in june, i started a word doc. it was called “everything i used to love”.

I was feeling wonder slipping from my fingers. It didn’t start in June. It had started long before that and it came in waves, sometimes more intense than before. but it came to a point where i was finding it hard to remember what wonder felt like … to remember if i had ever really held it in my palm.

but i must have. so i wrote that doc, and i finished it three and a half months later. i thought if i could at least remember everything that used to bring me wonder and write it down, maybe i would remember what wonder felt like and maybe id be able to bring it back.

i cant believe that i feel wonder now.

im giddy with the realisation. im giddy with love and life. im giddy with


it was a combination of life events and a strength ive found in myself and the healing of time and luck and good health.

i feel like a child again sometimes.

i see wonder in the cool air on my skin.

i see wonder in my own face that i am coming to love. makeup or no makeup.

i see wonder in the colors on my eyeshadow palette and the endless possibilities. i see wonder in turning my face into a canvas and painting it with beautiful colors and shapes.

i see wonder in the comfort of my bed and the warmth of my blanket and the softness of a toy.

i see wonder in the eyes of small laughing children.

i see wonder in pretty dresses. in twinkling christmas lights. in sweet sodas and good home cooked meals.

i see wonder in people’s happiness. i see wonder in walking the city streets. i see wonder in gorgeous music that makes me want to cry. i see wonder in tears.

i see wonder in the people who love me and the people who stand by me.

i see wonder in the eyes of the people i love.

i see wonder in the soft grass and wildflowers that grow there. i see wonder in the cold water and the hot sand of the beach.

i see wonder in greeting strangers. i see wonder in movement. in feeling the wind blow your hair back. in feeling your heart race and pound.

i see wonder in soft kisses. i see wonder in the touch of a hand.

i see wonder in pretty words. in crinkling pages and the smell of books.

i see wonder in faces and bodies in pictures. i see wonder in the kindness of people and i see wonder in the humanness.

i dont just see wonder. i hear it. i feel it. i touch it. i smell it. i taste it.

ive been writing so many posts these past days because im filled with so much excitement that i want to share. my words and ideas move faster than my energy. im filled with so much desire to create and reflect on love and give it through my words. i wonder often if i should schedule posts instead of just pressing publish as soon as i write them. then perhaps we would have consistent and fairly frequent posts throughout the year rather than a spattering of 10 in one month and none for six.

but i love publishing immediately. i suppose because that’s the moment when the words are most true to life. they are most raw and real because this is the moment that i thought them up and this is where i am right now. it wouldn’t be true to life if i published this post two months from now about wonder if i was having a depressive episode then(but fingers crossed).

and mostly im just far too excited and trigger happy to care.

maybe i see it as a case of … what if the world ended tomorrow? Why the fuck would i wait until tomorrow to scream out all the excitement?

i am wonder


the statistical probability of love

ive heard it said that its rare for two people to meet and become lovers. life partners. rare for two souls to intertwine in love and intimacy. what are the chances? people will say. the stars aligned and destiny and events aligned so that two souls who fit each other could collide and create a beautiful mess

what are the chances, indeed?

quite high, i think.

the truth is that most of us are longing for connection. we’re longing for love. we’re also incredibly drawn to the beauty of other humans. in essence, at any given time, there are a lot of people in close proximity who are all ripe to fall in love

we’re waiting and yearning to hold someone’s hand. to tell them all our secrets. to hear all of theirs too. to kiss someone under the stars. to hold someone in our arms. to have our spirits belong together and with one person alone. to have someone to take care of us. to join us on adventures. to love and be loved.

so its not hard. its not hard for two souls to fall together because we want it. and we have many people from the same generation with some similar ideals and experiences and interests.

and oh, how we want it.

but that’s not to say that the phenomenon of love and unity isnt still magical. it is. i suppose … it makes sense and its statistically probable. that has been my hypothesis this whole post. but statistically probable love is still love. i guess what we can glean from my idea is that – love might not be as elusive as we think. we play a huge part in making things happen.

