15 Minute Countdown

Self-discovery really does sound cheesy. 

Fitting in has never been my sort of thing. 

However I have to find who I am before I can adequately argue that I am not becoming the average person. 


Creating MindCroft was something of a whim, but I haven’t tried it long enough to pick the fruits of writing down my thoughts. It is very easy for me to write and just keep writing.

Perfecting it.

But life is not perfect.


So I will spend 15 mins maximum per day writing. I am already 8.5 mins down… but here goes:

Exhaustion is kicking in. Friends R and N say nothing at university can compare to the final term of IB, so as long as I continue to work, I should be able to get there.

The 20/80 rule is currently being tested. That means 20mins of work for each bit of work I don’t want to do. Putting 20% effort into my work (coursework  etc) and 20% effort with revision notes because at the end of the day, revising all the content is more important than decent notes. I mean I can probably understand a couple of squiggles right?

Exhaustion has peaked today because I am finding it more difficult to sleep. I think I have insomnia. Since Saturday, I have slept no more than 5 hours per night. On Sunday evening especially, I went to bed at 9pm, woke up 1.30am and just couldn’t get back to sleep. Waking up at 6.30 for school, only to return home at 6pm is far too a long day.

I have been putting off revision because “I am not in the right mind frame” or ” I want to make good notes” or “I can make posters for the real thing.”


I’d love to continue this little mind palace exploration, however my Christmassy themed alarm is calling me to stop…

..until next time.


This is not a diary.

This is an analysis of my life.

This is to uncovering who I am as a person.

And who I can become.


There are periods of time in which insomnia strikes. Generally they arise when things happen in life.

Life happens.


Am a stressed by life? I suppose so. Give me another reason why I can’t sleep.

I am thinking –

yet nothing fruitful comes from it. Just thinking. Panicking


How I do I appear to other people. What does my body language say? What do my words really mean? Am I being me? Who is me?


I feel like an illusion.

Living, not doing. Accepting, not questioning.


I used to have an identity. I was the sporty one and who got the grades. I think people were jealous. But really I was jealous of them. They could spark conversations, and know what to say and how to say it and it would be funny and life would go on with banter.

And then there is me.

The socially awkward one who just sat there listening. Occasionally speaking. The plus one.


Who accepts and doesn’t give back. What can I give back? A material object? My conversation? My physical being? What do they want? How do I know? Do I need to know? Should I even have to know? Surely giving a piece of my personality doesn’t have to please them, if that is what giving back means? I am me.

Who is me?

What do I have to give back to the world now that I have taken so many opportunities? What have I learnt?


The mystery of who I am keeps me up at night but I am yet to answer it. Maybe because I am the person I don’t want to be.


Simply living means that I can remain blissfully ignorant.


This is not a diary. This is deducing my state of mind, to understanding my identity and to claiming my identity.

I may not be Sherlock, but Mycroft seems like a pretty cool bloke. I think I relate to them both in terms of lacking emotional intelligence. #mycroftmindcroft


This is to sharing what I notice about myself and the world. And even extracting some sort of meaning from it.


To my belated new years resolution: Being me.