that plague me.
Not all the time,
Not everyday.
But often enough.
That's depression for me. The phantom pains of my emotions. Of numbness, of emptiness, of fear, of self depressiation. They weight me down and wreck my brain enough that I can feel them.
But I refuse to let them affect me. Because they are only emotions, because I know my demons and I just refuse them to hold me back.
I rationalize everything. I recognize that yes, I am procrastinating because that task stresses me, then I take a deep breath and I kick myself into doing it. I get my shit together and get stuff done. That's what I do. It hurts, but that's what I am good at: gritting my teeth and ignoring pain. I used to dance on broken feet. I used to run with broken ribs. It's fine. I can deal with the pain, with the nightmares, with the panic attacks, because I know how to rationalize them, put them in a box small enough that I can live my life carrying them.

You on the other hand, I don't understand. You once told me that you knew yourself and that you knew your demons. But time passes and I wonder. Do you? We talk for hours, slightly unearthing things that keep you down, that prevent you from living.
You turn a blind eye to them and function the best you can. As long as you don't look too closely at them you can function. you can wake up and go to work and when you are not at work you drown yourself in comics and videogames hoping to hold the shadows at bay. Is this really all you expect from life?
I fell in love with your passion and your curiosity and your imagination. You used to create, now you only consume. You used to shine and make me feel challenged.
I don't feel that way anymore.
You said you used to have nothing to loose and maybe that's what made you shine. Perhaps you felt freer then and enjoyed life more.
Now you are afraid of losing all those things that you finally managed to get. A job that challenges you, a place of yours and a long and healthy relationship.
But I'm not sure you'll keep that last one for long the way things are going.
You hate yourself for not being good at your job but whatever spare time you have you squander trying to avoid thinking about how bad you feel for not being good at your job.

Anyhow. We all deal with our demons the best we can.
I don't know any better.
I am just not sure I can settle for what that makes of you.

Hello 2019

For 2019, I wish to:

• Sort my paperwork out
• Write a new story
• Draw at least once a month
• Go climbing at least ten times in the year
• Dance at least twice a week
• Finish my knitted throw
• Sew at least one item of clothing
• Visit at least one new country
• Practice my foreign languages
• Read four books a month
• keep in touch with my friends
• get a new tattoo