Neither me, nor you.

Illustration from @littleguns_ on X

For Isla Bell

I walked the same roads as you
crossed the same paths but
in the end, only one of us gets to keep walking.
What made me live and you not?
Sheer luck.
And that’s what we have to depend on
that’s what we have to wish upon.
To be able to breathe.


What makes my actions lead to nothing more
than a mildly concerning story and hers to an obituary?


Everything I read or hear about this I think to myself…
What’s the difference between me and her and her actions and mine
I’ve met people like the ones she encountered and was perhaps just as close
to ending up like she
So why did it happen to her and not to me?


What makes me different? What makes her so easy to be taken away?
Why do I even have to be in a position where I wonder why her and not me?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Isla Bell was a missing woman for a large part of 2024. In October/ November 2024, they found her remains. She had been murdered. The reporting on her case is difficult to read as it insinuates and blames Isla somewhat for what happened. It’s unacceptable. It’s painful. But it’s a narrative we’ve read and heard over and over. All I know now is that I wish nothing but torment upon the men who did this to her and those everywhere who have destroyed/are destroying/continue to destroy the lives of women. And I extend it further to those who destroy them even in their deaths.

good damage

How and why do I feel so miserable? My period app says I’m due to start bleeding in about four days, so that might be why, but I just feel off! I’m unhappy, unsatisfied, annoyed, and restless. I wish I had more in me—I wish I was successful, well-off, and talented. I feel wasted, rotten, and unremarkably unimportant.  

The weather has been so hot too, and it makes me want to claw my skin off. I sweat so easily; it’s so gross and unladylike…  

I used to not care about gender roles. I’ve always prided myself on being a liberal child, even in the conservative household I grew up in. From a very young age, I remember challenging my parents’ beliefs, proclaiming my judgment-free convictions. I didn’t mind looking like a boy. I didn’t mind letting my leg and armpit hair grow out. I was more independent—and less fat.  

Every time I write the word fat or even mention my weight, it feels like I’ve detonated a bomb. The awkward bomb, like casually dropping a slur in the middle of a chill conversation and watching everyone go silent. That’s how it feels to admit, even to myself: I’m fat. Or I feel fat. Or I’ve gotten fat.  

When I let myself say it, it’s like everyone in my head stops what they’re doing, goes silent, and stares at me. I can’t seem to admit it—not fully. I’ve buried it so deep, avoided it so vehemently, that even when I try to address it, there’s this bleak, unnerving silence. If I admit it, then it becomes true.  

But it’s already true!  

I miss having my Instagram account. I miss the attention and validation it brought me. Like a past relationship, I know I’m forgetting the bad parts—the fear of posting something my parents might scrutinise, the panic over comments about suggestive angles. Growing up felt like jail. I shouldn’t have had to feel that way as a child. That child shouldn’t have grown older only to make fear its home.  

There were other bad parts, too. Worrying about posts that didn’t get enough likes, stories with too few views, follower counts going down, or someone else’s account growing faster. There was always something to keep me up at night.  

And yet, all I can think about now is how good I felt about myself when I had aasthameow.  

I want to unfollow Melbourne influencers who make me feel awful about myself. They have platforms, opportunities—access to things I wish I could experience. But I don’t want to be like that. I know they’ve worked hard, and they’re reaping the rewards. Still, it stings to click on a story and see someone my age, in my industry, a friend of a friend, being invited to concerts with after-party entries while I stand in line for eight hours, wait another four for the performance, and leave without the signed poster all VIP ticket holders were promised—because customs.  

I feel hateful. Furious. And I don’t want to write anymore.  

But where do I go? What do I do with all of this? It’s lodged inside me, spreading like a stain. If I walk away from typing this, the thoughts won’t stop. And if I don’t document my misery, what’s it worth?  

Two things are on a loop in my mind:  

1. Diane Nguyen Good Damage monologue from BoJack Horseman: “Because if I don’t, that means all the damage I got isn’t good damage, it’s just damage. I’ve got nothing out if it, and all those years I was miserable for nothing.” 

2. A quote I read on someone’s Instagram story: “Art isn’t good or bad; it’s just profitable or not.”

I’m clinging to that second one, hoping it helps my mental health because right now, it’s not looking great.  

Not everything has to be tied together, you know? I could be happy with myself without feeling like it would deteriorate my work. Self-worth and productivity don’t have to hold hands. I could be free from my demons. But I’m competitive—and my own worst enemy. I wouldn’t even let anyone else win that title.  

Btw I started a Substack. So if you like to read, there's material there too. 

Dream Girl and the HE-brain

I’ve been having dreams about this girl. No, not in that way. I meet her, and we talk. I tell her how I’ve been talking about her, singing her praises—all while the knot of not hating, not being able to hate her, tightens in me. I aspire to be like her. I never aspire to be like anyone; I just start despising them. I grow angry and resentful that someone has it better than me.

When I was younger, even up until a couple of years ago, I truly did believe I was destined for greatness or something. I just felt special. It was probably something undiagnosed or delusional, but I just knew I’d ‘make it.’ Not anymore though—that feeling has died out. Not that the mental illness has died out; it’s just been replaced, suppressed, overtaken by something worse, something parasitic.

But wanting to be her—to be someone else—out of admiration has been grounding. The absence of my hatred must mean I’m not that bad. Not that bad of a feminist. Not that bad of a team player, bad sport, bad person. Just bad.

Is that enough? Should I let it be enough? Should I be satisfied with the sufficiency of this enough? Cue Naomi Wolf, holding the hourglass pictured on the front cover of The Beauty Myth. The sand trickles down. "You haven’t picked me up in years. You know you need to, before you become a cautionary stat. You know I spoke about women like you—jealous, competitive women overtaken by the patriarchy. Women who will never be happy, nor free." I know, Naomi, but it’s hard to get rid of old habits, I’d reply. I wonder if she’d look at me with disgust then. A fat, lazy piece of shit who can’t even do this much—for women! For humanity! For herself! (Tbh, I’d probably assume it was because I'm brown.)

