Blast to the Past

I have been asked out on valentines day by R.

While I’m looking forward to it, I can’t help but question our entire friendship/relationship.

Where his intention lies in our relationship, what he envisages and he reasons for spending time with me in the first place.


I feel in-superior to him.

Reason A: Achieved 45/45 IB points

Reason B: Accepted to best law firm in London

Reason C: Generally interesting, articulate and intelligent

Reason D: Has enough money to sacrifice for experiences/travel/good food


I feel like I can’t compare to him, like he lives on another planet, another entire level to my existence.

I want to know what he sees in me. Not to boost my self confidence but to find out what other people find attractive in me because I am very self aware that guys only flirt with girls to achieve certain physical pleasures.

I would rather woo with the metaphysical than physical.


Also I never know if he is exaggerating when we message. He replies constantly faster than I do, hopefully because he is a fast typer but what interests me is how he creates concepts and ways of controlling the conversation in seconds. For example, I brought up gym and exercising from which he then presents himself as a master of yoga techniques for two. Again, I told him I have been designated chef for two weeks, then he asks if I am a good cook and adds that he is a good cook, which is an attractive quality in a guy. Which then twists the conversation towards his flawless qualities. Obviously it’s not cool to say I am a phenomenal cook because that would be lying but then I can’t also bring myself down either by saying I can cook decently. In short, I have learnt R takes risks by allusions to ideas which I then reply to in a way that reveals my true character without knowing his.


On the other hand I know that not everything is planned to the detail. I am probably obsessing over everything, which is arguably acceptable because he can present himself in a positive light while I am analysing him in a blog post. Wow this is alarming.


On the way home from Pret, I tried to remember where we met, so here is a brief time line:

Feb/March 2016: Met at friend G’s party, R arrived to party with good friend N. I did not really talk to both because they were far too attractive to talk to.

March 2016: Started dating N

April/May/June: Still dating N, went on a walk with R to a park I think?? All I remember was talking about summer plans looking over W-Park Lake. I can’t remember where I met, and what we did afterwards

June/july: still dating N, went to Prom. Prom photo of N and R (with me in middle)

July: Broke up with N,

Oct: N and R go to same uni

Dec/Jan: see N at bar, awkward convo

Jan: chilled catch up with R, turned into more than catch up in P- Boathouse after some wine.   When he returned from interview we met up again, expected things to be more physical but no, which I am happy about. Slightly awkward convo because sc was very innuendo heavy

Now: Asked me out for V-day


morally conflicted …




What do I have to say?

Really. What is my purpose?

What character am I?


Character? Certainly a character.

Just an empty character in someone else’s story.


Humans; Homo sapiens decidedly ignore that we are actually insignificant.

As individuals, we were not created as the main character in society. Instead it is our responsibility to make ourselves the life we want.


While I hold a hypothetical  ideology that I am the protagonist in my life

Am I really that life changing to others?

Do I have a story? My own story?


How much would my autobiography be worth?


Actually the right question to ask is

would anyone pick up my life story in the first place?

Would they read the final words? Or find something better to do?


Three ways to create a best selling narrative:

Plan every social interaction. Make notes on conversation. Desire conventional ambitions.

Carpe diem. YOLO. Do as my present desires hope for.

Create an ideal. Do something long term. Live for others.


Yet none of these options really appeal to me despite the final method appearing to be most favourable.


What I struggle most with is conversation. I feel like I have nothing useful to say.

Damned filter.

Intrinsically I know that the only way I can get better is by talking more, opening up and sharing myself,

but the problem is- I think that I have nothing worth sharing. I lack humour, sarcasm and an inventive mindset.


Perfectionism. A tragic, tragic flaw.



This is not a story. We can write our own lives.

This means we can manipulate our own character.

Erase a so called predetermined character.


It’s strange how little I know about my friends at school although I’ve known them for a year and a half. The fact that they are good friends already conveys me as an outsider which I feel like I can’t change. What if I start talking to them now? I will not be as good friends with them as they are with eachother.

One of my biggest preconceptions is that they talk about me between eachother. It’s understandable. Because I was the first girl to meet a guy personally at a party. So really I’m this pretty face with no social skills.

While the most important thing until May is revision, I can’t help but worry what I am doing with myself. I can argue that all of my good friends are away at Uni, they are moving on with students up there while I’m left at home, trying to perfect my work and school life.


Do I even have a purpose?

Or am I waiting.


Nothing comes of nothing

W. Shakespeare

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.