and i think that we should be pretty hopeful in that knowledge

self fulfilling prophecies

i couldnt begin this post in a more cliche way, but im going to do it anyway

when you believe you are a certain way, you end up becoming more and more like it. im sure there are always exceptions, but beliefs about oneself that may not really be true can limit you in ways you dont realise

a prime example (because this is essentially a post telling me not to be like this): my belief that i am a socially anxious, socially awkward human who is bad at anything social.

and i honestly dont know how true that is. some people tell me im the most awkward person to ever awkward, while others say im completely normal. yes, i am anxious. but once i get comfortable with someone, im fine. once we hang out for a couple months … sure, there are still those awkward silences and weird moments when youve just said hello but the conversation doesnt kick off immediately. but you know what? i survive those moments. and theyre really alright. i dont get sick in my stomach (usually) before having to meet someone. its really not as bad as i make myself believe …

as i do make myself believe its bad. but maybe if i told myself that … no, socially awkward and anxious is NOT who i am and things sometimes really ARE easy and natural … i would actually feel less of this fear and more freedom

what if i believed that i can and am sometimes the person i wish i was – confident and talkative and fun?

ive also realised that im not as awkward or untalkative as some people. thats not to say anything against them – but just to say that maybe the narrative i keep telling myself isnt true anymore.

if i dont want this to be my identity – and i dont – and if i want to change my narrative … then i can

but i need to shed these labels and stories first


so … like any other university student, im working a part time job in retail to pay for my rent and keep me alive while i study because student loans are not enough and besides i would prefer not to be in debt for the rest of my life …

i dont enjoy it. not at all. im working in a supermarket. sometimes packing salads and pricing meat has a certain satisfying monotony to it. greeting customers on loop? not so much. i remember my excitement during my first job but i think that was just the novelty of actually being paid to do something and the fact that my (future) boyfriend at the time worked there too.

im parttime. i work two days a week. its very manageable. but i cant help but admire every full timer who gets through 40 hours a week of this.

its funny how central a job is to a persons life. we spend five days a week working so we can live the other two days. it floors me how much time of our lives is spent … not really living.

or maybe not. maybe im wrong. maybe forty hours a week is not such a big price to pay to live. living is a pretty big thing, after all.

perhaps a better way to look at it is that our job is our way of contributing to society. which it indeed is. maybe its more a case of five days of living for someone other than yourself.

i suppose i just think that idealistic as it sounds, id like to work a job that i truly enjoy and truly feel passion for. i dont want to spend most of my waking hours not really feeling alive. i know there are always unpleasant jobs that someone will have to do but the goal is to make them take as little time as possible, right? With the advent of technology, we can do that more and more. and again though this may seem idealistic, wouldnt it be wonderful to have a world where we can all find a career path that sparks at least a little passion in us and dont have to work a soul sucking job?

when you describe who you are, you typically mention your name, your age, and your job. but if your career is so central to who you are, i think it should have your spirit


2017 has been a wild year. I dare say, the wildest year of my 19 years so far, which to be fair, is not saying very much. If I’m lucky and remain healthy, I’ve lived a quarter of my life – which is to say, there are many more potentially and hopefully wild years to come.

Still. Wow. It’s strange. 2017 has passed remarkably slowly and so so much has happened. It amazes me that so much can be packed into a single year. I started 2017 depressed as hell. I was working three days a week and aside from that, more or less, I was grounded. It drove me crazy. I can’t tell you how claustrophobic it felt. One of my greatest fears is a lack of freedom and I felt that lack. Acutely. It made me panic and it felt like walls closing in. I compensated with holding on, working, and waiting for uni. I tend to hate holidays as well. Without the routine and distraction of schoolwork and without seeing my friends everyday, it is easy to fall into depression. Which I did. Hard.

