Last Saturday was my birthday, marking 29 years of my life. I’ve never really cared/celebrate my birthday and although I welcomed and was happy of all the birthday wishes, the Skype calls, the messages, the voice messages…I still felt that loneliness creeping inside me.

They say, we are born alone, live alone and die alone or something along those lines. And as much as one could argue it’s not ‘technically’  true; we are definitely not born alone by surrounded by doctor and nurses and definitely a mother. We do interact and socialise throughout our lives; it may not be meaningful. It may not be anything special, but we are not truly alone. And as for dying, nobody really can predict that; you can be surrounded by people or alone in bed. Death is not something you can really predict.

Still, the problem is not when or how you are born, how you live or die. It’s the loneliness.

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Oranges Are Nature’s Medicine

I hate oranges. I hate their smell, their taste. I avoid touching them as much as I can, because they makes me nauseous. I don’t know why but they remind me of medicine- some traumatic childhood experience?

But anyway, I was chatting with a new teacher at school that none of my colleagues knows why she is there since we haven’t been told anything except, “this is a new teacher and she will be joining us.” and as we talked about our experiences, me telling her about how I moved from London, changed careers, etc, she very nicely offered me an orange. I nodded, and took it automatically, then lowered my eyes to those three orange wedges covered with white webs.

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The Grass is Always Greener on the Other Side

I was scrolling down my FB feed the other day and realised, I haven’t been posting for quite some time and that FB has basically become a way for me to connect to just a group of people, while keeping track of what the other group was up to. Had they moved? Married? Given birth? Found new jobs, new boyfriends/husbands/wives/girlfriends.

This habit of comparing your life to the life of others offered on social media had made us not live our own life. Not value what we have, what we have accomplished and who we are. Whenever we start comparing our lives to others, we are already losing. We don’t compare the good things about us, but the worst. And the worst always looks bad compared to what “appears” to be the perfect live of others.

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Material Girl

I’ve given myself a deadline to whether I’m moving back to my hometown or…Well, I haven’t quite decided on a plan B yet. But as April draws closer, I look around my little studio apartment that has been my home for two years and think…I’m not leaving anything behind. Each object, has a story that I know I’d want to remember when I need to focus on the good things.

Good memories.

I’ve experienced it, and accepted it, when I moved to Italy after finishing my studies in London. I took whatever I could with me, because they had lived with me and experienced my ups and downs. I came to Italy with 5 big bags carrying everything I needed to feel at home. To create my safe haven.

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Living In A Small Town In Italy

Living in a small town in Italy is just what you might be imagining; the little pedestrian city centre surrounded by two story houses with red roofs. The Saturday morning market that fills the main street. The silent Sundays giving space to bells of nearby churches. The lovely scenery and the mountains peaking at the the horizon.

But for someone born and bred in a city, there are also the poor public transportation with a schedule not being followed. The long distance between one place to the other for those without a driving license. The million pharmacies and the million restaurants with the same type of cuisine. The silence of most nights and of all Sundays.

And knowing almost everyone you meet in the streets.

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Nationality Is Not An Excuse

My colleague gave me a ride back home today, after a teacher’s training session that finished at 7pm, and I told her how I was followed by a guy Saturday morning after I went grocery shopping. It was one of those female bonding moments where she gasped and looked worried and told me if I was alright….until she ruined it.

Basically, Saturday morning I woke up and went to buy a few things. As I was walking back home, a guy started commenting on how the plastic bags, aren’t really that resistant. Unlike condoms. I comment politely saying that if they weren’t that would be a problem. Then, he asked if I lived nearby and I said no, wished him a good day and walked a few more blocks to make sure I wasn’t followed before I headed back home.

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The Art of Supermarket Shelf Stacking

enhanced-buzz-22774-1423688643-4Of the many things me and my dad share- not being able to let go what we cannot control, overthinking- supermarket shelves stacking is something we have both perfected over the years.

We ignore my mom rolling her eyes and pretending she doesn’t know us as we put that Mentos, where it’s supposed to be and that crackers back with its brothers and sisters. We cannot simply ‘leave it there’, because ‘there’ is not its place. And what annoys me is why someone has decided to leave that chocolate near enough to its right place and not where its supposed to be. So someone has to do it.

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Going Back Home

Recently I’ve been thinking of going back to my hometown. The day I left, I promised never to go back again, no matter what happened. I hate that place. Well…I did hate it while growing up. I always felt under the spotlight and who I was, was never good enough. I was always too much or too less. Too quiet. Too weird. Too skinny. Too socially awkward. Too much of a loner.

So when I finally moved out, I thought I’ll finally be somewhere where nobody knows me and be who I really am. Too bad at that point I had no idea who I was. I’m still trying to figure myself out after years of being ‘who I was supposed to be’. New countries, new cities help a little but when things are about you, it’s you who need to figure things out. Not new cities.

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Teachers and Tattoos

Living in a society that doesn’t let you be who you are or judges you for what you do or like is something every single person on planet Earth has to deal with. Some more often than others.

Considering we cannot live without societies because humans are per se loners in nature- we need to be part of something, even people that like me like to spent time alone, we need to adapt to what is considered to be ‘normal’ or ‘acceptable.’

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