But it’s true. Old habits die hard: forgetting to floss, gossiping, overeating. I know that much. I wonder if she, the Dream Girl, has vices, things she knows aren’t good for her but can’t stop. Things she knows will inevitably cause her downfall. Or maybe she exercises her free will. Where does that come from though?

I used to have this so-called free will. But nowadays, I’m just my brain. I feel HE can only be addressed with such pronouns when speaking of HIM. HE is dominant, off-putting, egotistical. Unlike the she-brain, which wanted to believe, prayed for tranquillity, and was drenched in the indisputability of greatness and success, this current HE-brain is gluttonous and dream-shattering. I’ve had pretty good male role models in my life, so I don’t know how HE made his way here, infiltrating every aspect like an abusive partner. He crept up on me like narcissistic men creep up on vulnerable women. There may be a remedy, an evaluation, or an eviction process for the HE-brain within the pages of Tolle’s work. But HE knows that’d be detrimental to his survival.

Does Dream Girl feel anything comparable to this? I can only imagine she does but in a much more nuanced manner. It would be informed and valid. It would have good reason and cause. It would be humanitarian, deep, and Pinterest-y. Some girls get sad and become Sylvia Plath; I get depressed and end up fat. How is that fair? It can only be self-error induced. What’s the point of blaming it on trauma, PTSD, class, colonisation, or some diagnosis? In the end, when I submit my piece, all that matters is if I did something with all that sadness—something monumental, intersectional, and all-encompassing in a subtle, incomparable, non-replicable way is what I need to achieve. Instead, I ignore the incoming call from my friend’s mum from the hospital, asking me if I want to talk to her clinically-dead-for-15-minutes-and-now-recovering-but-hasn’t-been-the-same (no shit) daughter.

In the end, when someone on the other side is sitting and reading this piece, deciding whether: 1.) My choice of words is distinct and impactful; 2.) The order in which I’ve arranged those distinctive and impactful words is distinctive and impactful in and of itself; and 3.) No one else has arranged their distinctive-er and impactful-er words in a more distinctive and impactful way—it won't matter whether I’m in pain or suffering. I can still write about it, so it must not have been that bad. Art only takes on value when the cause of it results in death, marking the end of a hypothetical recovery. In death, we (and you) strive to find reason and meaning.

Exhaustingly yet unsurprisingly, the egotism, selfishness, and self-serving lens of the HE-brain have taken over again. Above, we can witness the infestation of HE-ness (sounds similar to heinous). The HE that, in a world of tragedy, focuses on greatness for the self and the sustenance of personal dreams. It’s disgusting, honestly. Of course, Dream Girl deserves my dream life because Dream Girl cares about life. Plath cared about life, right? Until she didn’t. But that’s when we started caring.

See, I just don’t get it. I have all the components, all the right pieces, to construct and become and enjoy the embrace of my HE-brain aspiration puzzle. The pieces just don’t seem to fit together, though. Their edges have been sanded down, manhandled, manipulating the ease with which they would otherwise fall into place.

I can see it as a product of lacking the she-brain touch. The lack of she-brain sensitivity, which made Plath stuff towels and cloth in the gaps between the doors and floors of her kitchen before she placed her head in the oven. The she-brain gentleness of allowing myself to believe in good. The she-brain generosity of Dream Girl.

Imagine if this whole thing was simply just gay panic… a do I want to be her or do I want to be with her dilemma. It’s probably in the making, up there. My she-brain puts HIM to what never felt like work to her.

I'll want to read back on this

I've been feeling powerful this week, my energy has been calm and I've been soaking in rays of stability and now-ness. 

I was asked by a friend the other day, what 21 has been like for me and my mind directly went to explaining it in comparison to being 17. Maybe comparison isn't the correct word as the two are revealing themselves to be so similar to each other, instead, I think I use the term to emphasize the difference in my understanding of the situations, but within different mindsets, as I am the one who has changed, not necessarily the events. 

17 was full of change, of hardships and it was a transitionary period. It was difficult to navigate and it was challenging to say the least, and although 21 seems quite the same in that aspect, my consciousness is far more present in getting me through every day. I am aware of how the two ages have brought me similar situations but as I am different and have a clearer idea of who I am or what I want; and, I can find peace and pride myself on that growth. 

When I comprehend this thought though, it just seems to me as if we're all a part of some strange joke. A prank maybe, that we're playing on ourselves. I feel as though we are so far into a delusion that even recognizing it feels wrong, yet we all do recognize it, but choose to bury it deep and not think about it because well, what else are we meant to do?  

(I hesitate to expand on that further because I believe I am more convincing when I speak about it, rather than when typing, but then again it differs depending on who I speak to as even a hint of self-doubt ruptures my train of thought and therefore my eloquence. Now I'm questioning whether I'm even good at either? I think I am but if my abilities are lost so easily by the presence of another's intellect, then am I truly good at it? Perhaps it's all insignificant (how ironic) and I'm an overly anxious person as a result of comparing myself to others but always reaching the same conclusion.)

But anyhow, I will attempt to speak type my mind more for myself than anyone else who stumbles across this post; as even if one does, in the end, they will realize that all judgment is so insignificant anyways. 

What seems like a massive joke we have all deluded ourselves of, calling our reality, is the fact that we keep on living each and every moment with some sense of disease, discomfort, dissatisfaction, stress, or fear within us. 

Not to say, I don't live this way, but I feel as though I keep encountering sudden realizations here and there where I truly think to myself- what is the point? and not in a depressing, "I want to die, everything is meaningless" sort of way- no, it's quite the opposite actually. 

