When I was 21, it was a very good year...

Or was it? I thought I needed to make a little summary post about my year 2009. I could be pointing out the good and the bad but then again, I don't really like categorising things. Instead I thought I'd write down for myself what I have learned this year:

• My year started off with not-so-great news from my doctor: after feeling really faint for a long time, I decided to see my GP and get some blood tests done. The results: anemia. I spent the next 4 months on medications. I knew from the start that I could only have myself to blame for that. I had been living on mainly rice and pasta and no meat for nearly 4 months, so it's no wonder my iron levels were non-existent. Since it was a pretty scary experience for me (after all, if you nearly faint after a 10 minute moderate walk, your life is really not so much fun), I have now learned to pay more attention to what I eat. Even when in Tartu, I try to eat a meat product at least once a week, also I try to vary my menu with fruit and vegetables. I'm not a big spender when it comes to shopping but I have learned is that I am ready to spend money on food. My health is important to me, and in the end, good food makes life worth living for.
• I learned that sometimes the best holiday is the one where you get nearly no rest at all. The end of January and the beginning of February saw one of the craziest weeks in my life in the nutty country they call The Republic of Ireland. During the week I was there, I got less than 20 hours of sleep all together, only one day when I didn't consume alcohol (I think). And yet, in a blink of an eye, I'd do it all again. It was one of the best trips I have ever been on. Although, after returning, I was a zombie for a few weeks, I was rested. My mind was fresh and sharp and all of my stress had left me as soon as I got on the plane to Ireland. So, sometimes I just need to let my hair down (and I mean, really let it down!) just to rest.
• Last semester I was mainly concentrating on my studies. I spent most of the time reading my books (and there were quite a few of them to be read) and doing homework instead of going out with my friends. Although it was quite rewarding in the academic sense, I was a wreck by the start of the summer. After cutting off my hair that had been slowly but steadily been falling out on its own initiative, I decided that my last undergrad year must not be like that. I must have it all - work hard, party hard has become my new guideline that I've been trying to follow through.
• I have understood finally that there are relationships and friendships that are not worth the heartache and distress that they cause. After seeing that some people whom I've considered to be my friends (and for that matter, were my friends - emphasis on the past tense) are no longer playing an important role in the life I lead today, I realised that people come and go in our lives. They leave a mark on our lives, an note in our memories but most of them are not here to stay for the rest of our lives. Probably, this is how one knows true friends from those temporary people: the former are those who will remain besides us. Friendships should not be the constant issue of distress; if they have become one, I have decided that it is time to let go of them.
• And finally, I learned about and developed "The Institution Theory". I think that there are maximum of 2 people besides me who know what this is about, but don't dismay, I might just explain all of this in 2010 or later. Until then, stay tuned!

All in all, it was a good year in many ways. There were, of course, bad moments and times when I was not in high spirits but I think I have enough to take with me to the new decade from 2009. There were probably more things I learned, and I'm sure there still numerous lessons I have to retake but in conclusion, it was the year I learned to let go...

Happy New Year!

With a penny to my name…

Today, I suddenly realised how quickly we forget about things that used to fascinate us. I was listening to Eva Cassidy’s song Penny To My Name and it has the following lines: “If I could see the sunset skies over fields of grain or ocean tide, city skyline in the night, I’d be dancing till the dawn”

It reminded me my when I was little. I grew up in a smallish town in the middle of Estonia. I didn’t go to the bigger towns very often, especially at night time. But few times a year we went to the theatre or a concert in Tallinn, so when we came back it was dark and you could see the city lights. I was really thrilled by them. Yes, we actually had street lights also in my home town but the billboards and the flashing lights were a rare sight for me. It looked so cool and fascinating.

Now I’m living in Tartu, the second biggest town in my country. We also have all those flashing lights but until now I have not noticed them. Somehow I have got used to all of it. I didn’t even remember ever liking it until I listened to those very lines tonight. Although I admit that we are living in the times of light pollution (I mean, when was the last time it was really pitch dark?), I still like looking out of the window when it is dark and glance at the lights.

All of this made me think about how many more of such small details am I missing out? I have grown used to things that used to fascinate me and thus they seem so mundane or even annoying. I have had the chance to observe and spend some few hours with my friends little daughter and this has made me see how interesting this world is to a child. Everything is brand new and exciting. I suppose it is inevitable that we lose much of that enthusiasm along the way as we grow more and more familiar with everything. Although, somewhere in the whole process we also seem to lose the ability to take joy in small things.

