Lock on green background

Remembering who I am


I started my day telling myself that today I will remember who I am. I know who I am and who I was. I will remember what I truly want. All day I was full of energy, I managed to get done what I usually would in 2-3 days (work-wise). Then at the end of my working day I felt a little mentally drained but I was still buzzing. Feeling calm and content. When I came home, I poured myself a glass of wine to enjoy it in my little garden while writing about my future, finalising my life goals. That’s when it hit me. Hard.

A roller-coaster of emotions. As I was forming each letter with my pen, I started remembering feelings. Excitement, disappointment, pain, hope, gratitude, extreme joyous happiness. Empathy for everything. Calmness. I grabbed another notebook to write about this intense experience. But how do I express such magnificent emotions? I simply can’t shove them into words and sentences.

It feels like if a tall building has just collapsed and the pieces have fallen into their “right” place. They created a brand new building that is so ancient at the same time, I’ve been looking at it for centuries. I lived inside this building, I just haven’t recognised it until now. From the deepest parts of my heart, I wish you dear reader to find your old-new building as well. The fact that you are reading this is already evidence that you are on the right path to discover it.

Throw away all the directions you’ve been given by others. No one else can lead you to this place. With that said, remain faithful. Have faith in yourself, your instincts, that feeling in your gut. Don’t chase it though. It will chase you instead when you’re ready and truly want it. I am now holding the key to the front door, so I say let’s step inside, shall we?


My future memories

This is not a poem. This is aimed to be lyrics for a song. The only obstacle I have is the fact that I have no singing voice. Like nothing at all, unless you want to be tortured then get me to sing. So if you get inspired by my words then feel free to #singmylyrics and link back your video or recording.

Verse 1

Lyrical or hysterical

Fictional or mental

Shut your judgemental instincts

And open your kindness within

You, of course. Who else I’d be talking about?

But now you know there is no way back out

Just keep marching ahead

With your head filled with illusionary images

Limiting your true knowledge

What am I talking about? You still don’t get it?

Wasted thoughts

They have no meaning if they’re not being spoken out loud

Or do they?

Someone must have thought of them



Drawing up one big circle and washing away the lines of time

Throwing in there all life experiences, watching them all shine

Should I just call it the present or my whole life instead?

When I recollect my future memories do I think in dates and years?

Or do I simply reminisce the events that are still fierce?


Verse 2

The limits

Heavy words shoved into a short sentence

Put a question mark at the end

To make it sound more complex

But in reality I’m only speaking about what you thought

Without worrying what my family and friends will know

Or perhaps I’m just creating fiction and these are not my ideas

But simply my imagination running around producing some crazy theories

Or could they be my future memories?



Drawing up one big circle and washing away the lines of time

Throwing in there all life experiences, watching them all shine

Should I just call it the present or my whole life instead?

When I recollect my future memories do I think in dates and years?

Or do I simply reminisce the events that are still fierce?


Verse 3

Tomorrow I did something stupid

My future memories are coming back to me in the past

At last

Watching what I said to my close ones

5 years from now

If I could see it and feel it how would I behave right now?

Would I tell myself that it will be all fine somehow?

Would I pat myself on the back

When all I did was slack?

Dreaming about how the past was in the future

Would it confuse my head?



Drawing up one big circle and washing away the lines of time

Throwing in there all life experiences, watching them all shine

Should I just call it the present or my whole life instead?

When I recollect my future memories do I think in dates and years?

Or do I simply reminisce the events that are still fierce?



I believe I will remember the feelings better

My past self is nodding and I have nothing against her

So it’s time to decide: feelings or actions?

What’s more important to me: the wholeness or the fractions?

Self-expression 101

I noticed that there is a new function on my Facebook profile. It says ‘Introduce yourself’ to show a bit about myself to my profile visitors. It is prompting me to ‘Describe who you are’. I am given 101 characters to do this. The end of my previous sentence already clocks in at 184 characters, without counting any spaces. How can I truly explain who or ‘what’ I am in such a limited manner? Have we really become so ignorant and lazy that we can’t pay attention to more than 101 characters when we are describing who we really are and what makes us ‘us’?

In addition to the extremely reduced attention span of the “modern human” another thing seriously bothers me. Is it just me who thinks that limiting what we want to say about ourselves will just encourage people to sum up the nicest, most amazing facts that will create another fake sparkle? Isn’t it bad enough that so many people already portray a false image of themselves on social media? I truly wish that we could all be a bit more humble, honest and truthful about ourselves when it comes to our online presence. At the end of the day, digital life has taken over a gigantic chunk of our actual life. It has become part of who we are.

So who am I in 101 characters? Outspoken. Positive. Witty. Clumsy. Thought-challenger. Creative. Occasionally funny. Coffee lover. Rain hater. Confident.

Match lit up

Too Real

I decided to let go and enjoy the “realness” a while ago. This little piece was born while I was resisting to believe that it could be true. 

