The person who seems to genuinely always be annoyed at something, or have a topic to complain about endlessly. The heavy traffic. The unpredictable weather. The food being delivered late. Or anything, actually. Basically, the person who is perpetually one minor inconvinience away from totally losing it.

Not gonna lie, I catch myself acting like them a lot.

When the Wi-Fi is slow for about thirty seconds, consider me feeling personally betrayed.

“Just when I want to finish up this article, the internet decides to act up. Why me? Why me?” I mutter to myself under my breath, rubbing my temples.

I’ll slam my laptop screen shut, and get my frustration out by snapping at an innocent member of my family.

I doubt I’m alone in this (well, not in this exact scenario LOL but in the general reaction towards small things not going how we want it to).

We have somehow become so accustomed to instant gratification that even the smallest delay can feel like something we don’t deserve to be tolerating. We want fast Wi-Fi, fast replies, fast deliveries, fast solutions, fast, fast, fast. Everything just has to happen exactly according to our schedule, and satisfaction. Imagine how amazing it would be if we could directly communicate with the universe. How cool would it be if we could send a quick text being like “Hey, just checking if it would be possible for it to not rain in the twenty-six minutes that I will be outdoors? Don’t want my outfit to get ruined. Much appreciated xx” or “I’ve attached Tuesday’s schedule down below. Please ensure that everything will go smoothly.”

The universe yet has to announce this feature though.

But for now, that’s not how the world operates.

And when it doesn’t, we get annoyed.

Sometimes, spectacularly so (moment of silence for this incredible alliteration).

Recently, I’ve been having more moments of irritation at tiny things than normal. When I got ten minutes late for a planned study session, I wanted to rip my hair apart. It got worse when there was no charging cable anywhere near my desk, meaning I would have to wait for my laptop to be charged before starting to study. I started to wonder: why do we let such trifling matters have so much power over us? why do we act as if mild issues are some kind of personal attack?

Perhaps it’s because being annoyed, and grumbling is so easy. It requires no reflection, patience, and certainly not any effort. As soon as something has gone wrong, we immedietly respond (like damn we’re boomerangs at this point). It’s so much more harder to pause, and think - Okay, while this is annoying, do I have to make it a big deal? Let me just take a few deep breaths, and be a bit more patient.

A few reasons why small things can trigger big emotional reactions are:

✦ Our nervous system has always been under stress and pressure, and sometimes without rest periods that allow us to process it in a mature way. As a consequence, our brain becomes way more sensitive to everyday stressors like financial strain, conflicts with our loved ones, and difficult work enviornments. Even a lack of sleep!

✦ Our reactions depend on our experiences from the past. All the time, our brain tries to rely on our past experience to be able to make predictions about what will happen in the future. There are some situations which may activate our emotions linked to our experiences in the past. For instance, when we get criticized, we recall the situation in the past when we felt rejected, or embarrassed. As a consequence, we react more emotionally. If our past experiences are not resolved, and we didn’t process our emotions in the past, it can automatically make things worse for us in the current situation.

✦ Our emotional needs are activated. If our basic psychological needs are threatened (such as security, validation, belonging, autonomy, respect, and connection), even minor events can cause an intense reaction.

So, we’re not exactly overreacting for no reason. I’m wasn’t only furious because I had to wait for my laptop to charge. I was probably also exhausted. I already had multiple other things going wrong that day, and I was stressed.

I think it’s important to understand that while we should be aware of why we reacted in the way we did, it should not serve as an excuse. The next time something small sends you into a spiral, catch yourself before you become the equivalent of a boiling kettle. Ask yourself what is it that you’re actually upset about.

Of course, I’m not trying to get you guys to be perfectly calm people who never ever get irritated. (Gosh, that itself sounds exhausting in a way.) We’re allowed to be annoyed, and we’re allowed to have our bad days. But it’s time we start giving our reactions some space to take a breather first.

One rule I’ve been trying to remind myself of is this: will I care about it in five minutes? five hours? five days?

Five minutes from now, sure, I might still be pissed off. Five hours? I would have most likely forgotten about it. Five days? No chance. And if that’s the case, why am I letting it bother me to this extent?

One note: this does not mean that every problem should be dismissed just because it won’t matter five days from now. certain things truly do deserve our attention. what i’m talking about is those minor inconviniences that end up hijacking our mood.

Another thing that seems to have been helping me become slightly more relaxed is getting out of my house, and walking. Even if I’m not only walking, and instead going to the supermarket to buy groceries, I’m still getting some fresh air, and a change of scenery. I would honestly be driven up the wall if I’m constantly cooped up inside my house.

Sitting out in the balcony also helps. Couple days ago, I sat there listening to music for at least thirty minutes, just taking in the evening view, and letting myself exist without doing anything productive.