And then again, I think there are many more of those who cheer over the first snow every year like seeing it for the first time. Thus, all is not lost. I will try myself to be a bit better and take notice of things, try and remember why I loved them not so long ago…

I don’t know what I want, but I want it now!

Also: I know what I want, but I don’t want it now!

I guess I am in the age when you cannot sit still and are always waiting for something to happen. Most often I feel like I can tolerate (for the absence of better word, my life is actually quite lovely, so there’s not much to actually ‘tolerate’) everything that is going on at the moment only if there is something better coming very, very soon. So I keep dreaming that cool times are just around the corner, if I could only finish this one thing (what ever that would be, right now it’s probably my BA thesis), then I would be there already. Sometimes I feel like I need some big change in my life but I cannot figure out what it is that I should change!

Although, at the moment the problem is that I know what I want but now is really not the right time for it! And I’m not talking about big girly dreams of a good husband and children, although those things would go under this category as well. It seems like fate likes to play tricks on us. It is just as Jacque liked to say: “All of this has been written up above” (D. Diderot Jacque the Fatalist and His Master).

For example, I would  love to go to a certain concert, especially as they are touring with a brand new album. When are the concerts? Right now and in Feb/March. The time I have booked for writing my BA thesis. I have promised myself to concentrate on graduating until I am actually holding my diploma. It’s my ultimate priority, and nothing can change it. This is something I want. What I don’t want is temptations on my way to achieve it. It hurts me deeply that I am missing out on the chance to see one of my favourite bands performing live, and actually meeting some of the people whom I have had the honour to get to know through the Internet. It makes me angry but I cannot figure out who it is whom I’m angry with. I’m not mad at myself because I know I am doing the right thing; I’m not mad at the band because, hell, they are a band and should do gigs whenever they feel like it; I am definitely not mad at my friends for going to shows because they need to go there, they must have the chance for that fun.

I know it is such a petty thing to be worried about but I am quite disturbed. I had promised myself that I will go and see them perform live again and again. I also promised myself not to do anything before I am holding my first, undergrad degree. And you know, the second promise is so much more important for me.

But why do I still feel like a traitor and a failure? I guess it has all been written up above…

Dancing in the moonlight?

First of all, I wanted to say that I had already completed my whole post, when I suddenly pressed the wrong button and everything went poof. I really shouldn't be allowed near computers!

Instead of dancing in the moonlight, I actually wanted to share on ugly experience I had under the artificial lights of a night club. Last Wednesday I once again understood why I hate those places so much. I'm still terrified by what I saw there...

Well, what was so horrible that I witnessed? Nothing else than a normal Wednesday night for a bunch of people: getting shitfaced, finding the clothes that don't quite cover anything and head out to a club to dance. These people seem to me from a whole different culture; they seem to think that a great night out with friends is to go to a night club, dance in a very provocative way (on more advanced levels you get to do this by the wall or on the stage), the only way you can actually talk to people is to shout into their ears. And even then, they probably only catch a half of it. Although this is definitely a way of communicating, it is not the most convenient one. Not to mention that all the songs played in the night club sound the same to me (but there's no wonder; in my world the sentence 'I put some new music on my mp3-player' means that I added Black Sabbath's Greatest Hits album there...).

I know I sound like some old granny: today's youth is so corrupted. I admit, I have had fun time at night clubs. The last 2 times I went to M were quite a blast. Then again, considerable amount of alcohol was involved (I even reached the very advanced level: the bar). Nevertheless, I like my friends so much that I actually want to talk to them when we go out, not to express my feelings and thoughts through the medium of dance.
Moreover, the reason why I hate night clubs is very personal: every time I come home from one of them, my self-esteem plummets. In midst of all those scarcely dressed women I suddenly understand how unsexy and unattractive I am. Even more so, every last one of my dance moves seems extremely ridiculous. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want to impress any of those people who go to night clubs, but still, as a single 20-year-old, I'd like to feel pretty as well!

I still get twitches when I think back about the night at CT. I cannot even put it into words how badly I dislike those places. Let's just say that they are not for me. I'd rather have a beer with my dear friends at the pub or a glass of wine with some discussions about heaven and earth.
So you won't see me back at a club at least till April... Sorry, friends!

