Protesting: IPV, Men, Lies


Today I was at the protest. I was praying for that girl’s soul, her bravery for coming out about being raped and abused and dehumanized by the son of one of our MPs.

I clapped when your name was called, thinking you were the Albanian Dr. Ford, almost hoping this would open the same conversation for us. #MeToo, her too, so many of us TOO.

MP’s son was in jail too, so many of us on the right side of history! I was there, overwhelmed by positive feelings I didn’t put into words, and by negative feelings that I did:

  • Your performative allyship makes me SICK. You get out there and try to take the perfect picture of your palm, where you’ve written I AM HER, thinking that will be enough.
  • You get out there to speak on behalf of our country, but unlike all the women in front of you, Kanavaugh-style you scream, you yell, you throw a tantrum. No, you don’t represent us. We won’t accommodate you. When you get off stage, you’re not that angry at all. This is all for show, and it’s painfully obvious when you pay just a bit attention.
  • You just smile and laugh. Is this funny to you?
  • You say “You might think we’re here to protest violence against women. No, this is political.”
  • You’re here as one of the hundreds of cameraMEN, you’re just doing your job, unclear as to why you’re here or why this is needed, you tell your (female) friends oh yeah violence against women, hah, all women need, is some dick, your female friends giggle, say you said it, we didn’t. They want to protest their rights, but not that much that they’re seen as Angry Feminists. So they agree with you, losing yet another tiny battle. You carry on, playing poker on your phone, smug face and all- you sure showed them. Mansplaining gender-based violence is one of your all-time favorite activities.
  • A woman says was this is it? she can’t wait for it to be over. She’s never been ~oppressed~, she can’t understand what the fuss is about.
  • Someone says wow, look at that woman, she’s SO pregnant, look at her, another says to a couple why have you brought your baby here?!

So many people seem to not understand and yet, they’re here. Unknowingly, unwillingly, cluelessly. And this is how you stay stagnant, moj Shqipni e mjera Shqipni.

Update: She denied everything. I’m too angry, too hurt, too heartbroken to talk more about it. So here’s a tweet.


sign with quote

Why Am I Like this- (Not) Saying No

Food for thought

Sometimes, you struggle with writing ideas, sometimes the stories present themselves just as you’re about to sit down and write.

Today, I don’t want to talk about how I can’t seem to say NO to people I don’t know.
My worst nightmare consists of me being rude to others (now that I think about it I saw a bunch of terrible creatures in my dream last night, they wouldn’t stop showing up all over the place, and I wasn’t worried at all, but they probably were ~the stuff nightmares are made of~). A nightmare could be me being rude to those creatures.
Anyway, kinda proud of dream me, she handled it so well, 0 freaking out, maximum efficiency who is sheee. Imagine having to explain Internet humor like who is sheee to people, that’d create the ultimate fictional nightmare.
As I was saying, I hate unnecessary rudeness (like it’s ever a necessity, but you know).
However, now I’m at a place I didn’t want to be because I couldn’t just say nah I’m good. I don’t mean that metaphorically.
I wanted to get some work done by the beach, looking at the waves, a light breeze on my hair…
Now I’m at this basement bar, sort of, hearing the people who work here trying to prove who’s the least dumb thus more deserving of my attention, WiFi isn’t even working so can’t get much work done and now I’m complaining about something that is my fault. I couldn’t stay outside because there’s no cord outlet for my uncharged PC, and I could’ve easily gone to one of the 50 other bars close by that have outlets outside. But no. The waiter said you can stay inside, stay inside, inside, there’s a cord outlet inside.
I hesitated for a second, then he reiterated, inside. I was defeated.
Can’t wait to tell my friends, who will roast me about it for days. I can already hear it “you tell us NO all the fucking time and you can’t tell a guy you’ve never and will never see again you don’t want to sit there?”
They roasted me last time we were at the beach for a similar occurrence. I had some stomach issues and my mum, despite being miles away, convinced me to get some medication. The one we always get for stomach issues. After walking for so long, I finally found a pharmacy. I only needed that kind of medication, I knew the name and the quantity and felt assured I’d be fine afterward, as I always do.
I got out of the pharmacy pissed, and with a shitload of pills and whatnot with me, despite saying NO, I don’t need that! Or that! very clearly, several times. She just kept insisting yes, you do, this went on for about 2 minutes until I caved in.
I know, I’m weak, and natural selection will take care of me sooner rather than later.
I’m sure a lot of people have done plenty of research on the matter and written amazing books and articles on how to fucking deal. It’s definitely not a serious issue at all at the moment for me to be legitimately worried, and I have faith I’ll figure it out with no outside help. If anything, it’s funny.
Growing up, I was on the opposite side of the kindness spectrum. Maybe I’m making up for old times with the extra YES-es?
I like to think of it that way. As anything, it’s a journey.
Since I’d feel bad for making you read 600 words (so far) without offering any sort of CTA/resolution besides it be like that sometimes, here it is, the secret to success. Not clickbait.
Thanks for reading!
Journal on a bus

