Sheer fear.

They say the sky is the limit.

What if it is?

What if it is not?

Imagine the Universe as your dreams and aspirations in life, your capabilities, your potentials, your hopes….

Now, imagine the Earth as reality filled with expectations, bills, relationships, debts, work, university and the list goes on…

What is it that separates these two concepts?

You’ve imagined what is beyond and what is below, how about what is inbetween?

The atmospheric fear.

A subtle, invisible layer over the realities of how we live and divides us from how we truly hope to live.

You can’t see it, but you sure can feel it.

Is that why they say the sky is the limit, because we are too afraid to venture through this layer that protects us from the unkown?

Or maybe,

our perception to rise past the skies, stems on the fear of the fall from failure,

that burns and breaks us down into nothingness back to Earth.

better yet, let us all just embrace existance.

If the sky is your limit, let it be your limit.

But if your rise surpasses the sky, do not let the atmosphere limit your perceptions of your abilities.

Fly high,

Float for a while,

Fear with a smile


Fight as you trial.

Is awareness really being spread?

I report to you Live at the early hours of Wednesday morning, just to spread your awareness on what I am currently doing. Are you aware enough? Or do you require more spreading? (I mean that in the most appropriate way possible).

I guess what prompted me to discuss this topic, is the idea of “spreading awareness” on certain issues that are surfacing among the feeds on which most feast on.

What is it that makes users nowadays spread awareness?

What is the benefit of spreading awareness?

Especially on particular topics that are beyond personal power or knowledge.

Here she goes again being all insensitive…..

But am I?

I don’t want to seem like I am attacking what appears to be a good deed for those who are genuinely trying to help, kudos to these guys.

All I am expressing, is if you are truly invested in “spreading awareness” why stop at one post?

why stop spreading awareness when the news headlines change to the greener grass on the other side.

Or better yet,

why stop at an alcoholic beverage in hand from the weekend, dressed to match just how FABULOUS the weekend was…. I see, that awareness most definitely has spread now.

Political, Environmental, Economical, Poverty etc. issues NEVER stop.

But hey I guess it must stop when it suits you, right?

Now I am not trying to say we should turn our backs on these issues just because we can’t change them, but we simply need to educate ourselves on what we are truly advocating for.

I personally definitely would like to educate myself in these matters, but in true fact, there is not enough time in the world to understand each and every single issue that this world faces.

While there is war, there is also poverty.

While there is economical crashes, there is also abuse.

While there is environmental crisis, there is also murder.

To whichever issue you advocate for, educate yourself before you dive impulsively.

There is many more ways we can spread awareness, not just through a mobile device.

But through our actions every single day,

with the people who surround us

and through the way we project ourselves.

To appear aware is one thing,

But to BE aware is another.

Subtle Debts Pt.1

Since I’ve been a young girl, I enjoyed the idea of helping people, precisely in the medical field.

I have always enjoyed caring for others and providing my compassion to those who needed it the most, as of today that still stands. I’d love to pursue my career in health and continue to help those in need.

Before I realised that empathy was hard to come by, I never failed to exert an abundance of love and care for those around me hence the idealistic passion to connect this skill within the health field.

But what if I told you, that passion may potentially pave a conditioned debt not only emotionally but financially?

Let me take you back to the year of 2017 where my hopes and dreams of living the Melbourne University student life and studying Medicine to become a Doctor (yeah right) suddenly crumbled. Due to the obvious circumstance of what we call LIFE.

I was in Year 12 and freshly 18 after my birthday in April. My father, a very level headed man, often wanted me to be realistic in my dreams and encouraged me even if I didn’t understand my own abilities. What I deeply appreciated about him was he gave me the option to fulfill this dream and provided me with the tools (and tough love) to push me in the direction I desired. Although deep down he observed my bad habits and already predicted in my downfall. Now that may be a sense of discouragement, but my father lived and grew up with a doctor (an Anaethetist to be exact), a complete contrast between the two, as my father is a Wizard of Wood (who is quite highly respected in his factory for the hard work he inputs) and focuses more on what’s practical. Nowadays in society it is all about professions isn’t it? Where you studied, What career you’d like to pursue and blah blah blah…….

If you put both of these men in the same room, they will have obvious differences.

The first thing most people will say (this is a dig at the media) One is a Doctor and One is a Cabinet Maker. Who is more favourable in society?

Ponder on that statement for a moment and reflect on your own response.

Who would you choose?

I’ll leave that answer with you.

Because there is no right or wrong. As I said above there will be obvious differences, but the MAIN similarities of these two completely opposite professions is that they are both ESSENTIAL to living.

