The Song

Do you ever listen to a song that reminds you of someone

– Maybe a song they loved –

To feel close to them?

To get a glimpse of a memory, a moment you were happily together?

Do you ever listen to a song that reminds you of someone

– Maybe a song you enjoyed listening to together –

And break down in tears?

Because you know that the music they loved is the only thing you have left of them?

Do you ever listen to a song that reminds you of someone

– Maybe your song –

And feel your heart being ripped out of your chest?

Because every time you listen to it, you realise you’re one step closer to losing them forever?

Random Thoughts LXXXVI

I think one of the worst things that can be done to someone is not being believed. 

And even worse, not being believed by loved ones.

Random Thoughts LXXXV - Art in late-stage capitalism

The art we consume nowadays is often produced by people who are not artists or creative themselves: people who didn't study art; people who didn't spend any time honing their skills or developing their craft... because they have none; people who don't care to educate themselves to develop their own aesthetic. They are people who have the money and/or the connections, but not necessarily artists. 

As a result, we're constantly fed art that was created with the purpose of maximizing profit. An artist craves to create. It is part of who they are. It is their life. It's not about making money. It's not about selling. Of course, they have to make a living, and they should be paid for their time, skill and materials. I understand. But, the initial reasoning behind becoming an artist is that you are an artist. That's the only way you can be. You have that innate need to express yourself via your creations. Sometimes, it's a compulsion even.

Since those who control the majority of the art we are exposed to are not innovative or creative, the art becomes part of fast food culture. No substance: quantity over quality. We must consume non stop. No time to reflect on the art, no time to analyse. No reason to: there is nothing to see beyond surface level. They don't care to challenge us. Their only concern is profit, and thus, they follow a safe formula to achieve it.

That approach skews our perception of what art and creativity can be. We didn't get the chance to develop our own personal aesthetic. Hence, we adopt whatever aesthetic we have been continuously exposed to as our own. We have been brainwashed to admire and accept bad quality art. It's all we know. Familiarity creates comfort. We end up asking for more of that which feels familiar. We are trapped in a sad cycle of being fed what we ask for, but then, we ask for what we have been already fed. And that applies to all forms of art, from literature to music, from film to painting etc...

The responsibility to break the cycle lies within ourselves, as we can't depend on those whose main motive is profit. The world we live in is a chaotic place; there is too much of everything. It can be difficult to navigate through the constant exposure to bad 'art.' It takes time, strong will and perseverance. Thankfully, the result is very well worth it. 

Goodbye, my friend

One of the most painful things for me as an autistic individual who feels everything extremely deeply and who suffers from Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria is good friends drifting away. I'm talking about people I have shared very important moments of my life with, people whom I trusted and they trusted me, people I have supported and they have supported me, people with whom I had an important bond.

One day, some of these people started moving on/away from our friendship. They never said why, and I don't recall ever hurting them or wronging them in any way. I often even asked common friends their opinion and they also couldn't understand why that was. Mind you, I have friendships that have lasted for up to 28 years, and they're still going strong. So, I'm fully capable of maintaining long-term platonic relationships. 

But, it seems that for some reason, certain people can't. I do take it personally and it is hurtful, even though, I'm aware that not everyone can maintain long-term friendships, and it's not exclusive to me. Sometimes their own trauma and mental health struggles may be the reason we drift apart. However, mourning a friendship, or when a friendship turns into an acquaintanceship, is wounding, lengthy and sometimes, something I may not recover from. 

.        Picture taken by me, Hastings, England.

Random Thoughts LXXXIV

Picture taken by me: London, December 2021.

Just another day of hopelessness, despair and anxiety.

I keep noticing and realising by observing my surroundings, people in real life, and people on the internet: a very large number of the population lacks logic and reason, the ability to think critically, and the will to learn before forming opinions, sharing them and insisting on them.

And the more I see this, and the more I see behaviours that confirm this, the less hope I have for the future of humanity, but also for my own future.

14 years.

Central London.

07-01-2010.

I moved to London on the 7th of January, 2010. I was 21 years old. The prospect of living in UK appeared exciting (I was watching too much Skins at the time), but I was also scared shitless, as I had no one in UK and feared the unknown. I was confused about who I was, what my future would be like, what my life in UK would be like... 

Today, on the 14th-year anniversary of the move, I reminisce my first day in London. How different everything felt compared to Athens; how different I felt, but also how accepted and embraced... Despite people being friendly and complimenting my style, my first day in London was stressful and terrifying. Having to talk to other students as an introvert, let alone in a foreign language, having to figure everything out in uni halls without any prior experience or knowledge on how things worked... It was a lot to deal with. 