Falling in Love Every Day


“Don’t take it personally.” Maybe someone hexed me, but last time I took something personally (from people I don’t know that well) was 12 years ago. Whoever hexed me, thank you. Or is it you, FBI man, who allowed me to see clearly by what you chose to show me and what you didn’t? Do I have you to thank? My voodoo doll being treated way too well by whoever controls her?

Okay, maybe it’s not a double-digit number since, but definitely a long time since I gave a fuck about someone being snarky or petty. The more I grow, the more I see such displays as cries for help. Sometimes I get involved, sometimes I steer clear. Hurt people hurt people, and I no longer consider myself selfish for putting myself first. I don’t even consider selfish a bad word, fight me. As my newest obsession Young M.A said, I’m selfish, no question.

What else, what else?

To All The People I’ve Loved Until I Got Off The Bus

I don’t usually take the bus that often because I absolutely love walking, but when I do it’s guaranteed I’ll fall in love with someone during the ride. I create all these scenarios in my head, what they’re like, what they’re going to do once they get home, what makes them smile, their favorite movie, how we’d have such a great time together. Then, I never think of them again. Ah, the joys of platonic love. Now that I think about it, I fall in love when I’m walking too. All the time, I’m falling in and out of love.

I wasn’t trying to create a correlation, but maybe that’s why I can afford the luxury to not take things personally. I know there’s always more just around the corner: people, possibilities, smiles, love. No one’s that irreplaceable, that important as to constantly ruin your mood/day because *they* are in pain and lashing out wherever they get the chance.

I’ll close with two quotes I found recently, that I love. They’re from Naval Ravikant, AngelList founder, spiritual mentor to thousands and overall extremely inspiring figure.

The older the problem, the older the solution. 

A fit body, a calm mind, a house full of love. These things cannot be bought- they must be earned.”

Thanks for reading, D.




Just Shut Up (Not Like That)


Bad writing is written defensively; good writing is a way of making the self as vulnerable as possible. – Toby Litt

I mostly love art for making us realize others have felt our feelings and thought our thoughts, and the illusion of separation is just that: an illusion. We’re not alone. We’re surrounded by people, a lot of who make the thought of being away from humanity look extra sweet and desirable. We’re bombarded with information, most of it makes us want to stick a fork in our eyeballs and hope we die from bleeding. I never feel as powerless as when I watch the news. 

There are good and bad people like there’s information that makes you feel good and information that makes you feel baaaaaaaaaaad, like there’s good art and bad art.

Oscar Wilde said bad art is worse than no art and I don’t agree with him. Maybe he’s twisting and turning in his grave, thinking: I meant you. You represent all that is bad in the art world. I’ll be damned if I let a dead white man who thought laziness was a virtue tell me shit about life or art, though.

Now, what metaphor was I trying to make?

Ah yes. That the good people and the good information (I just mean writing and some extremely powerful, beautiful stories told via design/video I’ve come across lately, ah, and cool studies, but only when their findings match my opinions and worldview, otherwise… good luck Charlie) make it ALL worth it. That art lets us know we’re not alone, even when those people and that content isn’t around to help us smile, breathe, stay afloat. That the illusion of separateness is fueled by people refusing to be vulnerable, almost ruining all art and all people and all things for us. Almost, fuckers.

Consider not getting defensive next time. Yes, I know I just called you a fucker, I meant it lovingly, but that’s besides the point, who caressss? We definitely think others pay way more attention to us (and our negative aspects) than they do. Ain’t nobody got time for that! Consider letting it all show and flow and go. Wow Drake should’ve hired me for his verses. Is it Drake who said I’m just saying you could do better?

I think you could. We all could make the world a nicer, more livable, even (who’d have thought!) truly enjoyable place. Try vulnerability next time. Maybe it’s not your thing and you are actually born to be bitter all your life (nah), but please give it a try. A half-assed try. Something.