Life gets better. It really does. But not right away. 2017 saw my first year at university and I don’t know what to say about that, even now. While other parts of my life got better, university was rough all year round. I felt like all the socialization I’d done in year 13 had gone out of the window. I was back at square one. I had no idea how to make friends and was too terrified and exhausted to speak to anyone anyway. I can tell you that I made 0 friends from university this year. Maybe 0.5 friends because there is one person who always says hi to me when we pass?

I can tell you that university didn’t exactly help the depression.

But. There’s something to be said for adventures alone. Even if it was isolating, it was also freeing and eye opening and incredible to go on adventures on my own for, really, the first time.in my life. It was fun taking public transport, as strange as that sounds. It was great discovering the freedom of being able to get around on your own and to go everywhere around the city. It was fun discovering what it means to be your own person … to buy what you want, eat and drink what you want, dress how you want, go where you want, hang with who you want. It was freeing to have the option to go or not go to lectures. It was freeing to have the world as my oyster, even if I was too lonely and sad to fully appreciate that. Still. It was nice to know that that was an option.

I moved out. It still amazes me that that really happened. I’ve been dreaming about moving out since as far back as I can remember and to think that it actually happened … when I was 18 like I wanted … I can’t stop marveling in it. I don’t remember to appreciate it nearly as much as I should … that I’ve really achieved this dream of mine. I rent an apartment room in the city. It’s mine and mine alone and it’s cozy and comfortable and cute. And it’s in the city! Tell me that isn’t lovely. I can look out my window and see the city lights up close and I can go anywhere at midnight and I’m on the 13th floor! If that was my only achievement this year, I could even say that I was happy with it.

Academically, uni was fine. I got the grades I expected both semesters, and even better than I’d dared hoped in second semester. I didn’t take advantage of extra help and I ended up simply studying for exams and assignments much of the time rather than truly immersing myself in learning. I found myself too depressed and tired to care about uni unless grades were involved. That makes me sad. But I made it through and next year will be better. Yes, I always tell myself that but that doesn’t mean it won’t really happen.

I suppose if my social life took a dive, at least my love life became existent. A hella lot of flirting, three relationships, and a rollercoaster ride later, I can say that I’ve come out better for the experience. It was beautiful. It was fun. It was eye opening. It was all of them. I can really say that. It was the friendship that I didn’t have platonically … but also love. I fell in love for the first time, and I would venture to say, it was a good thing … if I had to classify 2017 into columns of good and bad … but of course I don’t do things like that. I deal in grey. Always grey. I suppose it was grey. But a pretty grey.

I discovered some of the best music this year. It’s wonderful. Coupled with the amount of public transport I take, I do really need it. I’m in awe with just how good music can be.

I learned to cook. If you can call it that … 75 percent of my food is good or edible. The other 25 percent must be disguised with copious amounts of sweet soy sauce … but I get by. I learned to clean a shower … sort of. Spoiled child that I am, it’s been a process.

I feel like I’ve found my style this year … or at least a good portion of it. I’m dressing in clothes that I really love and wearing colors I want on my face. I’ve learned to do makeup and it’s brilliant. I am in love. I’m trying not to let fear and embarrassment discourage me from looking the way I want and I think I’ve done a pretty decent job of that. Two years ago, I was self conscious about my mascara looking too obvious. Now I WILL wear a bright red dress and I WILL wear green lipstick and I WILL not care that I look like Christmas.

I’ve tried a lot of new things – food, drinks, places, movies, experiences. I’ve taken risks. Social anxiety aside, I’ve made choices and gone for experiences in which my bravery impresses me. I didn’t like some of them, but mostly I loved and breathed everything life has to offer.

Creativity-wise … I suppose 2017 has been a flop. This blog has been one of the only things I’ve been able to keep up. Flute and piano practice have completely gone out the window and I have written …. let’s see. 2 songs? I have progressed backwards on every language I was learning. I wrote 15000 words of a novel. I read more than twenty books but they were mostly for my uni course. I’ve been taking the year slowly. That’s ok. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will probably not have a creative career and that I’ll probably be happier for it. I’m doing and creating what feels right when it feels right because … that feels right for me.

