An essay on perception, pressure, and personality   Updated March 2026   “We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are.” Anaïs Nin   Part I   ‘It’s like I don’t even know you,’ someone said. ‘You’re behaving like someone else,’ said someone else. These are also things I’ve said. It’s odd how, over time, it seemed like something threatening to become a universal truth: that we should remain unchanged, and change poses trouble. It conflicted with my held beliefs. What I’ve found to be truer is that it’s only one small facet within a spectrum

I found myself at The Edge again. It’s that place you find yourself after battling with something larger than life to the point of giving in, lying back, and thinking: Do your worst, fucker.  The Edge has almost become an actual place for me. A low, seedy little dive bar in my mind (like my personal shack to Sherlock Holmes’ mind palace) that no-one, were it an Actual Place, would ever like to admit they’ve been to, whereas I’m a regular; I’m the one in the corner, replaying the same pitiful song on a battered, old jukebox, between knocking back

Write. Be specific, stay real, let it be as raw as it is; that’s the point. That’s the point of writing about it. Where I cannot write about it, I ask why? If I cannot express it in art, what am I hiding from myself? Is there anything I’m hiding? Or is it only a constraint on time and headspace holding me back? The latter, for sure… And these days, when I say headspace, I mean that there are those who are insistent that writing about most things will self-incriminate. I disagree. It is liberating, not just for the self.

I was not digging around in the past. It was enough to know where something was buried, that there was something buried to begin with. The tangibility of it gave my pain acknowledgement and in having that, I was able to admit and address my issues without as much fear.   I had to trust that between the time that thing was buried and the unearthing of it, I have grown enough so that the buried thing might quake in my shadow, might wither, and fade, so that I can finally have the light, so that it cannot choke the

An Open Acknowledgement of Things Falling Apart and Falling Together   My silence was mistaken for acceptance and blind obedience. In essence, I’m direct. I’m honest. I’m unafraid to stand up for someone in need—but I suppose by the time I had to defend myself, I was spent, and tangled—utterly undone—and utterly convinced I was worthless.   When I finally redefined my boundaries on my terms, it inevitably led to a freedom of sorts, and with it an eventual resilience, but before that terribly unglamorous transition back into womanhood, my efforts were met with outrage from those no longer holding

As a person, you are judged. Regardless of where you take or make your stand on any spectrum, if you’re alive, you will be judged, try as you might to avoid it. You’re judged when you’re too straightforward and judged when you’re too vague. You’re judged if you stand up for yourself but you’re also judged if you simply let someone take advantage of you. You’re judged for taking yourself too seriously and judged for not taking yourself seriously enough. You’re judged if you’re too fat or too thin, too well-groomed or too unkempt. You’re judged for what you appear to be.

Here are seven life lessons I wish I’d known when I was younger which also double as seven things I never want to forget:   1. Take Chances There are a million reasons not to try. You could fill a stadium with those reasons: What if it’s the wrong decision? What if you’re not good enough? What if you fail? If you never try, that’s the same as failure. Success is rooted in taking chances. Don’t wait for permission. You may not get it nor do you need it.   2. Don’t Wait Until You’re Ready It’s easy to put