It sounds really simple, but physically removing yourself from whatever is bothering you at the moment is so impactful. Being in another place makes my mind immedietly slow down, and think about softer things.

And after I’m back, the thing that felt like the biggest problem in the world to me before becomes what it was all along:

a minor inconvinience.

sometimes i am consumed by so much self-hatred, and disgust that it is hard to leave the house. even stepping out of my bedroom can feel impossible.

and sometimes, i desperately wish the mirror didn’t show me what i truly look like. i wish it was a bit kinder to me, and a bit more gentle. after all, if i was an object, i would be packed into one of those cardboard boxes with FRAGILE stamped boldly across it.

when my insecurities become unbearable, i avoid making eye contact with the girl in the mirror. i avoid it completely.

because i know what will happen if i look for a second too long.

i’ll find a flaw.

a red mark that wasn’t there yesterday. dark circles. uneven skin. a feature i hadn’t noticed yesterday, but now can’t stop staring at.

if i lean closer to the mirror, there’s more that i see. it’s worse.

i should look at myself the way i look at other people. you should too.

when i look at my friends, i don’t search for what is wrong with their faces. i don’t stare at them, and calculate whether they are pretty enough to feel confident.

so why do i sabotage myself like this?

is it the mirror that is cruel, or is it me?

isn’t the mirror simply being honest?

i want to wake up tomorrow, and i want to look at myself in the mirror without looking away because i’m scared.

i want to see a girl, and her pure soul without nitpicking her flaws first.

i deserve a bit more kindness from the beautiful girl across me in the mirror.

Signing out,

elsewhere girl xx

Dear younger me,

Before you read this, PLEASE - stop crying over the Math, or Chemistry homework that you’re struggling to understand. It’s not the end of the world, seriously.

Anyway, are you done being a drama queen for now? It’s time for a nice trailer on how your year is going to pan out.

I’m sure that things are hard for you right now, and ohhh boy, it’s only going to get worse HAHAHA. Sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, and also sorry if I’m scaring you, but it’s true! You will be punched in the face by multiple exams with unrealistic timetables, and schedules (you will eventually be giving three exams in one day FYI), friend problems, bad grades (and by bad, I mean REALLLYYYY bad), shitty days, and countless crying sessions at your desk. I know you probably won’t believe this right now, but you’re going to be so okay. Actually, you’re going to be way more than okay. You’ll pull through it all. And you’ll eventually realize that none of these experiences were the end of the world.

I desperately want you to know that while you’re in the middle of something, it can feel so much bigger than it actually is. You’re going to spend ages worrying about things that haven’t happened yet, or even stuff that you should not be worrying about. STOP OVERTHINKING! Just stop it. It’s not worth it. You’re going to forget to take breaks, and slow down, and it’s not good for you. Don’t treat every little mistake like a catastrophe.

Another thing that’s going to happen to you that will change everything: you’re getting a B in that English lit exam in October. Let that sink in for a moment. Yes, a B. I’m well aware that you’ve never seen a grade below A* in English in your life, so when you will recieve the B, it’s going to be a huge shock for you. You’re going to cry all day. Everyone else is going to get a way better grade than you, and they’re going to keep nagging you, and embarassing you about doing badly. I’m sorry. It will be hard. You will doubt yourself, and you will be crushed. But guess what? Major lock-in incoming. Like hardcore. You begin to wake up at 7am, and write essays until your hand starts throbbing, and your pens run out. You work, and work, and work, and decide that everyone is going to be proved wrong. Fast forward to when you will actually open your IGCSE results on 18th August at 11:30 AM - you’ll see a big, fat A* in English Lit. Not only that, but you end up doing so well, that you’ll have an enormous chance of being a country topper. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you because you will not give up, and you will have the courage to start all over, and work super hard. I’m proud of you because you will sacrifice naps, and breaks, and hang-outs to study some more, and it makes me cry just thinking about it, because it all paid off.

Moving on, something else that I want you to understand: cherish your memories. Especially because it’ll be your last year in this school…and this country. You’re going to miss your friends, and the familiarity of everything a lot. You’re going to regret taking tiny moments, and experiences for granted. You have an amazing life, and you’re very, very privileged, and blessed. Keep reminding yourself of that. Look around, and take it all in. Hug your friends tomorrow, and tell them that you love them, and you’re grateful to have them. They are genuinely the best. I’m missing it all terribly right now.

What’s incredible about the year you’re going to have, is that you become even more closer to your friends. Okay, fine, you will have fights here and there, and you will have a falling out with someone from the group, but you will find the people that love you for who you are, and who will stick by you through it all. In just one year, you will find out what having best friends actually feels like.

That’s all I wanted to say to you.

So drop the stress over studying. You’ll handle it perfectly. Go hug your friends. Take pictures. Read a nice book. Laugh lots and lots and lots. Don’t obsess over a grade, or a small blunder. Tell your family that you love them.