When you walk into a clinic, what is the first thing you expect to see or your main objective for coming in 1. Doctor 2. Your appointment 3. Your Health.

But what you don’t realise is that as soon as you walk in, the desk you check into (to argue with the receptionist that you forgot your medicare card in the car) was created and manufactured specifically for (you to argue across) you to check in. Ever understood the time and effort it takes to produce such a thing? The many involvements of external sources (such as factories and trades) in order for you to bang your fists just because you were forgetful enough to leave your medicare card in the car….. go figure.

Then once you go into your appointment you have a Doctor sitting on ANOTHER desk, (once again another set of external resources that have been timed in precision of ordering, manufacturing and dare I say measurements that also demands attention) only for you to say, “I would like a medical certificate for work today as I have a headache”.


Now you can tell me your opinion on these professions.

Health or Handyman? Both.

There is not one without the other.

Imagine a healthcare setting without the works of a tradesman? I tell you now, you’d be banging your fists at thin air instead.

I say this with all due respect, as we don’t realise how important most professions can be until they are removed. We as a society are condescending to things we often do not understand. Most of the time curate judgements based on the surface of a human being and apply labels that are utterly unnecessary.

Both men are good people in their own ways. But since we like to talk careers…

Both professions are equally difficult and will forever be in debted to the needs of society.


All I hear is sirens, in a world so violent. 04/03/22-05/03/22

Tonight I spent most of my Friday Night with one of my best friends. An eventful night it was. We spoke of many things in regards to our life, our reflections and the world itself.

The only silence we both shared was the moment we saw multiple police cars at the entrance of our close friend’s apartment building. We weren’t alarmed at first, as the Central Business District of Melbourne is usually flooded with flashing lights on the weekends, it wasn’t until we approached the crowd and saw a dead body.

Whether it was a man or woman (or any gender for that matter), it was a human being, covered with a grey blanket, surrounded by cones, tape and curious bystanders. We were one of them ofcourse, worried for our own friends that lived at that same building. We were relieved to know that they were okay and knew nothing of the incident.

As shocking as this event was, I feel guilty to say that I didn’t feel a thing.

I was worried, sure, but for my friends.

I was shocked, sure, for it to be right in front of me.

As I thought about it more, I hate to say that it almost brought me peace.

Not in a sadistic type of way, but it brought to my attention the pain and suffering of all who claim to be alive. I’m not insensitive to death, nor am I sensitive towards it.

The only form of conversation I can build around it is curiousity. Questions.

What happened?

Who was it?

Why did it happen?

When did it happen?

How did it happen?

These are the questions we ask as soon as a death arises to our attention. Why do we ask these questions too late? Why do we wait until the last straw to finally ask these questions? We don’t ask because most of us are already dead inside. We just need that final certification to declare it.

Our time on this Earth is limited. We carry burdens, grief and self pity of pains from daily life that we constantly complain and choose to allow these emotions to define us in our own lives. If that’s what a life is meant to be, then we may as well be all dead.

I saw that death in front of me as a blessing in disguise. Call me insensitive, but whoever was under that blanket, they were fighting a burden larger than they can bare to the point it consumed them whole. Whether it be their choice or not, that person is now and forever in peace. Away from the troubles they may have not been able to conquer.

But, why should we only care NOW that this person is gone? Why didn’t we care sooner to have avoided this in the first place? That’s the problem with our society.

We care too late.

Before making assumptions about this perspective, ask yourself would you have cared about this person randomly walking past you on the street? If they were to tell you of all their troubles, would you lend your hand and go out of your way to help them with your maximum 120% effort? It’s okay to say no. Because that’s who we have become, a society that is ignorant to the screams of others begging for help.

It’s subtle. It’s quiet. It’s heartbreaking.

The issue isn’t the death, the issue is our actions.

For whom that is closest to you:

don’t extend that hand too late, don’t dwell on useless issues that lasts 24 hours, don’t let negativity cloud the kindness we all keep deep inside. Before it’s too late, ask those questions now to those who mean most. You will be surprised with the responses you receive. Every single life is battling their own secret war.

Remind them you will assist them with their battles NOT against them.

Be kind and grateful for the world around you. Our time is ticking, make each moment count for your loved ones, family, friends and most of all for yourself.

Fight through the war, don’t let the war fight through you.


One of my greatest inspirations so far: Mary J. Blige.

A survivor who has been too strong for too long. I guess that’s what most of us are… sometimes we don’t realise how many things may build up to the point we fool ourselves into thinking we’re okay. Traumas of life that are suppressed in order to please those who force these matters onto us. As I learn through Mary, I keep realising my own patterns of behaviours that are triggered from a past that seems so long ago but feels close by.