I’m scared to the point that I just compared my state of mind to a fish being caught on a hook. It’s too late to swim away now and I honestly don’t want to, however there is that sceptical side of me again. It’s trying to break through my sanity, my rational thinking to aggressively put out that twinkling little flame. I’m fighting the doubts, the unrealistic disbelief.

I’ve waited so long to finally let myself go and moments after I did it, for some unknown reason I’m trying to destroy all the hard work. I’m questioning whether I’m subconsciously enjoying this battle, whether I have a sick, twisted mind that’s letting out a satisfied laugh. But I come to the conclusion that no, I do not enjoy this. I want to go back to the previous moment where all seemed to fall into place. Where I felt I was finally in a place I’ve been trying to find for months. The home of my soul. Content, relaxed and truthful. With a permanent smile stretched across my soul and heart. I’m probably scared because I know that this is actually very real.

Let it be real, let it be scary, let it be exciting. I feel alive suddenly and that’s what is so scary.


A sneaky peek of ‘Sent Away’

My brain is currently giving birth to a fantasy / sci-fi novel. Here’s a tiny glimpse of it, enjoy!


I was very surprised they hadn’t noticed that I was in the basement as well. I didn’t deliberately stay quiet or forced my muscles into a standstill when they ran through the fake-wood door. Lying down behind the sofa might makes you think that I was hiding but in fact that’s the only place where I can connect to the wireless charging unit. My phone ran out of battery three hours ago and I had to find a place to upload my daily activity report. I couldn’t risk missing the deadline, again. I already have two warnings and trust me, I have no plans bagging the third one. It was 19:48 when I heard Lorna telling off Brian as she slummed down on the leather sofa that my friends call so-vintage. Exactly three minutes earlier I pressed ‘Submit’ for my upload and I let out a sigh, feeling quite pleased that I had 15 minutes to spare before I would receive my confirmation back.

So there they were, not even half a meter away from me – how can they not notice me? Well, I didn’t exactly throw them a ‘Welcome to the basement’ cheer when they rushed in. But still… they were so ignorant sometimes. Especially Brian. The amount of fights I had with him as a child! He’s not the typical older brother who would look out for his little sister. From time to time I got so angry at him, I was wishing they would send him away. He came close to it on 3 occasions. But as soon as he opens his mouth and gives his ‘Final Speech’ the jury would change his mind and let him stay. I never understood how it was possible. Once, maybe. But 3 times?! I used to wonder if it had something to do with his looks. So many girls were after him when he was in his twenties, even my friend Jessie fell desperately for him. She would not shut up about how Brian’s greyish blue eyes made her hypnotised. How his deep brown hair looked so neat yet sensual when he slicked it back. Or how she would gladly die if his bizarrely thick lips could seal hers. Ew. I pulled a disgusted face every time she described his facial features in this manner. You don’t want to hear these things about your brother.

Then one day I realised it wasn’t his looks. When the ‘No gender no physical attributes’ law came into effect I was sure his lucky days were over. The law stated that anyone being prosecuted needs to remain anonymous and presented behind a sound altering wall in front of the jury. This way no one would know if the accused is male or female or what they looked like. As Brian stood behind this wall on his third occasion, I was positive this would be the last time I see him. And yet, he managed to convince the judges that his good, compassionate personality only took a little tumble and he was ready for his big good deed. They let him stay, again. That was the last time he was giving his Final Speech.

“See little sis? This is how you deliver the perfect FP. It’s not like you would really need to know, you never get into any trouble. You must be so bored every single day.” The arrogance of his voice was increasing my blood pressure at a dangerous speed. It hit me there and then: it was his way of manipulating people with his words and nothing to do with his looks. This was about 1 year ago just when he was turning 30 becoming High Risk. And based on what I’m hearing from behind the sofa, I think I need to get prepared for his 4th time. But what the hell did he do dragging Lorna into his mess?

“It’s not about fear Brian, why don’t you get it? We need to have some structure. We can’t just live how we used to. You need to finally accept the fact that things have changed.” Lorna’s cheeks were shining with redness as she placed her shaking hand on Brian’s shoulder.

“I can’t accept it, I won’t.  Don’t you see? They are forcing us to do things we don’t want to do.” The words echoed with an arrogant undertone.

“What? You don’t want to help people? You don’t want to do a good deed every day? They are not asking us to lie, to rob or kill. If you feel that this one rule is so terrible then maybe you should be sent away” her voice trembled as she got to the end of her sentence. Brian shrugged his shoulder so forcefully that Lorna’s hand fell off of it slamming down onto the leather sofa. The redness in her cheeks became brighter and her chocolate brown eyes instantly got filled with tears. I thought this might be a good time to show my presence, as strangely I felt a little sorry for my brother. Not for Lorna for some reason.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but…” I said quietly and peeled myself off the floor slowly remaining in a sitting position.

“What the hell Lia?”