You’re going to have some awfully difficult days, but you’re also going to have some of the best days of your life.

You don’t know it yet but in the coming year, you’re going to prove to yourself what an amazing person you are.

Love,

future you

A different kind of article, I know. After recieving my IGCSE results a few days back, I’ve been reflecting a lot about the kind of year I had, especially academic wise, and how hard I worked.

I faced difficulties, and there were several times where I was being extremely, and might I add, unnecessarily, unkind to myself. Writing letters to your past self heals you in a way, I guess. It makes you think deeply about the kind of person you were, and view the struggles you faced in a more mature perspective. For example, I resented the B in English with all my heart. Really. I was so, so bitter about it. And who wouldn’t be, right? But now when I think back to it, I realize that it was nothing but a miracle in disguise. It made me wake up, and realize that I was way too overconfident, and had been slacking off. I needed a reality check, and I got it. It’s now a reminder for me to approach my hardships in a better way. Maybe pause, take it easy, and first ask myself: how is this going to help me? and trust me, you will always have an answer to that. Perhaps not immedietly. But there’s always a reason for everything 💗

I hope this letter to my past self provided some entertainment for you guys LMAO, and also maybe even inspired you to do the same.

Signing out,

elsewheregirl xx

When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does. -Kathleen Kelly, from You’ve Got Mail

As someone who grew up firmly believing that books are her best friends, I’ve clearly spent a considerable amount of time with my nose buried between their pages. I’ve read in restaurants, cars, noisy family gatherings, beaches, school breaks, on good days, and bad days, and awfully late at night when I promised myself I’d read only “one more page” - which never ended up happening. As someone who cannot part with her old, worn-out childhood books because she’s far too emotionally attached to them, there is absolutely no way I’ll be able to write an unbiased article about reading. I will defend books with my heart and soul, because I know how much they’ve given me, and changed me over the years.

So, I think it’s only fitting to go back to the very beginning - to when I was about seven - and trace all the ways reading has impacted me since then.

⟢․⁺┆ AGE SEVEN: BOOKS KEPT ME COMPANY

After a life-changing trip to Barnes and Nobles during a vacation in the U.S, I began to read a lot. Thankfully, I was never much of an i-pad kid to begin with, so I would turn to other creative ways of entertaining myself: drawing, painting, random games I would come up with, talking to my imaginary friends, and pretend play. After I came back from Barnes and Nobles, with bags and bags of books in my little hands (thank you mom, and dad), I had the next few weeks, or possibly even months sorted out for me. I read the entire Junie B. Jones series, Ivy & Bean, Here’s Hank, literally any Enid Blyton book (but my favorites were: Twins at St. Clare’s, Malory Towers, and Five Find-Outers). Yes, I still own every single one of them, in perfect condition.

I was inseperable from these books, and slowly, I started to find a friend in them. When I had nothing else to do, I would curl on the couch, and read for as long as I liked. If I had a fight with my parents, or my friends, I’d be consoled by the current story I was reading. Books became a very constant presence in my life. Honestly if there’s one thing about books that I’ve grown to appreciate the most, it’s that they will always stick by your side.

That was when I first realized that if I had a book with me, I would never be bored.

⟢․⁺┆ AGE TWELVE: BOOKS CHANGED THE WAY I SAW THE WORLD

As I grew older, I naturally began to read longer, more complicated books in a variety of genres. I experimented with literary fiction, historical fiction, mysteries, adventure, etc etc. The way I approached reading slowly changed. Of course, I was still reading for my enjoyment, but I paid more attention to the people inside the books. I didn’t just root for or against the characters, but I tried to understand them. I empathized with their struggles, thought about their flaws, and what made them act the way they did. I wouldn’t say this immedietly made me an extremely perceptive, and empathetic person, but it did help to gradually develop my emotional quotient.

What I learned through books at this age was that a character doesn’t necessarily have to be perfect, or likeable for me to get them. I could disagree with someone’s decisions, and yet still feel sympathy for them. Books introduced me to so many people who were nothing like me. Characters from different backgrounds, ages, time periods, and entirely different views on the world. Consequently, it made me more curious about people in real life, too. I started to understand that there was a lot more to a person than just what’s on the surface, and that we all have our own unique experiences, fears, and motivations.

Basically, unlike when I was still young, I didn’t believe anymore that people can only be defined as a hero, or a villian.

⟢․⁺┆ AGE FOURTEEN: BOOKS PAVED THE PATH FOR ME TO BECOME A BETTER WRITER

Reading taught me a lot about writing, and the impact different styles of writing has on readers more than any tutorial, or masterclass ever could. I became mature enough to observe, and pinpoint effective imagery, character development, pacing, and the tiny details that the author would add to make the world created feel real. I’d reread descriptions, and admire well crafted dialogue, and many times I would (and still do) stop and think, “HOW the hell did the author do that?” I didn’t consciously realize that I was learning things until it subtly came out in my own writing. That’s why, in every “How to write better” video that you might watch, or article that you might read, the most important tip will always always be to read more.