Losing my religion

Religion has always been one of the most personal issues of mine. I come from a non-religious background: my parents never go to church, nor have they been to conformation. I have probably attended roundabout 10 services in my life.
Yet, I don't consider myself as an atheist. It's a nasty word anyway, and hypocritical one as well: you so strongly deny the existence of any god, that it becomes a belief in itself.

I accidentally happened to go to a Baptist prayer house on Saturday to a sort of meeting. My sister told me that her friend is singing with her siblings and asked L. to come and listen. In a chain reaction, my sister grabbed me to come with her. It was a very new experience for me. I have never been to a Free Church meeting, and not surprisingly it was very different from anything I have witnessed so far. We were complete strangers there, sister and I, but after the meeting (I'm not actually sure what is the correct term to be used, so I am sticking to this one) everyone came and shake hands with us, saying "God bless you". Although, when we were asked which congregation we belong to, I felt strangely embarrassed.

I think that religion is a very complicated issue in Estonia. My parents' generation was raised in 'scientific atheism'. During the Soviet times, going to church was punishable. All religions were persecuted by the state. And yet, I hear stories how the churches were packed with people on Christmas Eve. Not many actually dared to have their children christened, it is the same with my parents. 50 years is a long time, and it is long enough to kill the religious thinking of a nation.

So today, our congregations are small and the Sunday services are usually read to only a handful of people. When asked about religion, I'm sure that there are many more like me who struggle to give an answer. My Scottish lecturer, bless him, keeps telling us whenever we speak about religion, "You're all Lutherans, remember?" And after being to that Baptist meeting, I must confess: yes, I am a Lutheran! I think it is about my upbringing and the values. It is after all a Christian, or even more specifically, protestant cultural space that I am living in, so it is a part of my essence. Probably this is why I enjoy the sermons of the Lutheran minister in Türi more than I did those on Saturday.

I have been fascinated by churches and religions for quite a while now. I took religion study class already in secondary school and I was so lucky to have such an amazing teacher. I have even spent half a week in Taizé monastery in France and I absolutely loved it there. Whenever I travel, I always end up going into churches: I remember years ago when my and my mum were walking around Vilnius and ended up visiting probably every church that was opened in the old town. And about a year ago, when I was in Ireland, I did the same: saw a church, took some pictures, tried if the door was opened, if so, then I quietly slipped in for a few minutes and enjoyed the silence. (Not to mention, that during the same trip, a rather drunken Irishman who had had a good Catholic upbringing made me do a cross when we went pass the church, haha).
I think my ultimate visit to the church must have been in Jerusalem when I visited the tomb of Christ. I remember an elderly lady, who I thought was trying to get pass me, suddenly grabbing me hand and leading me into the tomb. It was such an unexplainable moment for me.
I also felt the same thing when I was touching the Western Wall a few hours later. Thus, I am equally fascinated by different religions.

There is some mysticism about being a member of the church. My sister called this a hobby, which I was very much offended by. I mean, in a very loose sense of the word, she is probably right. It is a hobby, a social circle and even a life style. And yet, I don't any of these words is suitable to characterise the religious choices one makes.
I never know what to answer, if being asked about my religion. I don't even know whether I should say that I am religious. I'd like to think I am, probably belonging to the group of people characterised by 'believing without belonging'. I know I want to read the Bible one day, but this is more for professional purposes. I have thought about going to congregation but I'm not sure what my family would think of it. For the time being, I think I'll just keep visiting churches and go to traditional services on Christmas Eve. Who knows, maybe one day I will attend them on a more regular basis...

(The question I should be asking myself is: do I believe God? And the answer... well, why not! I might as well believe in the idea of a god.)

Time never waits. That's okay coz I don't wait for time

In Ian McEwan's The Child In Time time is not linear; on the contrary, time changes. Time can flow like water, constantly and steadily. Sometimes the flow is slower, like vodka that has just been taken from the freezer and slowly stretches into the glass. Now and again, time freezes and everything seems to stand still; you are stuck in a moment. And then, suddenly, time may also disappear into the air like vapour. It almost seems that time has three (or possibly more) states of matter. But time is not a matter nor a substance. We cannot touch it, while we might feel it slipping through our fingers. What is time?