Plenty of mistakes? It’s fiiiine. People thinking your vulnerability is a sign of weakness? It’s fiiiiiine. Most people respect vulnerability and people saying what they want/need upfront, but some are too scared living behind walls to appreciate others who are comfortable enough to speak their mind. That’s not your problem. It’s fineeee! Getting to really know yourself is a long, tiring, painful process, but oh so worth it.

I’m just saying, you could* do better

You can*.

I’ll try anything once, twice if I like it

I sure hope you road work ahead? i sure hope it does vines hold my life together did i not mention do.

Favorite Songs Lately (& Sex Appeal Because Why Not)

A penny for your thoughts

I’m only human, after alllll! Look, one day I will have amazing time management skills, and write these in the early hours of the day, preferably watching the sunrise, with a cup of coffee nearby (I’d say a cup of coffee on my hand, but it would be sort of hard to write with one on my hand all the time. It’s doable for sure, but a challenge. Plus, what hand would I be using to hold the mug? Would saying a cup of coffee on my hand imply I had to burn my hand as I held it, unable to put it down because I’d already envisioned this ideal self with impeccable time management skills and she had a cup of coffee in her hand and it was too late now anyway? Definitely doable, but I’m just saying.) After just having completed a kickass meditation session too. I know what you’re thinking, all those books she’s read, all those words she’s written, kickass was the best she could do to describe a good meditation session?

You know what they say at Facebook HQ: Done is better than perfect.

Continuing the things no fucking one can ever take from you theme..

I touched a bit here on how music has been affecting me lately, making every moment more magical in strange, intimate ways. And this time no cognitive laziness either, magical was just the word I was looking for.

Here are some of my recently favorited songs on my Deezer

  • Make the song so sweet 

You gon’ come home with me, oh


  • Pitch black frames, you can see me when I wear my lenses
    And all they say is how I’m fake and I don’t get offended

  • I’ve never wanted wealth untold, my life has one design

A simple little band of gold, to prove that you are mine

Very fond of this, found in a Mad Men playlist during an important, lovely period


  • And do you still think love is a Laserquest, or do you take it all more seriously

And do you look into the mirror to remind yourself you’re there/ or have somebody’s good-night kisses got that covered


  • Quiere que lo hagamos en diferentes partes, pero estoy cansada de desilusiones
    No quiero saber de un rompecorazones


I love this song so much I’ve listened to it at least 2 times, a day every day for the past 2 weeks, I love OUUUUU too (didn’t feel like googling how many U-s it actually has, pardon). I want to close with a question tho. I understand that everyone has different preferences and everyone’s entitled to their own opinions, especially regarding what we consider attractive. I’m not saying Young M.A isn’t attractive (or that he is), but all of you who have been saying he has most sex appeal than all these rappers/dudes, ARE YOU OKAY?

UPDATE 2 SECONDS LATER: YOUNG M.A IS A WOMAN?!?!?!? I feel bad for assuming. A GAY woman too, who wrote and directed a short film for Pornhub? New York’s youngest, most charismatic rapper? What a plot twist!

Update 2: I kinda see it now. Definitely just being a woman makes you 100x more attractive (to me at least). I’ll check the IG again.

Final update: Hot the way Michael Phelps was hot, ONLY when he was in the pool and had just won a race (he had 0 sex appeal don’t get me wrong)- when she raps, she’s hot AF, otherwise… As for the sex appeal thing, yeah, it’s a yes from me.

I also really like this song and this song, But I’ll always take my time with youuuuuuuuuuuuuuhuhuhu. May God take the time with me and forgive me for assuming Young M.A’s gender, not noticing all that BDE couldn’t be coming from a man, STILL (and probably forever) thinking BDE  is the most reliable metric ever, and for all those times I didn’t speak up for my cause against people who feel morally superior to others because of the songs they listen to. Thanks!


Photo by Evan Kirby on Unsplash

What The Water Gave Me

Food for thought

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea. – Isak Dinesen

Always considered water home. Simply, strangely, truly, home. I’ve laughed, cried, screamed, meditated even, in the water. All these ideas, decisions, stories, people, all water.

All the water in the world can’t sink a ship unless it gets inside. – Goi Nasu

I came across both of those quotes almost a decade ago now, wrote them on the wall by my bed as a “reminder” (edgy). Fun fact: The first time I got my hand on wifi+a color printer I printed out (and put on the wall by my bed, bien sur) 2 photos of:

  1. The Pussycat Dolls, pink background, and
  2. Either Rihanna or Paris Hilton, I can’t remember for the life of me.

Another fun fact: my email was delfinafrompcd, as in from The Pussycat Dolls. Gold times. Another one: Maybe every other day, I used to call and talk to the host of this radio show and my “stage” name was Paris Hilton, I was ~11 lmao. However I’m fucking obsessed with Rihanna still, maybe more than ever, so I guess she wins the bed shrine games.