My first couple of months in London I cried myself to sleep almost every night. I was lost; I was lonely and missing my loved ones; I didn't understand uni student dynamics and politics; and I didn't know that I was experiencing dysphoria due to the big change and the new environment, as I'm autistic.

In the years that came, I made some amazing meaningful connections; I found many elements from British culture I could relate to and appreciate; I formed long-lasting friendships; I learned a lot about who I was and who I am, and I started the process of unmasking. UK has been like a mother to me, and London became a place I call home. I'm still trying to figure life out; I'm still scared, a little less confused and a lot more familiar with the city and how things work. 

Here's to the next 14 years, hoping I will be less scared, even less confused, and maybe a little happier, more stable and settled here.

L

2024. New year, same me: My thoughts on 'change.'

2024. 

I've seen a lot of posts writing "New year, new me" circulating social media. I've been thinking about people's need to change, or their need to announce their intention to change. If you feel there is a reason for you to change, it makes sense to try to motivate yourself to achieve the change. Maybe you're  reconsidering your approach to life; maybe you want to work on how you react to things; maybe you want to be a better person (whatever that may mean to you, e.g. becoming kinder/more self-aware/straightforward etc.). Whatever the reason might be, if you feel a change within is the solution to living a better, more fulfilling life, go for it. 

In my case, I'd say, it's "New year, same me," as I don't want to change who I am. I have worked – and I am still working – very hard on finding my true self and living authentically to her. Am I perfect? No. Have I reached self-actualization? Absolutely not. There's a lot more room for improvement and I got a very long way till I reach my 'full potential' as a human and a person. However, I don't want to become a new person. I am very happy with my core, my values, my ideologies, and the way I see the world. Does that make me suffer more than most, due to being 'very sensitive' or 'paying too much time and attention' to people's bad actions (whether targeting me or others)? Yes, 100%. But, the alternative doesn't interest me: apathy is a disease to me, and maliciousness is even worse. I don't want to 'change,' because I live my life respecting others, considering their needs, being empathetic and understanding to their circumstances (when applicable) and trying to do good, overall.

Do I think the world we live in must change, instead, as it is a cruel and toxic place to be? Yes, indeed. Solidarity, respect, empathy, education on social issues, human rights – to name a few – should be taken for granted, instead of many of us having to fight for them on a daily basis. Right? I guess, to me, that's right. Except, what I came to realise is that to some, that's not right. It's a matter of ethics and morals, which despite certain standards set and defined by laws and unwritten social rules, can be highly subjective. Therefore, there's not much I can do about others' ethics and morals, especially when the law or their environment allows them to hurt others without consequences. I can try to talk to them and/or disrupt their bad actions (when possible), but I can't be the one to punish them, or force them to change their ways. Change has to come from within or be enforced by the relevant systems, after all.

I'm going to leave you now, paraphrasing Arleen Lorrance's quote on change, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

A year later...

Today marks one year since my second surgery. A surgery I had to have for medical reasons. A surgery that changed my body forever, and deformed my favourite body part.

I have not been able to return to how I loved and embraced my body before the surgery, but I am trying. Loving oneself is hard enough, without external factors intervening. 

On this day, I'm self reflecting on my journey to recovery, the realisation that the body can take years — if ever — to fully heal from physical trauma, how physical and psychological trauma are intertwined, and how one can navigate relearning to love themselves, after they're not 'themselves' anymore. 

I don't have any answers to give you, or myself, at the moment. Recovering and healing can be difficult. Complications can be scary and horrendous. The unknown is terrifying. No one can give you an absolute guarantee things will go as planned, or that you will be okay. 

The hospitalisation for and recovering from the two surgeries I had (for the same medical reason), were the worst experiences I've ever had to go through — and I've been through some terrible shit. I will always have a scar reminding me of the nightmare, but I can only wish that my body will fully heal in the foreseeable future, so I can — at least partially — move on to a happier and healthier place.

Lara

---

My poem 'de-FORmed:'

Goodbye;

Farewell.

I know I’ll never see you again.

You changed forever: your shape, your form.

All that remains is I, deformed

https://mysticismlover.wordpress.com/2022/10/17/de-formed/

---

PS. I kindly ask that you do not comment/message regarding my surgeries or my health.

PS2. Please, also refrain from dismissing my trauma or diminishing my experience. "You look fine" comments aren't welcome.

PS3. From the bottom of my heart, 'Thank you' to those who have supported me throughout this journey, either practically, or emotionally. I don't know that I would have been able to persevere without you. I am forever grateful. 

Random Thoughts LXXXIII

Depression is 

forcing yourself to take a shower; yet, lacking the energy to lift the shower head to wash yourself. You stare at it crying, the overwhelming existential fatigue making even the smallest movement feel akin to climbing a mountain.