It is quite funny how some things seem so long and others like few days ago. When I look back to the days I lived in Viljandi, it feels like ancient history. Yet, it seems to me that I began the life of a student in Tartu only a while ago. In the linearity of time, those things should follow one another but in my mind, there is some gap in between. It is funny and I think McEwan's book describes it just wonderfully. There's somekind of magic in that book, impossible to put into words, but you feel overwhelmed by it as soon as you've reached to the end. The main character Stephen experiences the fluidity of time when he sees a scene from the past: his mother and father as a young couple. Moreover, since his daughter, Kate, is kidnapped, the time concerned with her seems to stand still. When in a car crash, every seconds seems to last forever for Stephen and he is fascinated by that. He learns about time through his friends wife, a quantum physicist, and thus the reader feels educated by those philosophical conversations as well. The whole narrative of the books seems to have different speeds, just like time has for Stephen.

I feel that in some relationships, time can do magical things. I have a wonderful friend who unfortunately lives in another town. At times, she has even lived in another country. And for a long time as well. Yet I still feel, when we meet, that our time has stood still while we were apart. We can continue from where we left off without having to make up the 'lost time'. No time is lost actually, it is all there somewhere but we just don't need it. We can skip units of time and be in the same spacetime. How wonderful is that!

I'm sure we have all felt that time goes by really fast when we are having fun but seems to be oh so slow in a boring lecture or when taking a bus home. I think in this case, we can say that time exists in our head. It is our perception of it that makes the clock go faster or slower. When you have a lot to do, the week seems be over in a blink of an eye. The more fully we employ our time, the faster it goes. It feels as if a tight schedule gives energy to time to push onwards with greater speed. Is it good or bad? I think neither... When we stop to smell the roses, the time slows down as well.

Yes, the clock keeps on ticking but, more and more, I come to believe that I actually do have all the time in the world. I just need to figure out how to reach it. Until then I am going to enjoy the little spectacle that it offers me.

Time must be the magic in McEwan's book.
McEwan, Ian. 1988. The Child In Time. London: Pan Books Ltd

Friends will be friends?

Lately I have been thinking about politeness and about the way we are expected to act in the society. We, as humans, make our lives awfully difficult, don't we, with all the rules of conduct. And are they actually rules and if they are, are they still legitimate in the 21st century?

I would like to concentrate on the rules that set who we have to be friendly with. My mother is organising my father's birthday party. Nothing grand, because all he wanted was a small group of friends and family with whom he could feel comfortable. So, my dear mother, who is kind of slave to politeness, calls me and asks if she has to ask this and that person to come. As an arrogant little prat, I of course replied that she doesn't have to ask anyone she and my dad don't want to. The idea is to spend the part with people you want to be there. Luckily I got through to my mother and for once, she abandoned her strict sense of politeness.
Yesterday she calls me and was little anxious because one of those people she didn't ask (because a) she would not come anyway, and b) she's a bit annoying and generally not the most popular figure in the family), had called and asked if my father has some kind of important birthday. My mother did not give up and didn't pass the invitation; yet, she was still looking for my confirmation that what she did was right.

Did she do the right thing? Yes. If being overly polite spoils your fun, then it is not a good thing. I'm not saying all politeness is bad and restricting. No, I love when people are nice without a reason. 'Thank you', 'Here you are', 'Have a nice day' etc comprise the elementary politeness that brightens up anyone's day (and I'm relieved to know that those phrases are making their comeback into Estonian service culture). These little acts of kindness and politeness do not take away anything from anyone and make this world once again a little bit of better place.

Where to draw the line? I think that as long as you feel good about being polite and do not sacrifice anything, all is well.
I also think that we should not pretend to be friends and hang out with people how we don't like, who make us feel uneasy. Easier said than done.
My mother's example was one of those hard situations because it is to do with family and relatives and last time I checked you can't choose them. But then again, it was to do with a certain event and the option was there and I still think me and mum have done everything correctly. Another difficult situation is when you have a larger group of friends and you feel like one or few people there are those, who you do not want to be close with. 'Ay, there's the rub'
Do you put on a brave face and be 'polite' (i.e. befriend and hang out with him/her) because you have to for the sake of the group, or do you turn the cold shoulder and move on? I don't know.

The two guys on either of my shoulders (not sure which of them is the devil and which is the angel) seem to disagree. One says, 'You have to think about your own happiness and if you don't feel good with the person, so be it. Life is hard and you meet so many people anyway, you don't need those in your life who make you feel uncomfortable. It doesn't help for either of you!' The other fellow on the other shoulder says, 'Oh, but you've already known this person for years and you have been friends so far. It would be weird to back off now. Besides, you might lose the other people in the same group as well!'

