Another day, another shooting in the USA. I know, I know. I'm usually not this serious. But bear with me guys, because these things need to be said. It's like we can't go a single day without seeing a (usually black) person get shot, oftne by the police. Many people are outraged and have taken to Twitter. Every other day a new hashtag related to this topic is trending. Even though I usually stay far away from discussing this topic, I'm going to do it today. Not by tweeting. I agree that we need t pay more attention to these matters, yet I won't tweet about this. I have too much to say for a 140 characters' tweet. Let me say those things here.


You won't see me tweet how bad I feel about a shooting in the USA for the same reason that I don't tweet #RIP when a famous person dies: I do not know enough about the circumstances, neither am I close enough to this person to send a truly sincere tweet.
Let's just take a look at the average police shooting: do we know exactly what happened? More or less. There are always a lot of things we don't know: why was this person stopped by the police? How did tthey respond to this? How did the police respond to their response? Was there any reason to pull a gun in the first place? About a week after the shooting we will know these things. But in the moment when Twitter explodes, we don't know all the facts and without all the facts I can't share an objective opinion. For example: a while ago a black man was shot by the police in the Netherlands. People shouted that the police was racist, but as it turned out, the man wanted to commit suicide this way. He'd forced the police into shooting him. I was glad I hadn't tweeted the minute I heard about this case. I want to know the facts before I shout my opinion from the digital rooftops. As long as I haven't seen the big picture, I won't tweet about it.

Black lives matter. I don't understand how anyone can think differently. I certainly don't understand why western countries think they have the right to meddle with other countries affairs' when they can't resolve their own problems with racism. We should be in a situation where all life is equally important.

Hold your horses, all you Social Justice Warriors out there! Let me explain.
Up until a week ago, I hadn't heard of this hashtag. Since it's only a hashtag and there's no room for explanations in a tweet, the hashtag is open to interpretation. I interpreted it this way: no matter what your skin color is, your life is valuable and should be respected by everyone, no matter what their skin color is. To me, this meant that we are in a situation where black lives sadly have less worth to some people than white lives. To me, this meant we need to find a way to make it clear that all lives are important, regardless of the package it comes in. To me, this was a hashtag that asked us to look at the injustice of the situation towards black people, find a way to fix it and get closer to equality, to a situation where a black life matters the way it's supposed to matter. I interpreted as: all lives matter, so why does this black life matter less to some people? It's a question of interpretation. Then I found out that this was not what the hashtag meant...
People abuse this message I had in mind and turn it into a way of saying: "Stop nagging, others get shot too." It stands for a completely different message than the one I believe in, the one I saw in it. People interpret it differently than I do. It leads to miscommunication and anger. The message I had in mind apparently fits #BlackLivesMatter better, though #AllLivesMatter sounded more logical to spread a message of equality, at least in my opinion. I will never use the latter hashtag. In fact, I want to use neither of these hashtags now. I just want to show you my point of view: it doesn't matter to me which color you skin has; black, brown, yellow, white, if you wanna dye yourself green or purple, fine by me. That shouldn't matter. Your life is valuable and precious and you deserve to live it in peace with the same chances and challenges as everybody else on this planet, regardless of your skin color.

I won't use hashtags when sharing my opinion on these matters, I won't retweet things to make my point. I'll make it by being kind to whoever crosses my path. I hope you do the same.

Stay Awesome!

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but some words will always keep hurting. I will always take them with me, wear them like invisible scars. But just because they're invisible, it doesn't mean they're not here. They're a big part of me, a part people don't know and understand. So for once I'll show you my scars and explain the world how I got them. I'm not doing this to see people tell me I'm none of the things I've been called in the past, no, I just want the world to see how much damage words can do.

Let me start with the oldest scar. The one right at the start of this post. I got it from a teacher in 6th grade.
You know that one kid in class who knows the answer to every question? The Hermione? That used to be me. I raised my hand at every question, corrected my teachers when they were wrong and spent most of my time daydreaming because I finished all my work so quickly. My teachers didn't like that.
One day though, our math book gave an unclear instruction and I couldn't figure out what to do. When I asked my teacher for help, she saw her chance and grabbed it.
"Now you're not so smart anymore, are you? Where's your big mouth now?" she ranted in front of the whole class. "Don't think you're smart. You always think you're oh so smart, but you're not! You're worthless!"
My classmates laughed as I looked down in shame, tears streaming down my face. The words hurt me and the one that hurts me most stuck to my skin. I't been eight years, but I can still see this scar clear as day. The sad thing is that it wasn't the only scar I was given by a 6th grade teacher.

There were only a few days left of 6th grade when I got this one. Out of nowhere, my teacher decided to bring me down after I'd given the correct answer to a question.
"Envy, you're such a know-it-all. It's extremely annoying. If you go on like this, you'll never have any friends. All teachers will hate a know-it-all like you."
Again my classmates laughed as I cried with frustration. I took the hits and blows, knowing I'd be out of that school soon. But the scars stayed, as ugly reminders of my days in 6th grade hell.