I’ve written a lot of introspective, non fictional content. I’ve had this platform … always there for me when I needed. I’ve written pieces on the things I love, on music that speaks to me, on boys. Ah, boys. Boys. There have been love letters. There have been existential crises. I’ve kept up my instagram accounts and found art there.

I’ve gone through more than one identity crisis. 2017 didn’t help at all. But I feel a lot more clarity now. I am every feeling I feel and every mask I put on. I am all of them. I am dynamic and colorful and a kaleidoscope. That was a discovery.

A lot of friendships have faded. I haven’t forgotten my myriad of posts on loneliness just one to two months ago. Loneliness is real. It may be one of the most real things in my life. But. (There’s always a but) I’m feeling positive about it now. I’m looking up.

I have a friend that I know I can rely on. I have a friend group that is flaky and fragmented but … we do have good times. Sometimes. I’m not sure who my real friends are. But maybe that doesn’t matter so much. Even though there’s a part of my brain that tells me that THATS ALL THAT MATTERS … I don’t know. Maybe I’ve just come to a point where I’ve realised there’s no point in getting upset over it. I’m a little resigned right now to being the third wheel … or fourth or fifth or seventh wheel. To being the one to ask to be invited places. It doesn’t matter. I’ll find happiness where I can. I’ll give love where I can. Maybe people don’t care especially for me. Well maybe I don’t care especially for most people either. We find people that make life bearable and that surround us with noise and fun and maybe … in rare moments of luck … friendship. What is a friend even? Maybe it doesn’t matter. The people I know are enough. Maybe one day I’ll find the place where I belong. Until then, maybe I’ll be a nomad.

I’m obnoxiously giddy with happiness right now. I’m not sure why. Maybe because the year has been good after all. That might be because I’m in a happy mood and am only therefore remembering the positive moments in HD (my psychology classes would say that’s why – see, I didn’t forget everything). But if that was the case, I’m glad it is. I’d rather remember the good because it was pretty darn good. I achieved and learned so much. I’m in a place I want to be now. I’m living where I want. My relationship with my family is better. I have the best friend a girl could ask for and I have lovely people in my life. I’m in a relationship and I have so much hope for it. I’m maybe dangerously happy with my boyfriend and dangerously committed in a dangerously short amount of time. I don’t care. Life is short and I’m one quarter of the way through. 3 quarters of a lifetime is hardly long enough to do everything and discover everywhere and share the infinite love of a bursting heart with another person. I’m going for what I want.

I’m so so excited for next year.

I know that the high will fade eventually and that maybe the low will come in. Sooner or later. But that’s ok too.

Right now, it’s 2017. And I’m alive.

will you run

will you run because i make things difficult

will you run because i cant see you as much as we’d like

because it’s hard for us to see each other

will you run when you find out im a mess

will you run because i get sad sometimes and moody and emotional and anxious and i cry too much and i go through dark tunnels and pull you into them with me

will you run when im not fun to be around anymore

will you run if i ask for too much

if im too needy and need all your affirmation and love and attention

will you run if i dont look like this anymore

if i become fat and old

if i stopped dressing up

will you run if i cant be the person i was when you first met me

because im not just one person. im all of them and i hoped youd love me for it still

will you because it’s not easy to be with me

im always so fearful that you’ll leave for someone else who makes it easier, who gives you everything you want and need, who makes your life so much better than i could ever

but i guess my question is not

will you run but rather

in spite of all of this and all that i am and all that we are together

will you stay


“In my head I play a supercut of us”


It was a moment in time. Such a small fraction of our lives, but it felt like forever. It felt like you’d always been a part of me.