What I was trying to say is that those water-related quotes are the only ones I remember, despite having hundreds on the wall. Surely, part of the reason is that the other ones were emo-phase inspired and my brain would crash just by trying to remember, let alone make sense of them. However, I remember the water-related ones because water has been a constant in my life for as long as I can remember.

Drowning (80% sure this is a fabricated memory), my brother becoming a pro swimmer, me being a swimmer, family business related to swimming, so many narratives influenced and shaped by…water.

Lay me down
Let the only sound
Be the overflow

I never gave much thought to how deeply connected to the sea I was and have been all my life, until recently. This relationship is so close to my heart, so precious and valuable to me, a neverending source of unconditional love. Harmony. Purity. Unity. Oneness.


Wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, and I will never have to be confronted with that choice. No one can take it away from me, and that’s the most liberating feeling in the world.

I stopped writing because I was scared of what the wrong people were getting or could get from it.

Fear. That will be my official answer from now on as to why I stopped writing, after having written every day for ~2 months and loving every aspect of it.

Water. Official answer as to why I’m back.

Unofficial answers: Because it was about time. Because I’m healed. Because the fear isn’t real, some things, no one can EVER take from you.

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough -Meister Eckhart

The beach is a wise friend, a therapist, a healer, a truth-er. It’s my gut instinct, my guide, my reflection. It’s shown me the way so many times I can’t begin to count, and words will never be enough to express my gratitude.

Let’s start with this: THANK YOU. I’m here, I’m back, I’m good.

I Don’t Care That He Died

A penny for your thoughts, Feminism

I’ll go ahead and say it: I don’t care that XXXtenacion died. I don’t care that you broke your elbow. I don’t care about him enough to know his art name correctly, or to bother to google it. I care about the numerous people he abused and tried to violently kill, even though I don’t know who they are and I’ll probably never meet them in person. I care about them enough, as I do for all the survivors in my life, to not hear his music or support him. In such a materialistic, uncertain world, something is certain: what we choose to give our money to, matters. You might be just a dollar sign to those companies, but every dollar sign matters.

Finn Hackshaw


Food for thought

Be cautious. I tried to pay attention, but attention paid me. Pay attention for just a few more seconds or words, who knows what you’ll see or what pattern you’ll notice, that you otherwise wouldn’t have.

Try harder. Personal struggle. I either don’t do enough or go overboard.

Accountability is a powerful tool that helps you reach your goals. Use it as such. Deliberately. Often.

The power of new beginnings is such a tool as well: new day, new week, new notebook, new haircut? Use the little things in your favor, see how quickly they add up.

Finding the problem is the hardest part.”

Ask better questions, find the mistake, fix it as quickly and beautifully and mindfully as you can, make better mistakes, repeat.

Clem Onojeghuo

Fuck Your Brutal Honesty


Brutal honesty. I always advocate for honesty, and how it’s the best policy. That as long as you’re being respectful, you can do no wrong, no matter how hurtful the thing you’re saying is. However, I don’t think we need to be brutal. Brutality isn’t one of the words that should go hand in hand with honesty or police for that matter.

You can get your point across, truthfully, without being trash about it.

You can be a decent person and show respect, even though you may not like the other person.

You can say “yes” or “no” in a non-demeaning way.

You can tell someone how you feel without hurting their feelings.

You can pause before you speak. Even just a second should be enough reflection time and it will make a difference.

Ask yourself, is this adding to the discussion? Can you say it more clearly, interestingly, humanely?

Keep your brutality, it’s neither needed nor wanted.

P.S. And whoever convinced the world that brutal honesty is a cute personality trait… If I’m being brutally honest, there’s a special place in hell for you.

Priscilla Du Preez

Heartfelt Conversations


Throughout my life, I’ve been blessed with amazing conversations. It’s sort of a constant happening that I’m no longer surprised by, always humbled from.

Good experiences, bad experiences, neutral ones. It was all talked thoroughly with my closest people who always had the most heartfelt, valuable insights to share.

This day, I had another great conversation that lasted for hours. I felt overwhelmed by the generosity of the other people present: how they share their thoughts, time, heart, laughs, cries, heartbreaks, and victories.