It feels like a joke that we all know that we only have about 85 years here (and even that's pushing it). We know that in the end, the only thing that will matter is the feeling of the present moment in which you are passing away (yes you will reflect on your life and all the memories, etc, but there is a moment of sudden self-presence) yet we live in this cycle day after day of anxiety, stress, and helplessness for the imagined future.

We're all aware of our time here, right? And, we are all aware of the fact that this will end, that everything is temporary, and that in the greater scheme of things- we are so insignificant. 

I've been visualizing people I see, even myself, as little energy illuminations rather than seeing people in their human form. It's as if we are simply just clusters of energy, of consciousness that inhibits the outer human shell. Perhaps that illumination changes in color or vibrancy and strength according to how you react or present your thoughts and emotions to the world and to other energies, or what you hold close to your heart and let determine your life. 

I think to myself then, shouldn't this make us recognize how powerful we are? How much we have to explore and experience? How significant we can make our lives because we are so insignificant? 

If you truly think about it, are you making the most of the time you have here? Is our only purpose to get good grades, get a job, make money, be able to afford stuff, etc.? 

I can't help but keep thinking about the fact that we've made these rules for ourselves- we've created our own pain. This society, the way it is constructed, to prioritize some, to give others none, to keep you unsatisfied, to keep fueling sadness. This system that keeps fueling our pain - haven't we created it all? How can we, and are we just letting this happen to us? 

As harboring this human body, the outer shell, being this conscious energy form that deciphers and understands its own emotions, comprehends feelings - are we doing the most with what it has to offer? 

Every time I feel something, respond or react to a situation or emotion that I hadn't predicted, regardless of overthinking and over-protecting myself by making sure I was ready to take on anything possible... When I feel something beyond the possibility of what I thought I could feel or would encounter I am truly taken aback as to how obscure, how unique, and how intense these emotions can be. 

How someone else will never feel something that you do - they can share it with you, but your emotions will always be yours only, and you or no one else can even know for 100% that how or what you feel is the exact same. Empathy or sympathy is the closest we come to it, but it's absolutely baffling and disarming for me when a certain situation results in emotion I didn't think I could feel.

It seems as though the answer to one of the biggest questions - what is our purpose here? can be found through this thinking.

Isn't it just to relish in the fact that we can truly just be?  

Even the shittiest of emotions- grief, sadness, loneliness, depression- are all a part of the human experience are they not? Whether you believe in reincarnation or not is a different topic, but regardless of it, you can't dismiss the truth- that you will never experience things the same way ever, ever again. Like emotion and the ability to comprehend it, express it, feel it and control it is such a minuscule difference between human beings and any other being or form, but it makes us so much more powerful. It gives us consciousness. 

You have these 85 approx years to keep feeling and exploring what it is to be human- how this ability to be conscious is a gift, a very unique chance to live a life with such depth to it, one which can hold so much meaning and one that has so much to offer. Yet, we allow the fear- of failure, of disappointing or of being in debt or expressing yourself in ways that divert from the 'norm'- all obstacles we have created for ourselves and within ourselves that hinder us from recognizing the simplest truth of life.  

I do know that when I think this way, it comes from a place of privilege. Of course, and hopefully, you as a reader would understand that this way of thinking I am able to exercise or am encouraging people to adopt, cannot be seen as an applicable or appropriate commentary towards the emotions, lives, and experiences of those in the contexts of war, famine, poverty, intellectual disability and such. But, I do believe that even a second of accepting the present moment and realizing the limited time you have here and how you make use of that time, as a grounding technique, can bring some sort of ease to anyone. 

I know this may still not be applicable to many circumstances that I am oblivious to or ignorant of, but one where I can apply it or it has helped me, is one that I feel many can relate to as the context within which I am, and from which my anxieties emerge, is a context shared by many. 

I was asked about a certain relationship in my life, and how I was dealing with it. I responded by saying that as long as that relationship adds to my life, not hinders my peace or happiness, I will allow it to be a part of my life, as, without it, I was satisfied and happy and don't need this relationship. That, if I feel like it is causing me more pain than pleasure then I will cut it out of my life because I am responsible for my own happiness and have the right to remove anything that disrupts that. 

For a while that seemed like such a mature way of thinking- a way to live that will ensure my emotional stability and remove the most possibility of hurt, and I thought I was doing a great job with this mindset because especially for me- someone who is affected quite easily and on a very hard-hitting level when something goes wrong- because I was putting up my boundaries and choosing the life I wanted to live, through what I thought was 'protecting myself'. 

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"Shouldn't you want to experience it, I mean, as a writer?"...

...The way you experience things, the way you use the time you have to feel (or not feel) certain things, are all in your control. So, shouldn't I use exactly that to my advantage, and yes, especially as a writer? 

I should I want to do the most I can with my time here, I want to experience it all, I want to live through it and fight it and love it and be engulfed in the endless possibilities because I can. Because I truly have control over one thing and that is the state of my mind, how I react to things, how I let them affect me, and how I give them the power to make or break the rest of the experiences and emotions left to feel and explore. 

Being in a shitty situation is only shitty because you get fixated on it and let it determine how you will act or how it will reflect on your future. A shitty situation can be great, and necessary for direction, but most make it into a negative, painful experience for themselves.  

It sounds simple- to be in a situation and to learn from it, but it's just as easy to let it ruin you. I think it happens often, especially when depression and anxiety are in the mix, it makes it easier to trip into a downward spiral of self-loathing, hatred for others, discomfort with certain situations, or barricading certain events to happen in your life or from feeling certain things. 

However, I think what I'm trying to do instead, now that I've thought it out differently, is realize that the power I hold over myself is far greater than anything that happens externally. 

You have endless emotions to uncover and experiences to encounter within the given years of your life and I think being stubborn and sticking to certain ways or being rigid about change or how you perceive things seems like such a waste of potential. 

