Well, that backfired...

I bet you didn't expect that to happen.

I let you call the shots for two weeks and you hurt and humiliate the first decent guy that comes your way, to the point of him giving up on you. Great job.

So tell me: exactly how did you expect this to turn out? What gave you the idea that being such a cold witch would actually be attractive?

And what on Earth made you think you wouldn't care?

"I'm going through this phase where I need to be totally detached from everyone and anyone." Did you even believe that? For one second? You're a child. You know nothing about yourself, who you are and what you want.

I can't even talk to you right now. I'm so mad.

The whole point in this detachment was to find stability. This was thrown out the window when you texted him back. This was you entering a toxic relationship.

Run away! Now!

Maybe he is smart enough to run, and then all is saved...

Let's hope...

Listen: Never again! You hear me? Never again.

Take care!

Even rock stars have feelings

Listen, I don't have much time to sit here and talk to you. Finals are coming up, and I have to study.

...

...


Will you stop laughing like a hyena for just a minute? Please? I just wanted to check in - to talk to you... This last week has been really interesting... I went outside my comfort zone so m-

Oh for the love of Odin!
What is wrong with you?


What?  You were afraid I'd forgotten about you? I would never, in a million years, just lose touch with you, just like that. If it ever comes down to that. we'll have a nice long chat... I'll have a cup of tea, you'll have a beer... two... three? Four beers? As it stands now, you cannot handle four beers; we both know that. You'd pass out. Or die...

Oh...
Hey, let's not think about that now, OK? Please stop crying. It's not even something I'm considering, right now.

For now, I'm just trying to figure out ways to reconcile your dreams and aspirations with the ones that I've assimilated over the years.
I can assure you, both having enough brain cells at the end of the day to think outside the box for a few hours and having a good career that will provide enough money to get you through old age are perfectly sensible aspirations. But I have to figure out a way to do both. And that's not easy in this day and age. Something's got to give...

And this damned Social Sciences degree is not the best first step towards the job of our dreams.

Yeah. Saving the World does sound nice. But there's so much wrong with the World, where would we start? And also, will you be the leader? Because I'm clearly a follower, if I can't be a lone wolf.

You really think I could lead anyone?
Oh, you could lead people... That makes sense... Well, let me know if you get any good ideas; we'll start from there.

In the meantime, tell me about that tattoo you were thinking about.

"My fear is a lie"... Sounds really appropriate, to me. I may actually be OK with getting that tattoo...

Really.

Isn't that a song lyric?

Oh I thought it sounded familiar.
I'm not really sure where it would be best to get it. If we do this, it has to be discreet; I have to keep my career options open. But, at the same time, we'll have to be able to see it anytime we want. It's our tattoo, at the end of the day. We're getting it to inspire ourselves, right?

I wonder what people would think about this tattoo... If only there was a way for others to let us know what's on their mind...

Oh you're right! We do have a comment section!

Neah... I'm sure nobody cares enough to tell us what they think...
Or do they?

I suppose we'll just have to wait and see. I really have to go.
Talk to you next week, okay?

Take care!

Hello, again! (My alter ego wants to be a rock star)

Hi, my dear!
I've missed you.


While I was busy growing up; through all the moments that lead to the realization that however many people I have smiling at me, supporting me, laughing at my jokes, or patting me on the back, the most important person in my life is you, I pushed you to the back of my mind.


You became a distant memory - echoes of a dream a young girl once had. And I did nothing about that, because I was too busy listening to all the people who want what's best for me.


I'm sorry.


I'm sorry I suppressed all that I was supposed to be, in order to become a muddled mess of other people's dreams. I am now fragments of other people's ideals: I am kind, I am analytical, I am well-enough read - not too much, so as not to interfere with my capacity to be somewhat sociable; but not extremely sociable, because too much confidence would have made me prone to disobedience. But I'm not too obedient either, am I? I was never meant to be obedient. And this is where Nature fights nurture to create this monster inside me: hungry for the road, hungry for adventure. But so little experience of those things, for my age...


You came back with a vengeance.


You are now claiming what is yours: this body, this mind and soul (for whatever that may be), and you will not give in, no matter how hard I try to explain to you that rebelling against all that you were smothered with, all these years, will not work. And it's not your fault, it's mine. For not letting you fight for what you wanted from the get go. Now we have nothing to base your future on.


Yes, you're right. We could've had that Harley, by now, instead of a white Peugeot and a bike that's old and purple and I can't even ride. But I haven't worked towards a Harley until now. I have worked towards two degrees that we didn't even want in the first place.


Yes! I know you would have gotten a job at 16 and we could have had it all by now. I was wrong. I'm sorry. How many times do I have to apologise?
Until you're free?
oh my...




But I... I don't know how to be you. I'm still so weak...
What if I never gain the strength to follow my instinct at every crossroad?
What if I never gain the drive to work towards a goal for more than a week? Yes I know those weren't my goals, but still. What if it doesn't matter whose goals they are?


And what would we do? We can't sing, so a career in the rockstar awesomeness field is pretty much out of the question. Anything involving any degree of hand-eye coordination, like painting, is out of the picture; You know it's true - we can't even draw a good enough tattoo design.


Writing?


Are you actually reading this? This is precisely the reason why writing wouldn't work.




I don't know. I'll get back to you...


In the meantime, try to come to terms with the fact that you may have to go back into your little dark room. I hope we'll find another way, but this may be our only way forward from this place I've allowed our life to take us. I'm sorry.


Take care.