When I try to make sense of these issues that trouble myself, I seem to struggle to find any conclusions. Not because there isn’t any, but because it is so complex that it becomes a twisted cycle of emotion.

An emotion that controls these fears and that’s anxiety.

It feeds into a loop of reminiscent, unnecessary pain that continues to condition the mind. This subtle symptom almost never ends until you bring awareness to yourself. The feeling creeps in on you, even on your brightest days, it lingers.

Mary J Blige is one incredible artist for this reason, she chose the path of greatness. To let her traumas become a growth opportunity in her life rather than letting these cycles depict the momentum of her life.

I hope one day we all find that strength to let go of the past that haunts our lives and imprison our minds. I’ve only just began to read her book, Real Love No Drama.

I hope this paves the beginning of the end for the many situations I’ve let condition my life, to which I hope can bring insight for you to also end the cycles you battle every day. Stay tuned….

Chapter 1: The Artist of a Generation.

Dear Dead beat,

Wednesday 23/02/22 11:48PM

Everytime we meet its always bittersweet.

Everytime we meet you are the first I want to greet.

Everytime we meet it’s always on the street.

Everytime we meet I try so hard not to fleet.

Everytime we meet you tell me to take a seat.

Everytime we meet I’m ignorant of your treat.

Everytime we meet you forgive me for staying on repeat.

Everytime we meet I struggle not to compete.

Everytime we meet I just want to hold you in discrete.

Everytime we meet I fear of your deceit.

Everytime we meet I’m sorry I keep missing your beat.


Everytime we meet nothing feels more concrete.

Everytime we meet I feel more complete.

Everytime we meet I will try to surrender to defeat.

Because you don’t deserve this mistreat.


For you, I will retreat.

One step, One brick and One second

Sometimes I dont realise, the feeling just creeps up on me as it builds and builds.

Sort of in the way that bricks are layered without the wet cement inbetween to glue it all together. You know…to keep them in place. Makes me wonder sometimes is that why the breeze can still get through, inbetween the cracks of the uneven bricks that have been stacked ontop of eachother… One brick per second, as the clock ticks, so does the layering of each brick. Have you ever heard two bricks smack against eachother, I mean, I couldn’t speak for those who are in the brick laying business, but i can certainly speak from my own experience. In my opinion it sounds so subtle. A rough click.

Almost reminds me of the ways we use to sword fight with crayons or chalk in kindergarten. Imagine clicking your fingers but your thumb was a roughed road surface and (my clicky companion finger) middle finger was the sole of your shoe as you ran. The cleanliness of a click but the roughness as your feet thrived against the road’s surface. That’s the sound I imagine when I watch these bricks stack.

One step forward, One brick laid and One second passes. 2 steps forward, 2 bricks laid and you guessed right, 2 seconds passes.

A basic single story home on average is approximately built with 8000 bricks (don’t quote me on that, it varies from each home). 8000 bricks laid, for the 8000 steps made. 8000 seconds is equivalent to 133 minutes then simplified into 2.2 hours.

Wow, that’s how long it takes for this feeling to build.

As subtle as a click and as rough as the road I used to run away.

In 2.2 hours I’m right where the builder wants me, inside this empty home.

Did I mention this is a house made of bricks? No door, no windows.

The only way in and out is through the cracks of these layered bricks.

The only air that seeps through is the dust from all the parts of the brick that can’t be tamed. I call it masked oxygen.

You panic thinking you can’t breathe, so you take in all the oxygen you can get, but all that frantic breathing instead disturbs the dust of the surfaces that are built around you. Instead of oxygen, you’re breathing in what will suffocate you the quickest. Just as you fail to grasp the air, you fall with the collapse of your chest.

You close your eyes and let go.

But then you realise, these bricks aren’t paved in position.

Instead of letting go, you push through.


I now understand and HIGHLY respect the technological world.

The amount of effort and hard work in coding, programming etc. just so we can show people what the f*ck is up (and for the real ones, the f*ck down) in our lives. We don’t realise how many different ways each click, each URL or simple Home page takes to construct. I wish I could say I wasn’t a complainer, but I most definitely am. I found it extremely comical that with creating this blog I was consistently cursing at a website-making website, then I thought you know what, I’LL WRITE ABOUT IT.

So yes, here I am, posting a written complaint on the website-making website about the website-making website 🙂

Saturday 19/02/22 10:00pm – Sunday 20/02/22 12:51am