I've found one thing that helps me with this, is utilizing what some may see as a limitation.
As we all thrive on communication, on understanding others' words and actions, which in turn leads us to react in a certain way or say certain things. But that in itself is so powerful. If you simply take a step back before you react or say something, recognize the power of silence. Recognize the power of being in control; of how you perceive things. Acknowledge that you may be wrong or that there may be another way to think about certain things. Or simply understanding that you don't always have to exhibit your thoughts or feelings immediately- gives you so much control over your life and how you live it. 

A big thing I need to remind myself of often is the fact that I box myself up and label it. Or, I box up a certain way I feel, react or respond, and trap it, allowing for it to take over me, guide me and determine my future. Now, although it's something I'm still working on actively; not encasing heavy, negative, or destructive emotions/ reactions and giving other possibilities and assumptions the benefit of the doubt, what has been the most helpful is being kind to myself and my thoughts. 

If a negative through, assumption, or conclusion arises within me, I've been trying to stabilize it and explore what other ways the situation that arose that initial negativity, actually has to offer, logically. 

If my brain can conclude a very bad thing to result from what I've experienced, for example, then surely there are good or slightly less bad things that could also result from a situation?

The quote "It's never as good as you'd want, but it's never as bad as you'd dread", sums up the approach, I reckon. 

I think I've realized that the one way to truly be in control and overall more perceptive about what or how you do things, is by realizing that your actions and words are the only way to really communicate something or to let something have power over you- example, if something makes you angry and you act out on that angry aggressively, then you've let that emotion overpower you and you've become a slave to it almost. 

However, if you approach it differently, allowing yourself to feel the anger, but also taking a step back to recognize what triggered that emotion and realizing that you have the power to no let it bother you- that there may be other ways to look at the situation or act on it- being able to take a break, reflect on how you feel and then being consciously in-charge and in control of your following actions and words, makes life so much easier. 

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Originally this post was going to be just phrases such as the ones below that I would write out to myself throughout the week that help me stay grounded and help clear the fog of anxious and depressive thinking I often find myself in. 

I've still kept them in because they're much more accessible and simpler than reading all the above tangents, and in addition to the phrases, I've added in some scanned pages from my beloved writing book that has truly been on a magical ride with me the past few days. Not much is comprehensible from the pages, but it pleases me to add in the photos as a reflection of my cluttered thinking transforming into words, sentences, and paragraphs. 

Also, it would be criminal not to mention The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle, a book that has had a huge impact on me and helped me get out of my depressive state several times. Would recommend it to any and everyone. 

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It will be okay. What you feel right now, won't last forever. 

You get to experience this. It's all something you will look back at - maybe in a few weeks, months, or years. It feels like a lot right now, but one day it won't, and those emotions will transform into another. 

The things that aren't working out now, that are stressing you out and overwhelming you, are so small. So tiny. In the current moment, it seems massive, but time heals and time passes and so does the intensity of these emotions.

Look at yourself- your body- the shell in which you exist and will for the rest of this experience- you are so small, things are so insignificant.

Lockdown gives me the ability to rest, to take things slow, to create, and to enjoy a quiet life. 

What's happening right now is it. You just have to accept things for what they are rather than being stressed over it or wishing it wasn't this way because that won't change things. If you want things to be different, you have to change them.

Whatever ends up happening, you can make it through- rely on your instincts to handle situations rather than overanalyzing them from the beginning- thinking about all the possible situations doesn't solve anything- it creates stress.

You were happy and have the ability to be again. All feelings are temporary. 

Things change so quickly, you don't even know.

20

21st year of my life has begun and it's time to reflect back on how 20 went. 
 An entire year's worth of memories, growth, and disasters to summarise. 

PS. Not going to lie, writing for other people (interning/ working as a freelancer) has made me so cautious about what I write and how I write it. When you're doing work for someone else, you have a style guide to follow, certain rules to adhere to and, you start doubting your abilities as a writer. So, being back on this platform, a space where I truly have all control and rein over what I say and how I say it, feels almost surreal. I can make mistakes, I can choose the topics, I can do whatever I want, I'm elated. 

Anyways, 21. It's been just over a week since my birthday, and it was a nice, pleasant day. Usually, I despise the 27th of April, just because there are so many expectations and assumptions attached to that day and often the attention you get on your birthday doesn't seem genuine and it makes me uncomfortable. This time around though, I barely had the time to think about any of that. I went to class, then work and then had dinner with. friend (which was the sweetest way to end the day). Also, I didn't have post-birthday depression, which for me, has been a very real thing for the past couple of years, but perhaps this is all to credit to my age lol. 

On that note, I wanted to originally write this post to recap and talk about what I've learned and how I evolved in my 20s, and now that my off-topicy rant is out of the way, I'll attempt to remember all the changes I've seen in myself the past year, what I've learned and what I'll take with me for years to come. 

Starting off, I have to just say that I have the worst memory ever. I mean I think it's always been bad, but as time goes on, it's definitely getting worse, so this post will be interesting. I'm going to try going through my camera roll to remind me of what I actually did. 

Ok so I want to start off with the fact that the majority of my 2020 was spent indoors, in lockdown, and so this image seems like a good start. 

I went to the BLM parade, which was right before the lockdown really settled. 

Personally, and I a aware of the privilege I hold in saying this, the lockdown, being isolated, and having to spend time with myself was really good for me. I leaned that I can be alone. It also allowed me to be so much more productive. It was probably my most successful year in terms of my career and finances. I kept myself busy, did some freelance work, started my art shop and Buy Me a Coffee page and overall just had more time to put energy into these creative outlets. 

Yes, the pandemic was difficult, it of course impacted my mental illness but along with that came resilience. I became stronger, I became more connected to myself. 