There! This is where excessive politeness has brought us. You have to be friends with some people because... well, you just have to. Otherwise you'd be the cold-blooded superficial bitch. Yet, my voice of reason says that I'm not. So, until I find the golden mean, I'll force a smile and try to concentrate on people who I like being with.
(And maybe in her ultimate kindless, the Universe will sort this little problem out herself)

The Secret is out

On Monday, a friend of mine told me about a book she had recently read and brought it to me during our lunch on Wednesday. It was Rhonda Byrne's The Secret. To my mind, it is a mixture between a self-aid book and a kind of 'philosophical' contemplation. Wikipedia names it to be a '2006 best-selling a New Age self-help and spirituality book' which I think is a good enough classification.

The book itself teaches its readers about The Secret of how to lead one's life. The main focus is on the Law of Attraction. It says that what ever you want, the Universe will provide you with it, all you have to do is think about it and visualise it. It makes no difference what it is: money, love, health etc.

Although I tend to be a bit critical about all self-aid materials, I still liked the book. Some of the thoughts expressed there are actually worth considering. According to The Secret, you attract what you think about. Thus, if you think about the bad things in your life, you attract more bad things; the worrying will only attract more worrying. If you think about positive things, good stuff will happen to you.
And I must say I agree. There have been times in my life when I think I'm absolutely drowning in deep sh*t: I have had so much to do, and so little time and other resources to actually do everything. And for the few last years I've learned that when I'm in this kind of black hole, the best thing is to let go. I just say to myself, 'F*ck it all, I'll stop worrying, everything will fall into its rightful place in the end anyway!'. And you know, everything does go as it is supposed to go as soon as I stop worrying and let the Universe (or fate or whatever) take over. Whether it is my university work, my dancing things or family business, after a while I discover that everything is running smoothly again.
I believe that it is a knowledge that very many people could benefit from. We as human beings spend way too much time and energy worrying about everything instead of concentrating on the end result. The Secret tells us to visualise what we want and then let the Universe provide the how and when and other details. We just need to believe that it is as good as done.
In a very pragmatic way you can say it works because when you stop worrying, you can see things much clearly and see the opportunities that you didn't know existed before. Moreover, you put more energy into actually achieving your goal, than worrying about 'what ifs'.

The book also reminds us the long forgotten lessons in positive view to life and gratitude. Sometimes we concentrate too much on what is wrong in our life that we fail to notice the wonderful things: our families, friends, careers, the weather etc. When I look at my life from that perspective, I can actually see that there's really nothing missing in my life. I have very supporting family, I have friends that never seize to surprise me, I have excellent results in school and university, I don't have to count every penny, I can afford yhe things I want (because after all, I want simple things: nice things to wear, good food, trainings and entertainment; things I cannot afford are usually the things I'm actually not that interested in anyway). I could go on for a while about the things that are great in my life.

There were some things in the book, of course, that I was not so keen on. For example, there is a whole chapter dedicated to the Secret of money: how to attract money. I do understand that we live in a capitalist (or maybe, when this crisis is over, although I seriously doubt that, in a post-capitalist) world, does everything have to revolve around money? But I guess the book attracts a more wider readership if you teach people how to get rich...

In the end I just want to say is that it is a good book to remind us that we should really stop worrying about every little thing and concentrate on the things that make us happy because if you believe The Secret, happiness attracts more happiness. Everything else will fall into its place sooner or later anyway.
And as for me, I will try and follow the same path. I will try to banish the unhealthy sarcastic thoughts and fears that hold me back and walk towards a happier life.
It is a wonderful world after all...

(I read the book in Estonian. Published in 2008 by Pilgrim)

You read me like an open book?

I thought with the new/last year in the university, it would be a great time to start writing my blog once again. Well, we can all (i.e. me; I don't think there are a lot of people who read this blog) see how long I will be able to keep that up. Anyway... Happy New Year!

One of my favourite books that I have lately read is Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient. I read it years ago in Estonian but for my Canadian Identity course I had to read it once again in English. I fell in love with it more and more as I was writing my essay about it. The book is actually full of underlined paragraphs and comments and tags. I concentrated on the role of the Patient in the life of the inhabitants of Villa San Girolamo. For some odd reason I have been thinking about that book and that essay lately.

