Do you know your triggers?
I’ve learned mine the hard way — fake people.

Yes, fake people. The ones who reach sixty and still haven’t found themselves. The ones who never learned to be real, who live behind masks of perfection — pretending to be smart, beautiful, superior, or even god-like.

But here’s my truth: I don’t like fake people.
I don’t like roles, characters, or actors. I don’t like people with a thousand faces and personalities — even if they could fool the world’s top intelligence agencies.

Because no matter how perfect they look, they’re not real.
And I can’t connect with something that isn’t authentic.

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What I Learned About Being Human

In this life, I’ve learned what normal really means.
It’s not about being flawless. It’s about being human — raw, emotional, vulnerable, imperfect.

It’s the small things that make us real:
A sigh that’s a little too deep.
A hug that lingers a second too long.
A heart that skips a beat.
A cheap pair of pants and a simple blouse.

That’s what makes us authentic.
That’s what makes us alive.

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You Are a Craft — I Am Real

You might speak ten languages, have powerful friends, or hold every advantage in the world. But if you’re just a crafted personality — a product of manipulation, not soul — then you’re not real.

I’ve met enough of those. And I’ve had enough.

Because I’ve seen what it means to be authentic — beautifully imperfect and perfectly human.

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I Choose Me — The Imperfect, Real Me

Maybe people love crafted characters. I don’t.
I love authentic people, even when they’re messy.
Even when I don’t like them, I know how to feel about them — because they’re real.

That’s why I choose to be myself.
The imperfect me. The real me.

A “fat, old, stupid American nurse,” as some might say — living in a foreign country, hated for refusing to obey corrupt rules or bow to broken systems. But I am me.

And that’s enough.

People love what’s real — not the perfect illusion, not the crafted role.

So take your puppets and your masks and leave.
Because I’ve fallen in love with myself — the authentic, honest, imperfect woman I am.

And I won’t trade that for anyone’s act.

À bientôt.