Got my first tattoo (around June I think), and a photo from BLM  

Photo taken by a lesson lmao

Also, despite the lockdown, I met a lot of people in 2020. I made some really close friends, but I also figured out how to put myself first and not be such a people pleaser. For so long it was almost impossible for me to accept that someone didn't like me. I used to stay in toxic friendships, not speak up someone said something I didn't agree with, and put up with those who made me feel like shit. But over the last year, honestly, love and respect for myself have overtaken my need to be liked by everyone. I'm grateful for the people I met and the lessons I learned, but I think I'm happier about the fact that I've cut out certain people or that things played out in such a way that certain people aren't in my life.

There were some pretty crazy things that happened last year and although at the time I was a bit taken aback, it didn't even take e too long to overcome those things. And now, I have really weird but interesting stories to tell lol. 

Spending a lot of time alone meant a lot of Friday nights and weekends alone with little to no chance of even stepping out of my tiny ass room. Thankfully, I started talking to and got closer to some of the people I lived with. It made me realize how thankful I was that I was at least living with other people around me, not like I did in 2018, completely alone because I would've actually gone insane. 

Loud phone calls my floormate made, that used to annoy me so goddamn much, now made me smile because it was some sort of solace that another human existed. 

I think that change- how I started looking at things differently and how I could identify my capacity to change and grow, is something that I really cherish, and I'll hold on to that for a very long time. 

Enchanted Club has seen this image before, but I couldn't talk about the things I learned at 20 and how I grew, without talking about my spirituality and my growing interest in things like energies, manifestation, and looking at the world from a different perspective. 

Sounds a bit demeaning when I say that all of this was triggered upon my viewing of 'Surviving Death' on Netflix, but that show sort of launched me into this. I had known about manifesting and karma before this and had loved my crystals but from that point onwards, I really started taking things seriously. There was a shift in the way I lived my life and how I dealt with situations. I realized that we truly are just a shell, with a soul, a consciousness, and once our time to experience this human form has ended (typically 80 years approx.) we simply return back to the elements, ready for our energy to transfer into some other being. Getting this through my head, helped me be more realistic about situations, take more risks, and move on from things quicker. I started looking at any situation (good or bad) as an experience I get to have or an emotion I get to experience, rather than complaining about it or feeling like it's ruining my life.

I also went through what was probably the most frustrating physical (?) problem I'd ever have to go through- getting a fucking stye on my literal eyelid. This literally grew to such a huge size and was right on my face. It made me so so insecure and made me reevaluate how much I care about my appearance. It made me cry, it made me want to not look in the mirror, it made me so depressed. Eventually, I had to get a mini surgery to get it removed and it was a pain in the ass but I think it made me realize that I should be grateful for what I have. When I was looking back at photos from before I had the stye, I was mad at myself for never appreciating the fact that I had all my features, that I was healthy. Looking at past photos of me made me realize that I need to stop putting myself down based on my looks all the goddamn time, that I need to stop comparing myself to others. 

This picture doesn't truly capture the extent to which that stye grew lol, I don't think any of you'd want to see that, but it was there for such a long time and it was painful and annoying. It's a lot better now as it had a few months post-surgery to heal, but what an adventure. I swear shit like this only happens to me. 

Another photo taken by another lesson

Again, the number of new people I met last year was insane. I was a lot more adventurous and a lot less fearful and it allowed me to engage with new situations and converse with new people. I met some of the nicest people through mutual friends and although I only talked to them once, on that day, it restored my faith in humanity and gave peace to the part of me that always believes everyone hates me. 

Another notable difference has been in the way I look at Perth. I think it's fair to say that I haven't had the best relationship with Perth. I just relate it to high school and when I'm back there, my mental health often deteriorates. However, this time around and as a result of the previous growth and character development I had endured, I saw Perth and all it had to offer, in a different light too. 

I realized the copious amount of love that was there for me. How much easier things were when my parents were around to help me with it, how less lonely I left, and how much I love my dog lol (this I was already aware of). 

I think the biggest surprise was when I realized that actually, I wouldn't mind living in Perth in the future. I used to be unable to even fathom the idea of living in Perth, but being back this time around, I think I felt secure. I felt like maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world if I lived in Perth again. It diminished so much of my anxiety and stress about graduating from uni because I didn't have this hypothetical dread over me anymore about what if I wasn't able to secure a job in Melbourne because now the idea of Perth doesn't hold such a negative place in my heart. 

20 also brought with it the most body confidence I've ever had. I think I was my heaviest and my lightest weight that year and although yes there were definitely times where I criticized my body and compared it to others, there was a lot more self-love. Even at my heaviest, I accepted myself. At my lightest, I felt so good. 

My self-confidence and my relationship with my body are still a work in progress, but how far I have come, is something I'm very proud of. 

On a lighter note (?), I also made the worst hair decision ever lol. I've had blue and pink and blonde hair but those were all better decisions than getting a bloody perm and having my hair cut to look like... that. 

When I style it, I guess it looks fine but god do I hate it so much. I never realized how lucky I was to have straight, healthy hair. It literally had so much potential and it was so low maintenance. 

Its grow a bit since I committed that crime, but it's still a long way to go before I feel like myself again with my pretty straight hair :( 

Also, ps. straight hair people definitely have the privilege. Now that I've been on both sides of the spectrum, I can conclude this. 

Lastly, I NEED to talk about my writing progress!!! 

In the last year, I've worked as a proper freelance writer, I've had an amazing marketing job, I've started my own shop and I've been published with FJ (and now I'm an intern there... crying). I'm actually making MOVES and I am so thrilled.

It's let me become so much more comfortable with the fact that I'm graduating in about 2 months. I just have so much more confidence and I feel like I have greater agency over my own life. 