I believe that although the burnt man in the book was a patient, his role was to be a healer. The most obvious example must be the relationship between the Patient and his nurse Hana. She is dedicated herself to taking care of the burnt body but it is actually herself that needs healing the most. The war has left her with wounds in her mind and soul and as a nurse she has forgot to take care of those because she was too busy helping injured soldiers.
Hana's father was also badly burnt in the war and died alone. She writes to her stepmother:
" He was a burned man and I was a nurse and I could have nursed him. /…/ I could have saved him" (p. 314).
Patient is Hana's salvation and also he guides the twenty-something girl back to peace, just like a rehab from the horrors of war. He makes her read books to him and tells her stories; this is a kind of therapy for both of them. And Hana lets this happen:
“Okay, tell me, she thought, take me somewhere” (p. 60)
And this helped Hana to turn a new page in her life and go back to Canada, to her stepmother. The roles of the healer and the patient were turned around.

Why am I writing about that book? Well, of course one of the reasons is that I really love that book. But I love many other books as well. To be honest, I love literature as a whole...
Lately I have noticed that I like to listen to my friends problems. (Not that I want them to have problems; I would be so happy if they didn't have any problems!) But I feel very flattered that they choose to turn to me, although I have never been very good at giving advice. But sometimes just a few kind words do the magic...
I truly hope I'm not one of those people who Paolo Coelho describes in his Zahir: (not a proper quote from the book; my rough translation from Estonian into English )
"I discovered something not too long ago: our true friends stand beside us when we succeed in something. They support us, rejoice at our victories. The fake friends are those who appear only when we have hard times, wearing a sad face because of 'solidarity', whereas our sufferings actually offer them a consolation in their own sad life."

However, taking Ondaatje's masterpiece into account, maybe it just means that I need 'healing' myself? My last post post here was about me not being able to open up to my friends. Nothing has miraculously changed. I still cannot speak about my problems to anyone close to me.
Sometimes I just feel that I have no justification to bother people with my petty problems. Why would I want to ruin anyone's mood just because I'm wrestling with my own thoughts and feelings.
It is easier for me to deal with someone else's problems because maybe I'm too much afraid to address my own. But maybe someday, just like the Patient, my dearest friends will see my position and will be my healers. And I'm very much sure that they will...

(The Ondaatje quotes are from the 2004 version of The English Patient published by Bloomsbury Publishing; cannot remember the publisher and the page for the Coelho's quote)

The whole 20% of me.

For some odd reason, people who should know me the best, who have seen me throughout all my life, have failed to understand me. But maybe it is not entirely their fault...

I am an open person, at least that might seem so. And I am. To a point... When it comes to me, some things are not at all personal for me and I can discuss very odd things with perfect strangers. But when it comes to my inner feelings, my hopes and dreams, I have learned not to reveal them to anyone. Not even to my closest friends. I am very sorry about that because I know some of them open their soul to me, and I am just unable to reply with the same.

Surely, it's an issue of trust. It is not that I do not trust them to keep secrets, no not at all. I am very sure they/you are absolutely trustworthy and I'd trust you with my life... But not with my secrets.

This weekend proved to me that my problems of trust most likely are rooted in my family. I have taken great pride in my family, and being family orientated. Only to learn that it goes unnoticed and that I am the one to be blamed of all the seven deadly sins... And then a smile and life goes on. Pardon?

"A couple drinks. A couple aspirin. Repeat." Chuck Palahniuk. Diary. 2003.

And the funny thing is that I still keep trying. Even more funny... I am always the one who gets hurt and ends up in crying to her pillow. Why, you ask. I have no fucking idea... I wish I could stop but the closest thing I get to giving up this habit is just escaping.

Anyway, getting back on the trust issue... as you may or may not have understood, then me and my family are most probably from different galaxies. Therefore, I have never been able to go to my family with my problems, wishes... etc for the simple reason of making a fool out of myself. Honestly, they would have just laughed and gone on about some non-sense and solving real problems such as the colour of the new wallpaper.

Having learned from the experience of not being able to trust the people closest to me, my own flesh and blood with my inner world, why on Earth should I even consider the idea that the rest of the 6 billion people in the world are interested in it?

Before you ask, yes, I am completely aware of the fact that my experience in this world is only limited with 20 years, but that's already two decades... I have learned something during the period.

So, my dear friends, I hope you will forgive me for the fact that you will most likely never know how I really feel about things, what are my true feelings... I just cannot open up. Admitting being in love, regretting things, my dreams that keep me going... These are mine alone, and as much as I would like to share them with you, I can't.

So I offer you the whole 20% of me, if you'll accept it. And the rest is mine to keep.