Strange Passions

Being strange is my passion. Passion makes me happy. It’s not important if no one else in the entire world understands me, I will never be any different. I find anything and everything interesting and being a creative mind is brilliant and frustrating at the same time. I need and outlet, be it writing or drawing or building or singing or dancing. Here I have the chance to set free everything I write and I don’t care if I get judged for it. I do however apologise for this one, it’s extremely scattered and varied considering topics. Also some of it is continued from previous unexplainable issues. Just know that this is as close as anyone will ever get to knowing me fully.

Part of my year I live in a little flat, I work there too. My whole life for 60% of the year is completely contained in this one space. Frustration and creativity as well as boredom and happiness springs from these few walls and all of that could happen every hour. Some nights, my only escape is to go to the toilet. Even when I don’t need it, I go anyway. I sit there and pretend to pee. Just for about 5 minutes. Then I go back to working on my own nerves while doing work I actually secretly in the back of my mind love to do.

Isn’t it sad how there are so many women or couples that would love to have a baby and there are so many women not wanting that amazing little child that they have right there. Even if you don’t have the opportunity to raise the child, you don’t have the right to not want it. You made it, it’s not a mistake, it’s meant to be there, with you. It’s NOT fair! I want a wish* and I can’t have one because it’s not right for me right now.

So maybe one of the deepest reasons I want a wish* so badly is because of that inevitable, unconditional love, or maybe it’s that wish-wish* relationship that I long for. I don’t know how to have the one that I have, so my next option is to make one. Maybe in this new world where things are malleable according to the artist, maybe here we can create the things we never had, and the things we think our wishes* need. :’(

As an old lady one day, as “Rose”, I want to go out into the huge flowering garden at night, with the little garden lights on, and just dance around in circles like a child and be happy. I want a place to view the stars from. I really want to be that child-like old lady I always see in my mind.

Did you get loved enough? What’s enough?

It’s never too  late. Really. You can always try harder, you can always start again. You can always admit you are wrong and try again. IT IS NEVER TOO LATE.

Where in your life have you ever seen anything more beautiful?

May the light of the moon, shine on you.

Here I am, staring at YOU through the night air from my window. Pondering YOUR greatness while I should be studying the origins of architecture in religion. Bleh. I’d rather much study YOUR face, YOUR beauty. YOUR absolute creation which is the mind. My mind wanders into the night sky – contemplating it all, not wanting to focus on a small portion. I can’t find you, because YOU don’t exist. I don’t know who YOU are and I wish I could understand why I feel YOUR absence so deeply. I miss YOU so much that it hurts.

I’m not always sure of who I am until I do something like this, and then suddenly it’s all crystal clear that my name is Teresa, and I AM SITA

May you experience yourself as you truly are, and may you never forget you.

Being Happy

I wear yellow or buy a flower when I need the child in me to feel happy. I wear a dress when I want to feel like I’m free in the wind. I wear high heels as often as I can because it makes me feel like a pretty adult. I drink tea in a tea cup because it makes me feel like a lady. I wear makeup because I want to feel sexy. I wear a lace bra with ribbons because even though I can’t stand my naked body I love myself in underwear. I smile all the time because it makes me feel beautiful.

You can’t stop me from doing the things that I do, because without them I am not me. You might not like them, and that’s the same as not agreeing with my opinion but if you can’t handle it you can’t handle me and then you might as well leave me be.

I love it when people react to me, either because I said something stupid and it was funny or because I look nice or because I smiled at them. On the surface I don’t mind what your motives are for reacting to me. If I let you in, be careful not to be too serious – I’m very unsure when it becomes a serious question. In general, as long as I’m smiling (and sadly sometimes even after I stop) I will care about you. It’s such a cliché to say: “If you’re happy I’m happy,” and I don’t actually believe that it’s possible. Your happiness cannot be as dependant on others as you make it seem. You need to be able to be happy on your own – then you will truly understand what happiness is.

Everyone finds it in their own way and everyone celebrates it independently. I might love getting dirty in the mud and rain and acting like a child but you might prefer a huge chocolate and wine. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know your methods and I don’t intend to even find out what they are because it has nothing to do with me. Being happy is one of the most intimate experiences you can have with yourself.


Here, let me show you what I do to be happy...

It wasn’t a subtle hint at all...

Yes there is no better feeling than crying and letting it all out. It’s true that Love and finally getting to pee after holding it in for a while are great feelings, but seriously – If you cry because you’re just that happy you know it’s true… Maybe that’s why people cry at their wedding or when people die. It’s the reason a child cries when they get hurt, why teenagers cry in a romantic movie (boys don’t admit it but they feel it too sometimes). It’s why an adult cries when they are alone or when they realise someone did notice what was important to them. It’s that moment of realisation that what you are feeling is immense and without a doubt exactly what you are feeling.

Imagine we didn’t have bad moments, do you think we wouldn’t need to cry ever again? Wrong.

I can’t express the amount of good it does you to cry. I have no proof and no other stories to back up my theory except my very own experiences. The way I know it, is that when you’ve cried your face feels tight and your eyes feel so much bigger than normal. The next day, depending on how much you’ve cried, your eyes will be whiter. I cry often and not in a depressed kind of way and I can guarantee it’s why my eyes are as white as they are today. Maybe if I explain it this way it will make more sense. In the same way that a filter collects pieces of dirt passing through water, when we cry we are filtering all our emotions and feelings and sorting them into their respective appropriate places.

On a completely different note:

I seldom take the time to do something that is important to me and actually finish it. But recently I met someone who without even knowing it made me feel very inspired to try again – and I did. I did a few things that helped me feel better, but it didn’t go too far, somehow the inspiration wasn’t enough. Then a mere few days ago I met someone (old)* again, but this time it wasn’t a subtle hint at inspiration. No, this time it came silently but quickly into my mind without ever informing my heart, and started doing things that I’d always wanted to do. Now my heart is caught up in it too and I hope I won’t let go of it soon. This feeling I have, objectively and subjectively, makes me feel like me again. This is who I am and who I want to be and I want to start here. This is no longer a dream but a reality and from this moment I will focus on all of it simultaneously because that is just how it works in my mind.

If you are ready for it, then you could take this intriguing journey with me and I promise the things you will find will be the most intimate version of me available. For in the way that I write and put my thoughts into something I care about is the most “me” I can be.

This is me

I am who I am.

My name is Teresa Zywotkiewicz.

I am Sita