Plus I have to mention my increasing education and knowledge about feminism and its importance. I have become so involved with and so much more educated about the injustice in my daily life that stems from being a woman and learning about those things, being able to spot them out, and speaking up about them has made me feel powerful. You can check out my piece on this topic here. 

(Adding this in later cause I completely forgot this segment of my life lol but I've also gotten better at setting boundaries!!!) 

Anyways, I think I've rambled on long enough. Pretty sure I've left out important and noteworthy chunks of what happened, but this is as far as my memory (and my photos) will take me. Also, if there were grammatical errors or spelling mistakes in this, I'm glad lol, I'm not going to proofread this, I need to practice my autonomy hereby being my own boss and making my own decisions (cause I get to do that here) and so the decision is that simply do not care if this post has any mistakes :)

Not even sure how many people will read this entire thing but if you did, thank you for recapping my 20th year with me. So many exciting things to come, so much growth to happen, so many people to meet and so many lessons to learn. Can't wait to grow into and become a powerful, independent woman. 

With love, 
Aastha// A2

Quarantine Notes

---- FOUND THIS IN MY DRAFTS FROM JULY OF 2020----
I have left it unedited 

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Melbourne is in lockdown for a second time now and it's literally the first day of the restrictions being in place. I'm already spiralling downwards. When it happened the first time around, I kept myself buy with uni work and I didn't realise how much relief I felt knowing that my floor-mates were basically going through the same thing, because if they could do it, so could I. But this time around, it the fucking holidays. How am I meant to keep myself busy and occupied when I can't even leave the enclosure that are the 4 walls of my tiny student accomodation room. I know that there are worse things happening to people and my privileged ass sounds so stupid right now, but I feel trapped. I'm scared that I'll fall into the lap of depression again and I'll be in pain.  can try and tel myself that I am in control of how I make myself feel but it's difficult to keep repeating that to myself when theres not much else to occupy my brain with. I have a lot of worries about the next uni semester too and it all just seems so much. I had a thought the other day that what if my entire lifespan is spent in this virus infected world where there are constant restrictions and limitations. The thing it, that that is a very real possibility. I'm afraid that I'll spend my life, not really have lived it, trapped. 

I'm exhausted and tired but not enough to fall asleep too, I lie awake for hours on end and keep waking up mid sleep too, there is just so much frustration and hopelessness. A part of me knows that maybe the intensity of my emotions right now can be blamed on getting my period soon, I know I get over neurotic around that time of the month, but GOD do I feel just gross. 

Right now, I'm literally just typing for the sake of having something to do, so maybe I'll write out a brief description of my dream last night. It was sort of like the Indian movie Highway, I was basically getting infatuated by someone who worked for my family at my aunty's home back in Jaipur. I had just arrived from somewhere and he had helped my unload my luggage from a bus, only for it to all somehow fall out of the several bags I was carrying (?), but anyways I was repacking everything that had fallen out when I realised I had forgotten to pick up one of my suitcases from the bus that was stored in one of those side  storage spots busses usually have, and so basically I asked that guy who helped me to unload if he can go get it for me, but just then the bus left. So he called up the bus driver for me and went all the way to where the bus had travelled to, to get my suitcase for me and even put up with the grumpy bus driver (basically this man was simping me lmao). That's about what I remember from it. I know at some point I saw my parents there too and the there was a car driving past where I was sat and repacking my bags when the car suddenly made a loud sound and one of its wheels bursted (?). Anyways, I tend to forget what I dream most of the times so maybe to keep myself occupied throughout the day, if I do dream, I'll write about it. 

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I woke up after a 3 hour sleep this morning, my body keeps waking itself up at such odd times. I'm always tired and I fall asleep so late, it doesn't make sense to me why I'd just wake up naturally after such a short amount of sleep. I do wish that when that happens though, I stay awake instead of falling back asleep because then I over compensate and over sleep. I eventually got out of bed around 1pm then.... I feel disgusting when I get up that late. There is no in between, but I guess today I didn't feel so guilty for sleeping in till that late because it is holidays right now, there is nothing much I can do since it's lockdown and I got my period. The things with periods is that it lets me feel sorry for myself. It lets me actually take a break without feeling guilty or without driving myself into depression, so even though I'm in physical pain, I can at least use that as an excuse to give myself a rest. 

I started watching the show Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, I needed something new to binge and I finished a whole season last night, but now that just means that I watched the good part of the show in one sitting. Just like any other show (except Brooklyn99) it just gets bad after season 1 and yeah it's already starting to disappoint 3 episodes into season 2.

I went out to pick up my takeaway a few hours ago and I'm surprised how many people are still out. It's like no one in this area wants to accept that there is a second lockdown, there are people everywhere and even the library was open?? By the time I got there though, it was going to close in about half an hour but I decided to just go in and look through a book or something just for a change in routine. I'm glad I went because honestly just being away from my room, even if it was only for 30 mins, kept me somewhat sane today. I just flipped through a book about Ancient Egypt. I wish the library was open on weekends, if it's still open next week, I'll definitely go in even if its just to read my own book but in a different space. 

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Just came back from a quick trip to Coles. It didn't really feel like lockdown today, it was so gloomy and drizzling the entire day and usually when it's like this I don't think about leaving my house anyways so I didn't have this constant urge to be social or leave to do something. It wasn't until I stepped out in the dark to get some ice cream from Coles when it all sort of hit me again. It's only been like 3 days of lockdown and I really don't know how I'm going to make it through 6 more weeks of this. I'm grateful that I have the internet to keep me busy and my friends to always chat to but not having anyone irl is going to turn me insane. 

On another note, I made a curry today using one of those instant Japanese curry blocks and it tasted like this curry I love, which I used to pay $13 for, so it was a nice surprise that I could just make it myself. I usually hate cooking, I don't get people who enjoy it, it takes so much time and the whole thing is so subjective if you think about it. I don't have patience as it is so that probably adds to my dislike of it. 