You can look back and see all the memories of us. I loved your exuberance. Your spirit. You were adorable in your excitement. I loved your way with words. I loved your caring heart. I loved all the times we laughed together. I loved all the times you rested your head on me on the bus, and put your arm around my waist, and held my hand, and stroked my hair. I miss the love you’d show me when we woke every morning. All these supercuts. And to know they’ll only ever be that…


“In your car, the radio up

We keep trying to talk about us”


We kept talking about “us”. First it was, what are we? in detailed careful convoluted conversation. Then we were talking about problems. About ways that you hurt me. About ways I hurt you. About the future. About the past. About the present. About breaking up.

Maybe we talked too much about us for it to work. Maybe that was the sign … that we had so many problems. Talking is good they say. You need to communicate. And I thought it was good. We resolved some arguments. But they would always always come back and become more serious, bigger, and bloodier, every time.

In the end, it was me, always, trying to talk about whether there was an “us” worth fighting for anymore


“I’ll be your quiet afternoon crush, be your violent overnight rush, make you crazy over my touch”


Maybe it blew me away that I was all three to you. And that’s how I fell in love. Because I wanted so much to be wanted. I wanted to touch someone so tremendously. And I felt so much power from that and the power made me drunk.


“In my head, I do everything right”


This line hits me every time. I feel like I did so many things wrong. I hurt you so many times. We went too fast. We didn’t do it right. And I always repeat in my head – if I’d done it differently, maybe it’d have worked out. Maybe if we’d been friends first. I didn’t know you felt that much. You would say I was playing with your heart and maybe I did.

And yet I don’t regret our relationship at all. I wouldn’t want to turn back time and erase it and I don’t think you would either. And neither of us could have predicted the future.

Maybe in the end this line is just a wishful thinking … wishing for a world of no pain and a world of perfection. And I know it doesn’t exist.


“When you call, I’ll forgive and not fight”


I couldn’t forgive you for so many things and there are things and times when it would come back to me and I would be filled with so much anger. But I don’t feel that anger anymore. Maybe I’ve been detached from my feelings now and so it doesn’t matter anymore. But even then, in the throes of it, when I was alone in my room with my thoughts, I’d think: if this were my last day on earth, I want to spend it with the man I love. It doesn’t do to be angry. Forgive. Be the bigger person. Have a bigger heart.

But I wouldn’t really forgive, only on the surface. Underneath, it’d fester. It’d drive me crazy with resentment. And I’d fight, over and over.

It mattered so so little but my heart wasn’t big enough


“Ours are the moments I play in the dark, We were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart”


I dream about you. Over and over. I can’t seem to stop the dreams. We laugh. We make love. We forgive each other. When I’m alone at night, my mind drifts to you.

We WERE wild and fluorescent and beautiful. I will always have a place for you in my heart.


type 4

I decided to read up a detailed summary of my enneagram type again. I am amazed all over by how this profile seems to know me better than I know myself. Everything I read was absolutely true about myself and some were things I hadn’t realised but that made everything make so much sense. It’s hardly a positive portrait of myself but it’s in knowing our weaknesses that we can become better versions of ourselves, isn’t it?

The Individualist: the summary begins by calling this the sensitive, introspective type. I suppose the fact that I’m writing an entire post about my enneagram findings – about who I am as one of nine types – suggests I am highly introspective … too much for my own good, in fact. As for the sensitive aspect, I couldn’t think of a word to describe me better – except perhaps for the next adjectives: expressive, dramatic, self absorbed, temperamental.

Wow. Need I even say more? Already the test has grasped my incessant need to share my thoughts and feelings with the people I care about and my tendency to overdramatise and feel too much. I say that I make a bigger deal out of things than they really deserve – but who’s to say how important something really is? I overcommunicate and feel too much … Hayley Kiyoko always seems to find a way to apply to me.

I have always been self aware as Fours tend to be. The problem is, this self awareness doesn’t translate to any change. While arguably, self awareness is beneficial in and of itself insofar as it contributes to an understanding of self and an increase of knowledge, it doesn’t fix our problems or our flaws. The same goes for honesty. While I am determined to be honest with myself so that I can know myself, it feels like I’m then left stagnating. What does one do with knowledge?