I also started noticing how reading books, and absorbing unique writing techniques helped me in English class in school. I would use my skills in essays, and descriptive or narrative pieces in exams, or homework. This gave me a huge advantage in my class, and it also made these assignments come way more naturally to me than it did to others. While my classmates despised them, I genuinely enjoyed it (also partly because I’m a nerd uh…). I wasn’t sitting there memorizing a list of fancy words, and phrases (YES THEY WOULD ACTUALLY DO THAT BEFORE AN ENGLISH EXAM LIKE IT’S ABSURD??!!) because I had spent years reading them, and they had gradually become part of the way I wrote.

Fast forward to now, at sixteen, books are still my best friends. Although I have fallen out of my consistent reading habit, I’m trying my hardest to get back to it. It’s a bit heart-breaking that I find myself doom-scrolling instead of picking up a book, but I think reading an hour a day might just put me back into the habit.

If you’re in the same position as me, and struggling to get back into reading, here are some tips that might help:

☆ reread an all-time favorite book of yours: there will be no pressure whatsoever. you already know the characters as if they were your family, the story, and the little details, so you can enjoy being back in a world that feels familiar to you. all it takes is one book to remind you why you love reading

☆ start with a small reading goal: absolutely do not force yourself to read for two hours or three, or even one hour. if you want to slowly start reading again, that kind of goal is unrealistic. set it for fifteen minutes to thirty minutes a day, and you will naturally spend more time reading as the days pass by.

☆ read something short: a short story, or a novella can seem much less intimidating than a 300 page novel. no explanation needed.

☆ put your phone somewhere inconvenient: sorry, but it really is the damn phone. if my phone is directly beside me, there’s no way i will not pick it up to scroll every two minutes, and suddenly i’ve been on my phone for an hour. put it across the room, or lock it up in a cupboard, or i don’t know, just bury it somewhere, and give yourself a chance to actually get lost in a book.

Writing this has made me understand my why. I don’t want to (and never should) read simply to announce that I’ve finished another book. I want to read because of everything books have given me over the years, and to continue absorbing more.

I want to hold onto the little girl that had a book with her wherever she went, because they were there for her in every situation.

Signing out,

elsewheregirl xx

Here’s everything that I do to fill my cup:

1. READING ₊˚⊹♡ I love reading for long periods of time, uninterrupted. It helps me escape elsewhere, be a whole new person, and forget about my ever-present worries, and anxiety. There were times when I would be so utterly mad at the world, and my life, that I would curl up in bed for more than three hours with a book (preferably rereading something that I adore to death), and all my tears would dry up within seconds. I would achieve this sort of inner peace and calm from simply reading, and I don’t think anything else can replace that. It quiets down my loud thoughts, and fifteen minutes into the book, I’ve forgotten everything.

2. MUSIC ₊˚⊹♡ Mostly with my headphones on, and lying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Stray Kids used to dominate my Spotify. I found their music - both the soft, and heartwarming ones to the loud, chaotic, and intense ones - so healing. I would be too focused on their heavenly vocals, and the melodies to remember the bad day I had had, or the overwhelming upcoming exam. At times, I would cry just listening to their songs because it made me feel as if everything was going to be okay. Although I don’t listen to them as much as I used to, I still gravitate back to their albums when I find myself desperate for comfort, and a distraction. Recently, I’ve been obsessed with Seventeen, Ariana Grande, Sabrina Carpenter, and Olivia Rodrigo.

3. MY FRIENDS ₊˚⊹♡ Meeting my best friends, or talking to them on the phone about literally anything honestly has some powers because it makes me feel whole. We could be having the most random, and diabolical discussion one minute and a deep one the next. If I recieved one cent for everytime I laughed till I had tears in my eyes with my friends, I’d be so loaded with money lol. I’m never afraid of being totally myself with them, and I never feel like I’m being judged.

4. WRITING ₊˚⊹♡ Any form of writing. Usually, it’s working on a short story/book, or venting to my journal, but I’m glad to say that writing on Substack has joined the club ♡ Writing has been my favorite form of creative self expression since I was a kid, and I feel most at ease when I’m doing what I love the most (although there are times when I just want to smack the blank document on the screen in anger, it’s this kind of struggle that I don’t mind at all). I can’t emphasize how much writing on Substack has helped me, and it’s not even been a full month yet! It’s made me more observant, reflective, and of course, confident that there are people in the world who are willing to read my work, and who appreciate it. (thank you guys:))

5. YOUTUBE CONTENT ₊˚⊹♡ Watching long form videos on Youtube. It’s usually Stray Kids/Seventeen content, writing vlogs, or educational videos about any topic. With Stray Kids/Seventeen content, I’m laughing for basically the entire video. For thirty to forty minutes, I can set aside my overload of agonizing thoughts, and watch them play the most random games, and challenges. Writing vlogs are my ritual right before I start writing, or while I’m taking a writing break. They make me so motivated, and encouraged, and it’s nice to see that I’m not the only girl hunched over her desk, typing away on a document that she hopes someone might hold in their hands one day.

