…I just crush a lot.

No. It’s not one of those “that’s what he said/she said” kinda thing. I say I’m not a player because I’m really not. I’m more of that Nelly Furtado song.. “I’m like a bird. I only fly away…” Yeah. Cheesy but true. Err.. closest to truth, rather.

But first… WHO THE HELL AM I?

I’m just another 12-year old kid trapped in the image of a 20-something year old girl/woman/lady/what-have-you. I was born and raised overseas but is currently a citizen of the East Coast. I reside in dirty Jerz but I’m practically a citizen of Manhattan. Oh yes, yes. The one and only concrete jungle. Patron to Sex and the City, The Godfather, Lady Liberty, RENT, the fat overpaid bastards of the Mets and the Yankees, Lady Gaga and all that good stuff. Though I am very tempted to say that I actually write for a living, I won’t. There’s no point in that kind of deception. I won’t go into specifics but I am somewhere in the chain of the unglamorous ones of the health care industry. Call me a sellout but hey, whatever pays the bills.

Throughout the course of this 4-year journey, I’ve encountered quite a number of shocks – culturally, spiritually, emotionally, and yes, physically. ALL of which left a bitter aftertaste that just became somewhat sweeter in time. Bottomline: It wasn’t easy. I did not build my defenses, to say the least. They just naturally developed and before I knew it, I had this infallible fortress. And even without being conscious of it, my defenses have become so strong against the mostly malicious advances of this world that I became exactly like the enemy. Overprotection corrupts, even if the original intent is of a noble nature. In keeping the best parts of me well-hidden, I project this kind of monstrous image which directly contrasts with who I really am. No one here knows me. They all claim to, of course, but how couldn’t they? What everyone else sees is but a projection of ourselves. And bad as it seems to be known as a she-jerk, a douchebaguette, and every other name in the book, I just have to reconcile with the fact that it’s my own will that made me be the way that I am perceived. It’s nobody’s fault but mine.

So, I start this “documentation” precisely because I want to be more aware and in turn, be more wary of what I’d choose to project to whom. Is this place really full of assholes or is it just me? Or both? Or neither.

Before I do that, allow me to purge some of my earlier thoughts from another source that I’ve been wanting to trash soon as the aforementioned purpose has been served. I want me, more than anyone, to ride my train of thought from the start right to this very point. And for all who happen to hop on, be comforted with the truth that even monsters have hearts.



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