“I had to find a charging unit to upload my report. I’m guessing you haven’t done yours?” I asked. Actually it sounded more like a statement than a question and I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows. They were still sitting down twisting their backs around to see me on the floor. Lorna propped her arm on the top bit of the sofa and rested her head down on them letting out an exhausted sigh. Her hazel skin gave a magical contrast to the saffron coloured furniture. I always wished I could somehow swap my pale skin with hers. And her hair. Her curvy, dark caramel locks with my not-quite-brown-not-quite-blond straight mess. I was a little envious of her looks but then so was every female who saw her. There was something about Lorna that made you feel intimidated until she started talking to you. So humble, so cheerful and always ready to help someone.

“Not only he didn’t submit his report but told the jury that mine was a fake and it was him who did the good deed not me.” She said so calmly that really confused me. If he did that to me I would want to punch his model perfect face.

“What?! How could you do this to her Brian? And why?”

“Chill out sis, it’s what Lorna wanted.”

“No, I did not want this. I told you to do this my way, not your stubborn, manipulative way.” Now her voice sounded a tiny bit angry at least.

Brian jumped to his feet and took a dramatic deep breath as if he was about to go under water for a while.

“Manipulative? It’s justice, not manipulation. I have to prove them that I’m right. That WE are right.” The way his words came out of his mouth reminded me of his last Final Speech.

“Explain to me what’s going on?” I asked and swallowed back the fear that was stuck in my throat.

“Listen Lia” He looked at me with such brotherly love that I’ve never seen in his eyes before.

“Do you remember my last Final Speech? The part I was talking about you?”

“What?” No, no, no….don’t let this one be true. He’s a manipulative liar. He will say anything to turn the situation in his favour.

“Do you remember?”

Red brick wall

Writer’s block

I have moments when a strong urge to write is burning inside me, yet I cannot form a cohesive sentence. I know that I’m not the only one who faces this frustration occasionally. The question is: what do you do when this stubborn block hits your brain? Personally, I carry on writing and I end up with a hard-to-decipher, frustrated mumble. Like this one: 

Delete. Type. Delete, delete, delete. Start again. I have something very important to tell you, yet it doesn’t want to become a form of words. It burns my soul with its white fire and tightens my throat when I’m attempting to say it out loud. A heavy exhale. Yes that helps temporarily, let me do it again. Dizziness kicks in; well at least my physical symptoms are now in line with my emotional ones. Start typing again. My fingertips are hitting the keyboard at such a rapid speed that my skin is burning up. Sloooow down, this is not making sense. Delete, delete.

New paragraph. Organise the tornado of thoughts. I need to understand where to start and why do I want to start. Do I want to start? Stop confusing yourself even more, no questions. Just type. Two more sentences are formed, let me read them back. Doesn’t this sound miserable? Was that another question?! Hush now consciousness, this truth inside my soul needs to be born. It needs to be shared with you but firstly I need to admit it to myself and stop running away from it. This is not a rabies ridden dog trying to bite my arm off but this is…delete, delete.

The realisation hits so hard on my chest that I struggle to breathe for a few seconds. I do not know what it is that I must tell myself. It all remains the playhouse of Confusion.


It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Almost perfect – she thought sitting outside of the coffee shop where people were queuing for home made carrot cakes, non-fat lattes, full fat cappuccinos and everything else we are told to buy but can’t really afford. She took a sip of her freshly ground Italian coffee as she observed the crowd through her overpriced sunglasses. Her chair was facing the main square providing an excellent view of the street musician who was surrounded by that crowd she now decided to be unexciting. The musician however caught her full attention.

Her mind immediately started playing a movie starring her and the gorgeous guitar player.

“Marco what is this?”
“This for you mio amore, you can wear it around your beautiful neck, so I will always be close to your heart. See this? It says Dolce Vita. Do you know what that means?”

A young waitress interrupted her daydreaming waving in front of her face, asking if she needed anything else. She looked at the inpatient girl and shook her head without saying a word, and showed her the well known sign for ‘Bill please’ which increased the waitress’ blood pressure drastically.

“I can’t believe this woman” – the offended waitress whispered to her colleagues ear, taking her anger out on the till.
“Look at her, I’m sure she’s not even 30 but she acts like if she had the same life as the Queen; just because she’s got it all she could have said a thank you or at least something. What a stuck up bitch, I wish I had spit in her coffee.”

“Come on Kate don’t be like that”

“What? Like her? Oh look, look ‘I’ve been shopping at Swarovski, I need more ear-rings, doesn’t matter I have only two ears I have to have a hundred of these.’”

“Just give her the bill and no spitting!”. Kate forced on a perfect fake smile they teach in customer service workshops and leaving her pride at the till she walked over to the Queen wannabe and placed the bill on the table.

“€28.99? Mm not too bad” – thinking as she opened her wallet to get some money out. Next to the stack of €20 and €50 notes a shiny business card caught her attention:  Lali Bronson – divorce lawyer. “I need to stop putting this off, I’ll contact her this evening. Oh… no email address, only phone numbers” – she tore up the card and left it next to her bill, placing more money on the table than the waitress deserved. She rummaged through her handbag, looking for a pencil to leave a note for the waitress.

Her friend arrived just when she finished writing. As they walked away she told her how amazing the coffee was – by using sign language.