July 4, 2025

For my first diary entry, I decided to share a wierd dream I had last night. For context, I'm a huge miraculous ladybug fan, and in this particular dream I, for some still unknown reason, was trying to become Rena Rouge. But I wasn't myself, I actually was an old man at the doctor's, having a check up. He was really desperate to transform himself and go help ladybug. However, all rooms were full of people, so he had no place to hide and protect his secret identity. Poor guy, honestly.

The thing is that in none of my dreams I have control of what happens, so I usually struggle a lot. And this man? Jesus, he was suffering. Finally, he found an empty restroom and was able to do his duty. Even in dreams being a superhero is though.

July 30, 2025

I want to be more. Albeit, I'm so much more already. I'm so much that my parts overflow the containers that I try to put myself in. And the more I attempt to fit in, the more of these parts I lose. I want to be and to keep. Maybe willing let go, instead of losing. I want to be cherished, heard, loved, cared for. I want to be strong, enchanting, admirable and inspiring. I want to be kind. I want to be an artist, a dancer, a writer, a friend, a creator. I want to be the muse, and at the same time, the appreciator of her. There's so much want that barely leaves space for something else. I am want.

August 5, 2025

I'm not a Harry Potter fan, but I find many things about it's magical system cool. For example, the potions like Veritaserum and spells like Apparition and Extension Charms. Even though, most of them are derivated from latin, so once you understand the low effort behind it, it's just okay. However, who am I to judge at the end so...

Something that had always intrigued me it was the moving and speaking portraits, and based on my scarce knowledge apparently you can charms normal photos so they can move as well. I was counting and in my living room there is currently 16 picture frames and I started to wonder the caos that would be if they moved. Nine of them are me alone because my mom loves me very much. They are pictures of my childhood. There are photos of when I was one, three, five, six, nine, fifteen. Others are harder to know or to guess. They are all me but different. What a strange warm feeling that brings.