6. COMFORT FOOD ₊˚⊹♡ Arguably the best thing on this list: eating my comfort food, or going to one of my favorite restaurants. When I’m digging into a warm bowl of soup, noodles, or occasionally dumplings, I feel so much lighter than before. I’ve been doing a lot of research for my book about food, and the immense importance it holds in our life, and it’s changed my perspective so much. Enjoying my favorite dishes with a loved one, or even alone can instantly change my mood, and help me clear my head. It’s like the warmth of the food melts my insides.

7. GETTING READY ₊˚⊹♡ Everytime I have an event, or an occasion to dress up for, I have the time of my life getting ready (probably more fun than the event itself lol). I’ll connect my playlist to the speakers, and sing along to the music while I do my make-up, and hair. I can’t explain how fulfilling it is for me. Maybe it’s the excitement of having somewhere to go, and looking my best.

8. TEA ₊˚⊹♡ Yeah, this literally fills my cup. I’ve become so accustomed to drinking tea every day that I cannot start studying, writing, or doing anything for that matter in the morning without having my tea first. There’s something so soothing about sitting down at my desk with a cup of tea before a long session of working. I’m not even sure anymore whether I drink tea because I truly love it, or because my brain has decided that absolutely nothing meaningful or productive can happen until I have tea. Whatever it is, it’s become like a constant for me. This might make no sense, but I feel a lot more calmer when there’s hot tea in my hands.

9. MANDALAS ₊˚⊹♡ To be very honest, I don’t do mandala art as often as I would like. I’m too much of a perfectionist, and I really need the time, and patience for it. However, when I do sit down to make one, it is such a calming, and relaxing experience. I’m fully immersed in the repeated patterns, and trying to come up with new designs. I try not to listen to music while making madalas, because I want to appreciate the silence as I draw. Finishing a page, and the pride that comes with it is the best, best feeling. I never finish a mandala on the same day - it takes me around three to four days to complete it, and that’s because I don’t want to force myself. I do it solely for my leisure, so it takes me a while to get through one :) I really recommend trying them out.

10. DEEP CLEANING ₊˚⊹♡ Admittedly, it’s annoying to start. I’m entirely too lazy to clean my room, or rearrange my bookshelves, but once I get into the flow, it’s actually pretty fun. Just as I do while getting dressed, I play music in the background to keep me company. It’s oddly therapeutic - clearing out the clutter, putting everything back neatly where it belongs, and watching my room become at least a BIT more presentable, and organized than before. There’s a saying that your space is a reflection of your mind, and your mental state. I’m not too sure just how accurate that is, but I do know that after I finish cleaning, I feel a lot more clear-headed. Plus, it’s fun to dig up random stuff from ages ago that I had forgotten about.

Anyway, that’s all for me. These are the little things that make me feel myself again. They’re nothing particularly unique, or groundbreaking, which is why I appreciate them even more. Filling your cup doesn’t have to be something over the top. It’s the little rituals, hobbies, and moments that are there to remind you that life is more than our to-do lists, and countless responsibilities.

Let me know in the comments what fills your cup ✩₊₊ ⊹°

Signing out,

elsewheregirl xx

Out of the several, countless emotions that we as humans feel, jealousy and self-doubt seem to be the ones that destroy us the most. Not just destroy, but wholly consume us until we shrink, and begin to question our abilities, worth, and importance. More often than not, these feelings stem from one thing: comparison.

We look at other people, and listen to their great long massive jaw-dropping list of accomplishments, and successes and we think - Damn, I wish I was her/him, and above all, Why am I not there yet?

Don’t get me wrong, though. When a friend tells me about what they’ve recently achieved, I’m happy for them, and I’m proud…to some complicated extent. But when I’m sitting in my bedroom at night — alone — with only my many thoughts as an unfriendly companion, I think back to what they told me. I fiddle with my fingers, agitated. I bite my nails (bad habit, yes, I know), and suddenly, my mind starts to wander. Before I know it, I’ve gone from celebrating someone else’s hard work, to feeling totally envious and upset that I didn’t do the same thing, or have something just as cool to talk about.