I hoped I wouldn't add any new scars to my collection once I entered high school, but after one look at my face, my new classmates decided I was ugly. Everyone knows that ugly girls should be bullied, so that's exactly what my classmates did. My mentor knew about it, but didn't do anything to help me, because 'the other kids are right, Envy is ugly'.
You'll never forget that feeling of knowing that everyone around you thinks you're ugly. You get insulted and mocked, even your friends take part in it. And over time, the insults become more and more creative, more and more hurtful.
"Damn, your nose is so huge!"
"Your eyebrows make you look like an orangutan!"
"If an orc had a miscarriage that'd somehow live and grow up, it'd look just like you!"
At some point you can't shake it off anymore. It's like the insults get etched into your skin, deeper and deeper. The insult I heard most was this single simple word. Ugly. My other invisible scars might disappear one day, years from now maybe. This one never will.


The last scar I'll show isn't as old as the others. I got it recently, in September 2015. Meghan Trainor had kickstarted skinny shaming just a couple months earlier and so one of my oldest friends thought it was okay to call me "anorexic". This one hurt terribly, not just because the blow came from a friend I'd seen as the sister I'd never had, but also because I'd lost weight because I'd been sick for a couple of days. It was weight I didn't want to lose and when my friend pointed out that guys don't like girls my size and that I looked like I had anorexia, I broke down. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Now that I've shown my scars, I don't know what to do. I feel vulnerable and weak. Hurt and, to be honest, quite ugly and worthless. But my scars are part of who I am, they made me this person I am today. I hope you can respect that. I hope  you can understand how they have affected the way I look at and think about myself. But most of all I hope you'll be kind to others and never scar them the way I've been scarred.

Stay Awesome!

Last spring my feelings were hurt. Not just a little, they were badly hurt. It doesn't happen every day that the guy you like loses his cool and tells you to die in a plane crash.
At first I was hurt. Just that, hurt. Later on I was angry, sad, bitter, then hurt again. I was hurt so badly that I decided not to have feelings for a guy ever again.

I was very busy at the time. In fact I was so busy with college that the decision to stop having feelings wasn't a conscious one. Subconsciously I scolded myself every time I looked at a good-looking guy. I was not going to get hurt again, oh no.
By the time summer came around, I'd successfully gotten rid of those kinds of feelings. I poured my left-over feelings for my crush into friendships. Everything was okay. I felt hope, excitement, sadness, anger and happiness. Just no love.

As my sophomore year started, I got some exciting news: my friend was moving to San Francisco and I could come over and visit her in the summer. I spent almost all my childhood summers in the Bay Area, so I couldn't wait to buy a ticket and jump on a plane. Three weeks later my friend and I got into a huge fight and my plans were cancelled. I was broken-hearted, but not for long.
With my summer plans cancelled, I had time for a summer program and my college happened to be setting one up. In India. I applied immediately and got a place in the program. You can't imagine how happy I was: this program meant that I could travel on my own, meet a friend in Delhi and celebrate my birthday there. I was the happiest person on earth for about a month. Then the whole thing blew up in my face. The program was cancelled.
I cried for days. It hurt so bad. My hope was shattered, my excitement completely gone. I didn't want to feel like that ever again. At that moment, I got rid of my feelings of hope, excitement and happiness too.

Is it possible to eliminate all those feelings? Yes, it is. It absolutely is... And once you've done that, you won't feel a thing. Nothing.
In November my world turned grey. There was more than enough to be happy about, but I didn't see it. I didn't want to see it. If I saw it, I'd have feelings again and that never ended well for me.
Sometimes I felt a tremendous sadness. It would crush me and the smallest thing would have me crying for hours. I rarely smiled and when I did, I punished myself by drowning myself in college work.
Yet most of the time I didn't feel a thing.

One morning in December I woke up and realized I wasn't as emotionless as I though. I did feel a thing and that thing was unhappiness. Something had to change.
I signed up for the 100 Happy Days Challenge. Things got a little better. People around me noticed a change. My mentor at college decided to have a serious conversation with me to voice her concerns: she'd seen my descend towards depression, and wondered how I'd managed to get myself out of it.

Depression. That word hit home. She only said it once, but the impact it had was enormous. All those months I'd been pushing myself into depression. I'd saved myself just in time.
Depression, the word still echoes through my mind. By trying to protect myself from emotional harm, I'd put myself at serious risk for mental health problem.

If you're hurt or feel like there's no hope, it's possible to turn your feelings off like a lamp. Flick that switch. I promise you won't feel a thing. But believe me when I tell you that what comes after is not worth it. Pain is part of life. It's not a fun part, but without some downs there are no ups in life either. We'd just be flatlining.
Don't turn your feelings off. Don't do what I did. You're stronger than you think. You can handle this. You'll come back stronger. It might hurt now, but it won't keep hurting forever. You've got this.

Stay Awesome!