I'm glad I've been writing everyday, even if its just sort of briefly recapping my day. Roald Dhal used to write everyday, regardless of if he had something to write about or not. Rupi Kaur also said somewhere that the key to being a good writer is just to do it everyday. They're both amazing writers and I mean if it worked for them, there must be something to it. I know for me, I produce my best work when I'm in the depths of my depression but recently I've been thinking about how long it's been since I created a fictional piece. I used to be so good at them in high school, when they gave us a picture and asked us to write a story around it. I remember everyone used to complain about about the task but honestly that used to be my favourite thing ever. I want to get back into doing it but I'm sort of scared that I don't have the skill anymore and that I'll just end up disappointing myself (or maybe I'm just being lazy). 

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I am so sick and tired of seeing thin pretty girls I’m just so fucking over it. My eating disorder has been so triggered these past few days, it’s definitely the product of just sitting around in isolation without literally anything to do that has my head wrapped up in all sort of bullshit about myself. I know none of this shit really matters, my body weight, how I look and what size I wear are all such shallow things at the end of the day and when you look at it on the greater spectrum of things that should matter but it’s so difficult to be in love and live with yourself when the whole world seems to hate you for those exact reasons. I genuinely was getting better at accepting myself and I’m definitely in a better place than I was even last year but that’s why it’s so fucking frustrating to feel this about myself. Everywhere on Instagram are just thin girls, like how the fuck do I look at that and not think to myself that it’s my fault I don’t look like them and that if I looked like them then everyone and me would think I’m pretty because those girls are pretty. Like I’m not supposed to have a fat stomach and my such big thighs and if those other girls can be thin and elegant then why can’t I have that fuck I’m so tired.

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It's been a difficult few days. I'm not doing too well with my mental health but at the same time what I'm feeling is so far beyond my current understanding of my emotions. I feel empty and helpless but at the same time I know there is no point dwelling on it. I didn't write the last 2 days, whats on my mind I cannot say. I guess I feel a bit better today, I'm just trying to distract myself from thinking about it all day. I am tired but its okay. 

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Recently I've become more aware of my autonomy. I feel a lot more in control of my life and I feel like I'm developing a sense of self. I have always felt like a side character in my own story, as cheesy it is to put it like that, its been difficult for me to think of myself as my own person and make decisions for myself, I have always felt like I was 'someone's something', like my relations to others is what made me, rather than just having my own identity. Referring to Erik Erikson's stages of Psychosocial Development, I'm around the adolescents to young adulthood stage, which makes complete sense because in this period I'm having inner conflicts about Identity and Role Confusion, as well as Intimacy and Isolation. I can see how this chart fits in with my state of personal development and it's given me a peace of mind. 

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The lockdown situation is not getting any better, and honestly I can't expect it to with how people are dismissing all regulations and rules. I'm glad that they're becoming stricter as the days go by and the number of cases increases, because its about time that we hold people accountable. I know its hard, its hard for me too, I want to have friends over, I want to have something to do everyday, I don't just want to be stuck in my room, but we don't have any other options right now. I'm so ready for this all to be over. These days I wake up and I have no agenda, I have no routine, I have nothing to do. Its frustrating. I get up, and spend the majority of my day just watching documentaries or movies, where is this all going to get me? 

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I got tested for Covid yesterday, I've had some symptoms for a few days now so I thought I might have it. Getting it done was the most uncomfortable thing every. They stick it up your nose so high, worst feeling ever. I don't know, after I got home I just burst into tears. I felt so overwhelmed. There had been son much anxiety built up inside of me and I was tired and 

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I feel so empty today. I woke up feeling a bit off anyways but I tried my best to lift up my mood with a workout, but throughout the day it just kept getting worse. I ended up going for a 2 hour walk, I don't know what I expected to get out of it because I'm back home now and my legs and back hurt so much lol. I just want to cry so I feel better, but I can't get myself to. I miss home too, but I know if I was back, within 2 days I'd just want to be back. It's frustrating not feeling home anywhere. I hope I get out of this funk soon because I really don't want it to spiral out of hand. I need to remind myself that the only thing I have control over is my state of mind and how I think about things. I know this will pass, it won't last forever. 

Been a While

I've been back in Perth for about a month now (I would count the exact days but I don't want to depress myself), and it's been odd. I mean it's 2021 now and that in itself doesn't really seem real. Where did it all go? Everything is happening so fast. I would expect time to move slower here in Perth at least, but I suppose this is an indication to let go of my notions about this place being stagnant. Perth may be small and boring but that doesn't affect my life anymore, I'm no longer attached to this place and so my body cycle no longer lags with it. Anyways, it's around 9.30am right now and I'm just going on this tangent. I'm suffering from a flu (one that I cannot even go to the GP about as they'll fear I have Covid, which I don't and I have sound reasons to know so), and it's sort of made me wanna get back into writing. It's a weird concept because I go long periods of time where I don't write and I just make myself feel shitty about it. Everyone always says that writing is a skill that needs to be practiced everyday to perfect and then when I end up going months without producing any good work I just feel like maybe I'm not made to do this, but then I'm like maybe I'm not letting myself achieve what I'm capable of because I'm plain lazy.  Anyways, now that I'm sick and feel gross again, I suddenly have the urge to just type away whatever pops into my head. It's the only consistent thing with my writing- to start pouring out everything once I feel disgusting. Maybe it's an attempt to let go of the weight little by little that feels like it's been pushing my head under the mud (does that even make any sense). 