As Olivia Rodrigo very rightly says in Jealousy, Jealousy:

And I see everyone gettin' all the things I want
I'm happy for them, but then again, I'm not

Our biggest misconception when it comes to comparing ourselves with others, is that life has one starting line, one route, and one finish line. It’s usually the way I perceive it as well, especially when I start to freak out about being “behind”…which makes no sense if you think about it. How can I think that I’m unable to keep up with everyone else, and that I’m losing pace when none of us are running on the same track? And while we’re at it, why am I even turning my head to look sideways and observe how other people are running, and how far along they’ve gone when I know that it’s going to slow me down? Why am I deliberately sabotaging myself by spending all my energy invested in someone else’s progress instead of my own?

Truth is, comparison can only work if our conditions are all the same. Life isn’t offered as a standardized experience, though.

It’s not a test where we have the same paper, the same amount of time to finish it, and the same resources to study for it. We all start from different places. Our backgrounds, upbringing, fears, dreams, and setbacks along the way are unique. This is still something I need to constantly remind myself, and honestly, it’s really difficult to not get distracted when I see people sprinting so far onward. It’s not a very pleasant sight, but what I can say for sure is that looking sideways has never ever made me run any faster. Yes, comparison is the thief of joy, but it is ALSO the thief of our attention and focus.

Another thing to realize is that when we compare ourselves to others, we’re basically comparing our entire story with one little chapter we’ve read from theirs. (Hang in there, guys, I swear I think I’m onto something). We won’t ever see the entire picture of another person’s life, so it’s wrong of us to equate one small piece of their story to the entirety of ours. We see where they are now, but we never get to see the position they were in when they started, or all the difficulties they had to overcome to get where they are now. Sometimes, we don’t even know if we’re seeing the whole truth. Acceptance letters, awards, new jobs, new internships, straight A’s, and we go: “Oh, they’re so much better than me.” We don’t know anything else, though. We don’t know what they’re struggling with, what they’re afraid of, or the countless rejection letters they recieved before getting their first acceptance. Point is, everyone has their own shit going on in life. We shouldn’t have such a one dimensional view of the world, and think that JUST because some random person got their first job before us means that they’re automatically smarter, more successful, and somehow better than we are.

They’re simply at another stop along the way, and your stop might be a whole other one, or it might just come later on.

This is the hardest part to accept, but it’s true: later DOES NOT mean never.

There is no universal schedule, or timetable that states that you should be achieving a certain number of things at a certain time period or age. And also, gentle reminder that there’s no crazy scoreboard keeping track of who got where first, and that’s because WE’RE NOT RUNNING THE SAME RACE.

If I want you to to take back just one thing from this post, it’s this: They’re running their own race, and you’re running yours. It will not look the same, so don’t falter, or be demoralized by looking sideways. It’s not going to help you in any way (trust me because this is coming from someone who is basically the CEO of watching other people run instead of bothering about her own track.)

I hope this was at least a tiny bit helpful, if not life-changing. Please keep coming back to this post if you need a reminder 💗

Signing out,

elsewheregirl

Acne, blackheads, redness, dark circles - you name it, I was (and still am) incredibly self-conscious about it. What was different about my perspective though, was that before owning makeup, I was under the impression that it was going to cover everything that I had been nitpicking in the mirror for the longest time. Basically, I thought that my confidence could be bought at a beauty store. (Spoiler: …yeah that’s…not how it works…UM)

Instead, it introduced a whole new package of worries, and ones that I hadn’t expected.

Before I share my thoughts, I want to make one thing clear: the message of this article is NOT arguing that makeup is inherently bad. It is simply a reflective, and informative piece about how our relationship with makeup has evolved over time, and the ways in which it has shifted from being a form of self expression to, for many people, a way of concealing parts of ourselves that we were taught to dislike.

Never had I been so aware, or concerned about my skin texture or acne until I began scrolling on social media. Like many of us, I gradually absorbed the idea that these were things I was supposed to notice, and more importantly, fix.

Think about it. Think about the technical makeup terminology that is used.

We conceal blemishes, correct redness, blur pores to give the effect of flawless skin. Even the names of products that we purchase suggest that our bare, natural faces are nothing but problems waiting to be solved. And look, I get it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to cover up a breakout before attending an event, or brighten your under eyes after a sleepless night, or…whatever else it is. The worry that I’m trying to voice out here is that our first thought before leaving the house cannot, cannot be “Okay, what do I need to hide?”, because that question makes us start believing that our natural faces aren’t enough on their own. And it’s interesting how we rarely ask ourselves the opposite question, like What do I like about my appearance? Which of my features are most distinctly me?

Make-up has always been branded as a tool for self expression. Which I agree with completely. It’s artistic, and it allows people to experiment with color, texture, and different styles before learning what actually works for us. It’s a creative outlet for many. But what I want to emphasize is that self expression and self correction are not the same. The moment we start wearing makeup because we feel uncomfortable being seen without it is when our relationship with it changes. For me, that’s where the problem lies. It is also something that I’m currently struggling with. The first day I did a full face of makeup, I felt so incredible. I felt confident, and beautiful, and thought that it was doing justice to my features. The next day, I put it on again, even though there wasn’t any occasion. I looked at myself in the mirror, and thought: Wow, I look great without all those acne scars. So, yeah. From day two itself, I started treating makeup as something that helped me cover all my “flaws” instead of appreciating its creativity and artistry. I had already stopped thinking “Oh, this is so much fun!”, and rather, I thought, “I don’t want people to see me without this.”