Anxiety is 

a relentless assault on your mind, dissecting and scrutinizing every perceived ‘flaw’ and imperfection within yourself and your life. You can’t stop falling down the rabbit hole of negative thoughts. Your body becomes a vessel of suffering.

Random Thoughts LXXXII

Today, London’s temperature has been reminiscent of Athens in late May or early June.

Warm days, slightly chilly nights.

What I miss the most about my hometown is strolls bathed in moonlight, breathing the city in, being an observer of the microcosm that late-night Athens is.

I don’t think I’ll ever love a city as much again, with such passion, such unbearable longing, such tenderness… And, at the same time, dreading visiting for too long, or becoming Athenian full-time again.

My feelings for Athens are as confusing and conflicting, as Athens itself is riddled with antithesis and contradictions:

Ancient and modern, wise and impulsive, pretty and ugly, resilient and clumsy.

That’s her core and her beauty.

Καληνύχτα Αθήνα μου.

Random Thoughts LXXXI

Το κάθε ένα άτομο ας κάνει αυτό που μπορεί για να αντέξει τον αβάσταχτο πόνο της ματαιότητας της ύπαρξης...

Random Thoughts LXXX

Isn’t it fucked up that the world we live in is so shitty, we constantly seek forms of escapism?
Be it food, drugs, shopping, gambling, adrenaline rushes or anything else, many are in a constant search for distractions from the life they live.

International Women's Day

(Image Source: https://www.staffnet.manchester.ac.uk/news/display/?id=29403)

Today is International Women's Day.

I won't be wishing us Happy International Women's Day, though. I'll say stop discriminating against us, disrespecting/shaming/raping/murdering/abusing us, instead.

Oh, and a kind reminder that trans women are women.

Now that I got this out of the way, I want to talk about a specific quote I see people share every year on this day: "Here's to strong women. May we know them. May we be with them. May we raise them."

 
I find this quote highly problematic for the following reasons:

-Women shouldn't have to be 'strong' to be appreciated and celebrated. The notion that we always have to be strong, to persevere and rise above puts us on the pedestal, which then 'justifies' unrealistic and unfair expectations of us. We're not superheroes, we're human beings. The expectation of 'strength' also makes it harder for us to feel comfortable asking for help when we need it, resulting in us suffering in silence or alone, which of course works in patriarchy's favour. Because, as long as we keep our pain and suffering to ourselves, we don't 'disrupt' and we're isolated, the patriarchy can keep doing its job of oppressing and controlling women. And lastly, what has 'strength' or being 'strong' been associated with in our society - typically? Masculinity and men. Being vulnerable is mostly - typically - associated with femininity and women. I'm not going to analyse why these stereotypes are bullshit; but, I do want to ask this question: why is it that even on a day dedicated to women, we're expected to act like men to be respected and celebrated? 

-All women and femmes should be celebrated on this day, regardless of their perceived 'strength' or lack of. Excluding a group of women/femmes from their own day is, well... Kind of anti-women.

I understand that many people sharing the quote do it with good intentions, and I appreciate those intentions. However, I'd like to invite you to consider the deeper meaning of what you share and its wider implications.

A plant named 'Vagina'

Since I'm ill, and can't do fuck all atm, I decided to tell you a story about one of two times I tried to be a plant parent.

Back in 2021 or so, a friend had gifted me a pot of a very beautiful pink flower. Don't ask me its name, I know nothing about most plants, unless they can be smoked. lol. Anyhow, my friend was all excited to urge me to become a plant parent. I, on the other hand, wasn't excited. I was horrified. In the past, I managed to kill a cactus; I knew this poor flowery creature stood no chance.

I thought I had to name it (because I have a tendency to name things) in a way that would motivate me to take care of it. Hence, I named her 'Vagina.'

Now, my Vagina started all pink and pretty, and I did remember to water her from time to time. I even talked to her and petted her. I have a slight suspicion all the other housemates watered her, too, when they shouldn't have. Her beautiful pink petals gradually fell, and she looked like a spooky tree from a horror movie.

As you can guess, I was concerned. Very concerned. I didn't want my Vagina to perish. I read a few articles and consulted a couple of green-fingered people on how to save her. I was told I had to remove her from her pot and check if there was any mold on the roots. I was also advised to cut the dry branches off. I did both. My Vagina looked sadder and drier than ever.

As time went by, there was no improvement of her state. My Vagina wasn't going to survive. Her roots seemed fine to me, however, her body was the shadow of its old self. I pondered upon what to do, and finally, decided it was time to bid my Vagina farewell. I took her out of her pot and buried her in another pot, one of a large plant in the garden. My reasoning was that since she was dead/dying anyway, she could at least become one with the earth and benefit another plant.

And thus, my Vagina was gone forever.

Random Thoughts LXXIX

 Being apolitical is one of the greatest indications of privilege and indifference.