And yet, for a Type Four, maybe change is in fact less important than understanding. The basic fear of the four is having no identity or personal significance and the basic desire is to find themselves and their significance – to find an identity. I’ve never read a truer sentence. Surprisingly, although I’ve  always known that I’m lost at finding my identity, to be confronted with the idea that the need for an identity could be my identity itself is a whole different thing. And at the same time, it’s absolutely true of myself. I feel like I can never quite realise who I am but rather than let it be, I feel this desperation to know and this terror at never finding my purpose and wandering life without knowing who I am and what I’m striving for.

One part I do not exactly relate to is the idea of being fundamentally different from others. I don’t believe I am fundamentally different as I feel that although other people may portray a certain image, I am convinced that they do feel and think some of what I do – except you cannot know for sure unless they choose to confide in you. However, it is true that I see my skill set as being different from others and do tend to see myself as inferior in certain areas – for instance, I maintain that I am horrible at socialising while nearly everyone else has it together. You get to a point where you wonder how much of what you believe of yourself is truth and how much is distorted reality.

The profile mentions the feeling of something missing in oneself. It suggests that we see certain qualities in other people that we feel we lack: will power …  Social ease … Self-confidence … Emotional tranquility. But even though I do perceive this disjuncture between myself and others, I do not want to be alone. It is a primary fear, along with the fear of absence of identity. I want deeply to be understood … to be listened to.

I suppose that’s where the self absorbed aspect comes in as well. I am unable to stop thinking about myself and get out of my head and turn my attention to something bigger and more important. It’s always about me. At heart, Fours are apocalyptic teenagers.

At the same time, the profile does offer advice.

“In the course of their lives, Fours may try several different identities on for size, basing them on styles, preferences, or qualities they find attractive in others.”

This is something I have done. Being unsure of my identity, I try on different identities based on people I admire. But the problem I find is that I fit into several different identities.

“But underneath the surface, they still feel uncertain about who they really are. The problem is that they base their identity largely on their feelings. When Fours look inward they see a kaleidoscopic, ever-shifting pattern of emotional reactions. Indeed, Fours accurately perceive a truth about human nature—that it is dynamic and ever changing. But because they want to create a stable, reliable identity from their emotions, they attempt to cultivate only certain feelings while rejecting others. Some feelings are seen as “me,” while others are “not me.” By attempting to hold on to specific moods and express others, Fours believe that they are being true to themselves.”

And this helps the search for identity to become clearer. Maybe at the end of the day, there is no such thing as a solid identity. As the profile says, human nature is dynamic and ever changing. There is no reason the different identities aren’t equally “me”. Except that makes identity confusing. I feel like I am more than one person. But is that really such a bad thing? There is a risk to only accepting certain moods as being consistent with identity because they limit oneself. They make a person less whole and less full than they could otherwise be. Just imagine all the creative potential and diversity of experience that would come from accepting that “me” does not mean, let’s say, that I am only a socially anxious, quiet, introspective human who doesn’t belong, but that sometimes I am a happy, carefree, loud person who loves and gets along with other people … because the truth is that I have moments and experiences like these. But I become so fixated on the idea that I am socially inept and forever alone that I don’t let myself appreciate the full happiness and success that I am capable of feeling.

“Fours can become so attached to longing and disappointment that they are unable to recognize the many treasures in their lives.”

Case in point.

I always feel like there’s something out there that I am missing. I feel such an aching. But I’ve come to realise it is probably an illusion. There is nothing magical out there that can remove this longing … not in this life at least. There is happiness to be found in what I know.

“As long as they believe that there is something fundamentally wrong with them, they cannot allow themselves to experience or enjoy their many good qualities. To acknowledge their good qualities would be to lose their sense of identity (as a suffering victim) and to be without a relatively consistent personal identity (their Basic Fear). Fours grow by learning to see that much of their story is not true—or at least it is not true any more. The old feelings begin to fall away once they stop telling themselves their old tale: it is irrelevant to who they are right now.”