The point here is: your confidence and sense of self should not only exist when your makeup is on, and disappear when you remove it.

I was watching this video by Kiki Chanel - “WHY ARE 10 YEAR OLDS TAKING OVER SEPHORA?”, and I mean it when I say that I was disturbed, concerned, confused, and disgusted.

For reference, this is the link:

Can I just say that at ten years old, my main priority was what game I was going to play at recess with my friends? Certainly not deciding which concealer offers full coverage, and spending a bomb on lip glosses. I didn’t even know what a concealer was…

Anyway, the reason why I’m bringing this up is not to criticize the children. It’s to criticize, and question how they got these ideas of NEEDING makeup and skincare. These thoughts are learned, and developed through advertisements, content we are incessantly exposed to, influencers, and beauty standards. And yeah, why do they even have the means to consume this content in the first place…though that’s a whole other article subject which I might save for another time.

Here’s an extract from an article by The Washington Post which is also discussed in the video, and which I have linked below.

“…the beauty industry is targeting: tween girls. Eight-to-12-year-old girls are the largest growth market for the cosmetics industry, with tweens spending $40 million a month on beauty products, according to Pinkstinks, a nonprofit aimed at fighting gender bias in the beauty industry. And at least 80 percent of U.S. tweens use beauty products, a 2016 report by the trend-forecasting group Mintel found.”

https://www.washingtonpost.com/technology/2023/12/02/evelyn-tiktok-makeup-trends/

This article is so revealing about just how much earlier conversations about appearances are beginning. By believing that they have aspects of their face they should be ashamed of, and that makeup is the solution to those “problems” is so utterly destructive. It completely restricts them from having a…might I say…NORMAL childhood?

So I’ve rambled a lot, and I apologize if this isn’t a well structured and organized post. I just wanted to express what’s been on my mind for a while. Again, this article is not telling you to throw away your makeup bag. It’s simply an invitation for you to reflect on your relationship with it. I wear make-up when I go out, and I don’t think I’ll stop anytime soon. I love experimenting with what works for me, and what doesn’t, and trying new products. But writing this made me realize that I never want makeup to become the only source of my confidence and self esteem. I don’t want to give a tube of concealer any power.

I hope we can continue celebrating makeup as the remarkable form of self expression that it is, while also keeping in mind that we are still very much the same person without it on.

Signing out,

elsewheregirl xx

Honestly, I don’t even know how to describe it in a way that makes sense but if I had to try, it would be this: a strange wave of gloominess that washes over you, despite life being at its best, and brightest. It’s the awareness that you’re not cherishing every moment of summer, and the guilt that comes along with it. It’s the moments that are flying by so goddamn fast that you can’t even stop to appreciate it and be grateful for it as it’s happening. It’s wondering: am I making the most of this?

That’s where the feeling comes from. It’s not that summer isn’t good. It’s actually about constantly wanting to make it better, and live up to some unrealistic expectation I’ve set for myself because of - you know I’m going to say it - the media. Summer has turned into a season that just has to be maximized. Every day needs to be productive, meaningful, adventurous and memorable. My gallery should be filled with aesthetic beach pictures, selfies with my friends, a different outfit each day, and gorgeous meals at well-known restaurants. If it’s not, my summer feels wasted.

And usually when summertime blues hit me, I tend to entertain the misery and sit with it for entirely too long.

I should have gone out more.

I should have read more books.

I should have started a new hobby.

Listening to myself say “should have done this and should have done that” 24/7 has officially got on my nerves.

Since I finally had enough of my moping, I decided to make a list of all the tiny things that truly make up this season rather than just the big, showy aspects that we love so much.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

✶ EVERYTHING TO LOVE ABOUT SUMMER ✶

1. eating cold watermelon straight from the fridge: no discussion needed, watermelon is THE fruit of the summer

2. being able to wake up later than usual

3. having time to reconnect with your hobbies (in my case, that would be reading, writing, watching movies, researching random topics that absolutely did not require three hours of my time but interested me anyway)

4. all the new music, movie, and book releases that you can get down to binging immediately

5. summer rain

6. cold iced teas that tastes ten times better than they do normally because what the hell it’s summer, OF COURSE it’s great

7. COLD WATER after being in the heat for a long time. caps for emphasis.

8. making a summer playlist, but playing only one song on repeat: do i tell myself to listen to the whole playlist? yes. do i actually end up doing that? no, but it exists for the aesthetic

9. pretty skies

10. cold showers

11. staying longer in cafés because you don’t have anywhere else to be

12. late breakfasts that end up turning into a brunch

13. watching movies or shows late at night

14. board games with friends that last hours

15. shopping: there’s really something about going to a mall with absolutely no agenda, and not being in a rush

16. scented candles after sunset

17. traveling

18. loud music during road trips: WINDOWS DOWN

19. laughing till your stomach hurts

20. experimenting with new drinks

I know there’s tons more that should be apart of the list (add more in the comments PLEASE so we can remind each other why we shouldn’t take the little things for granted), but these are the ones that came to my mind first. I think it’s incredibly easy to become so focused on making the perfect summer that we forget to appreciate the one that we are already living.