Finished this piece in Cervantes

Now onto another rant for a bit because again, I need to get this weight off me too, and because my fingers seem to just be tying away at this point (making up for all those months I didn't), I've come to the realisation (and I knew this before, but now it's a lot more apparent, perhaps because it's been happening a lot more often) that I have absolutely no idea or no way to predict the new types of emotions and feelings I'm going to encounter as I age. I don't known what about this concept irks me so much- I mean I understand that it makes me feel helpless because of the uncertainty and uncomfortabity but then why do I respond so severely to this than I do to any other aspects of my life that I know will change with time? I know I can delve into my psyche a lot here and conclude that it's what I have the least control over- how changes in my life that are out of my hands will inevitably impact my emotions and how i have absolutely no control over that- but I guess I'll tone it down a tad now. It's just that in the past couple of months I have had to encounter and sit with new emotions that were brought on by situations or circumstances that I never thought I'd have to face. It was even more disarming I guess because I'm such an over-thinker and I make sure I evaluate every single possibility when it comes to anything, and so to have been so thrown off guard recently, so many times, by happenings that I didn't account for, made me feel helpless beyond what I can explain. It doesn't scare me, it just bothers me that I didn't even consider any of those situations a possibility. However, I'd say a thing I truly cherish about myself is my ability to take any of these feelings- no matter how inconvenient- and flip it on it's head and remind myself that I can always take away a great story/ poem/ work of art etc. if I look at it as a lesson and an experience and not just something thats positioned me to lose something or someone or that has 'set me back'. 

As a writer, I take everything that happens to me as an opportunity to be written about, and I'll keep that with me even with the future unpredictable situations and feelings that are to inevitably show up.

19

nineteen taught me

to love myself

nineteen taught me

that i was stronger than i thought

nineteen taught me

i deserved love

nineteen taught me

 stepping out my comfort zone was easier than i could've ever imagined

nineteen taught me

i am going to be okay in solitude

nineteen taught me

my autonomy

nineteen taught me

 don't need anybody, but its nice to have good people around

nineteen taught me

                           i was more than grateful for all life had given me

nineteen taught me

about myself

nineteen taught me

   to remember not everyday was going to be a bad one

nineteen taught me

not to fear my sexuality

nineteen taught me

i was so capable

nineteen taught me

i could make a change

nineteen taught me

i was in control

nineteen taught me

the good ones will stay

nineteen taught me

true self confidence

nineteen taught me

what happiness was

nineteen taught me

love

nineteen taught me

the extent of my productivity

nineteen taught me

i had a clearer idea of what i want in life

nineteen taught me

i am continue to growing

nineteen taught me

not to make assumptions

nineteen taught me

i can make it

nineteen taught me

i am my own being

nineteen was a lot,
it taught me so much about myself.

i'm really introspective as it is, but in this year of my life i truly saw change in myself, i saw growth, i saw myself evolve.

i gave myself the mantra 'the only thing you can control is how you think about things', and i stuck with that, it helped me and it allowed me to stay in touch with my emotions, it allowed me to have more than my sorrow to focus on.

i'm scared to go into my 20s,
i'm scared to age,
not just because of the societal values of women and its deterioration with time,
but because with every year i have less time and more responsibilities and expectations,
i do not fear either of the them,
i fear failure but nineteen taught me i was stronger than eighteen
when i didn't even think that was possible

i can only hope and rely on myself that 20 kicks nineteen's ass..

Ending 2019

As the year comes to a close and we step into a whole new decade, I wanted to reflect on some happening in life - lessons I've learned and thoughts I've had; what I want to take with me going forward and what I've chosen to let go of, but learn from.

• A recent falling out with a friend group reminded me of the importance of allowing myself to trust my gut feeling, always. If something feels off, acknowledging it is so necessary! I know my anxiety can often heighten my paranoia but accepting the sense of doubt and lingering questions about my value when I'm around others, isn't something I should push aside. I know now not to dismiss my emotions and feelings for others. I know not to spread myself thin. No one but I can look out for myself.
  
  

• The second half of 2019 was the peak of my self-esteem. Contrary to what those around me might think based on my crude self- deprecating humour, I thought more than 5 times in the past few months that perhaps I wasn't bad looking or that maybe I won't let my weight define me and my self- worth. Although definitely still a work in progress and a server need to compare myself less to others, not take comments or remarks of others personally and to not seek validation, it was refreshing to feel good about myself.
  

• The above point was a result of conscious effort I have put in the last few months to revise and repeat to myself the mantras - "Why would I let myself feel that way?", "I have the power to control how I feel and how I react" and "What I think and feel cannot be heard nor judged by those around me. My thoughts are my own and will forever be. The one space I can truly, therefore, I shouldn't fear the freedom of myself". I cannot explain it in any other way but by saying that I simply flicked a switch in my head that lit the fluorescent wall decal piercing through my brain the luminous idea of my power and ability to control me.
  
  
• The frustration I experience of feeling unheard is just the result of not speaking out in the fear of rejection or ridicule. I've had more than plenty of experiences where I have chosen to stay quiet, only to then feel defeated and infuriated with myself when someone more confident in themselves got credit for an idea I could've just as easily expressed. This fear of being laughed at, that stems from past traumas, needs to be left just there, in the past. It's time to allow myself to speak my mind and accept that yes, maybe sometimes a judgment may follow, but that I can only use it to my advantage and build tougher skin. 

I hope going into 2020 and for the rest of the years to come I can continue to grow and reflect on my past using it to my benefit. 2019 was quite an interesting year, not bad in any way, just very different to any before. It was definitely a year of growing and maturing, learning how to let go of the past and how to keep control on my emotions.

Thank you to anyone who read my posts this year and supported my writing, whether it was here or on my Instagram (@aasthameow/ @enchantedclub). I am so grateful that I have this platform to share my works on and the support I get, nothing makes me happier. I hope this year was good to you and that the next is even better. I manifest nothing but happiness, growth and good health in 2020, for me and for you. All my love and best wishes, Aastha.