It’s a scary idea to think that my identity is as a victim and that I’m therefore stuck in a vicious cycle. I suppose it is similar to the idea that people get stuck in abusive relationships over and over because they believe that’s what they deserve. In believing that one is a terrible person and will always fall short, when the opposite happens, it threatens this sense of identity and therefore the mind tells itself that this is not success. This is not happiness. It is not an easy thing to be in pain, so to survive, we tell ourselves that there is beauty in pain. We embrace the pain and make it ours, but we become so intertwined within it that we will in fact, take sadness with us to our graves.

Yet it is also possible to build up a new identity.

“Addictions: Over-indulgence in rich foods, sweets, alcohol to alter mood, to socialize, and for emotional consolation. Lack of physical activity. Bulimia. Depression. Tobacco, prescription drugs, or heroin for social anxiety. Cosmetic surgery to erase rejected features.”

Two words: comfort eating. There was a time when I would eat entire family packs of chocolates at one go. After the first five or so, it was a steady spiral into nausea. It didn’t taste good at all. And yet, I couldn’t stop. I can’t describe the self hatred that came from knowing that I was destroying my own body, that I was making myself fat (a misguided fear but a huge fear of mine nonetheless) which would make me hate myself even more, that I was making myself feel even shittier than I had before, but I couldn’t stop. I find the word comfort eating a little strange. There was no comfort in gorging on sweets.

I will admit becoming a little wary of alcohol now that I’ve started as I do not want to become reliant on it. I use alcohol sometimes to fall asleep when I am in too much emotional pain to do so on my own. It really doesn’t do to numb pain. Pain must be dealt with. But consistent with my over introspective tendencies, dealing with pain means analysing it when maybe sometimes distraction really is better. Maybe I just need to be distracted out of my little bubble and alcohol is good for that.

Advice for Fours include paying less attention to feelings and remembering that negative feelings do not erase the presence of positive ones nor does that become your identity. I especially like the idea that self confidence and self esteem comes from positive experiences. This is true. And yet, before having self confidence and self esteem, it’s difficult to put oneself in the position to have these experiences. But one must do so anyway. At the end of the day, I think a key point for Fours to follow is to spend less time in their mind and in their mire of feelings and more time doing. Being. Meeting people. Making connections. Trying new things and new experiences.

At the end of the day, I also think that simply realising that the obsession with identity is a personality trait makes it seem less serious and less important. It gives perspective in the sense that we see this compulsion not as gospel that we must follow but as an odd quirk of ourselves that we can ignore. We can ignore it … even though it will probably rear its head at the most inopportune of times … we can still ignore it.

The other recommendation I found extremely helpful was that Fours need to focus their thoughts, experiences, and compulsions into creativity. That explains why I get incredibly anxious and depressed when I stop creating. I need an outlet for these impulses and I need a purpose. Creation takes impulse and makes it into art and I feel like I’ve done something of significance. Even if no one should discover what I’ve created, at least … I HAVE created something, and perhaps somewhere, someone will find beauty in it. And through that, I am able to add beauty to another person’s life.

20 Things Before I’m 20

  1. Color my hair an unusual color
  2. Get a cartilage piercing
  3. Join a glee club
  4. Join the circus club
  5. Go to another prom
  6. Learn another programming language (I know Python right now)
  7. Write at least 5 short stories
  8. Get a set of fairy lights
  9. Get my restricted license
  10. Participate in a psychology study/research project
  11. Go clubbing
  12. Spend Valentine’s day with somebody
  13. Perform music on a stage again
  14. Go to at least one counselling session
  15. Donate blood
  16. Take part in the 48 Hour Film Festival
  17. Go to a Pride parade (or a gay bar if I miss the first)
  18. Learn to manage my depression and anxiety in a healthy way (if not completely overcome them)
  19. Progress on the journey of learning to love myself and learn to be happy with being alone. (But, also if I could make friends and find a partner, that would be amazing :P)
  20. Continue to pursue knowledge and art