It shouldn’t just be about doing more, but also noticing and valuing more.

Signing out,

elsewheregirl xx

Which is true…

but the more I think about how the art has shaped me since my childhood, how the practice of writing a story or a journal entry has been a constant in my life through every phase, storm, and struggle, the more I realize that writing has been my best friend long before I knew it meant something to me.

I’ve been an avid reader since I was little. The love for reading stories translated into curiosity, and excitement for learning new words. When I was about six years old, I got a perfect score in a spelling test in school. As a reward, my dad gifted me this tiny journal. It had a vintage Parisian cover, decorated with roses, the Eiffel tower in the center, and all sorts of intricate designs. It had a white, lace ribbon to mark the pages and lined paper inside that he wanted me to fill with new words and their meanings as I continued to build my vocabulary. In the note that he wrote me on the first page, he said, “One day, your vocabulary will be better than me. I hope the new words you learn and write in this diary help you reach that goal.”

So that’s what I did.

I genuinely cannot believe that tiny diary was where the seed of storytelling was first planted. Somehow, that seed grew into a plant, then a tree, and till now, it hasn’t stopped growing. It still has a long way to go.

In the first couple of pages, it’s clear that I was extremely committed to doing what he told me to do. I would write down a word that was new to me, along with the meaning, and a colorful illustration. I remember feeling so proud of myself (like I’M LEARNING BIG, FANCY WORDS?? HOW COOL IS THAT? I CAN’T WAIT TO USE THESE IN CONVERSATIONS WITH MY FRIENDS SO THEY THINK I’M INTELLECTUALLY SUPERIOR!) Reminder that I was only a little girl whose main ambition in life was to impress her friends with literally anything…

Anyway, on the tenth page of the journal, it’s not a new word. It’s a short story. I wish I could remember what finally pushed me to do it. Was it sheer boredom? Was it inspiration from some book I had read? Did someone tell me to have a go at it? Honestly, I don’t know. The story was about a girl who gets scared in the dark. (I know, super unique, right?). Of course, it wasn’t anything groundbreaking. The sentence structure is atrocious. What I had probably assumed was an artfully crafted, palpable sense of suspense was, in reality, not that at all.

However, I’m so, so, so utterly grateful to whatever, or whoever it was that made me write it, because this one story gave me the confidence to fill up the entire journal with other stories, other worlds, other characters. When I read this journal now, I notice how my stories gradually became more complex and deeper. They began to have traces of my own experiences, and they reflect the unique ways in which I viewed the oh-so-big world around me.

I started to bring the journal with me everywhere, because “what if I come up with an idea and I don’t have anywhere to write it down?”. I started becoming so immersed in this brand-new, creative outlet that I had discovered, that I had no clue how it was slowly changing my life, and how it was going to eventually mold my identity and sense of self.

Fast forward to ten years later, where I’ve written countless stories (many unfinished, but many that hold a place in my heart) in notebooks, diaries, pieces of paper, and yes, google docs.

I also believe it’s unfair to not give credit to all the diary entries that have seen both the good and ugly in me. Writing about my stupid middle school fights that truly felt like the end of the world when I was experiencing them, humiliating crushes, shitty days at school where I received a horrible grade, incessant overthinking, and expressing every emotion that has ever consumed me, helped to keep me sane. These entries often found their way into fictional stories, where I could give myself the ending I wanted. Writing has been my best friend, my companion when I am lonely, my ever-present, free-of-cost therapist.

When I struggle to heal my wounds through speaking out loud,

I bleed on paper.

Yesterday, I joined Substack after AGES of brooding over it and doubting whether anyone will ever enjoy reading what I write. Then, I thought back to my younger self. She didn’t care who read her stories, or what they thought about them. She was doing it for her. And it’s about time I learn something from that girl.

DO IT BECAUSE YOU WANT TO!

Sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if my dad hadn’t brought home the diary. Would I still be a writer? I like to think I would. Writing is the missing piece of my puzzle. It would have found me, one way or another.

I’m staring at the diary right now. The yellowed, and worn pages remind me that every writer begins somewhere.

I began with a vocabulary list.

Signing out,

elsewheregirl xx