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“What is it?”, she says.

I`m sitting at the couch. The black couch. It`s not my first time here, yet it feels like it`s the first time. Everything has changed.

I`m looking down at hands. That`s the easiest thing to do. I didn`t know my nails look so weird. I tell myself to paint them red when I get home.

“I`m asking you something – what is it?”


There`s a lot I want to say, but I don`t want to. I guess the saddest thing is that sometimes it easier to say nothing. Not everyone knows how to fix something that`s broken anyways, so what`s the point.

“How am I supposed to know when you`re not telling me anything?”

As if you`re supposed to know anything, I think to myself. I don`t say anything. Of course I don`t. I trusted you once, I`m not trusting you again. I shared my secrets with you. Nobody knew them, but you weren`t nobody so I shared them with you. With fear and hope dancing with each other, I shared them. And oh, dear. I regret it too much.

“Don`t you trust me?”

“Would you trust someone who`ve broken your trust once?

I can tell my words hit her. Hard. She doesn`t know what to say. That`s what I wanted.

“I`ll tell you absolutely everything, I`ll share my secrets with you all over again only if you are able to break a plate and put it back together to exactly what it was. I don`t care how you do it, as long as it goes back to the way it was before. ”

She`s staring at her nails. Now it`s her time to study her nails. They look far better than mine, by the way.

“Do you get it now?”

//photo: mikuta.nu



♥ You`ll never be able to please everyone. Doesn`t matter what you do, doesn`t matter who you are. Pleasing everyone is a mission you`ll never be able to complete. You could be the nicest person on earth and someone would still criticize you.  You could be talking about bullying and someone would say “don`t you care about the poor children in Africa?” You get it. This doesn`t necessarily mean they have something against you personally but you still won`t be able to satisfy everyone, so you might as well just keep doing your own thing.

♥ Don`t judge someone, because you might not know their story. Most of us have perhaps their this one, but it really is so true. Just think about all the things you haven`t really told anyone, that you have been through? I`ve been thinking a lot about this lately, especially since I`ve been watching “Baaghi”. It`s a Pakistani drama serial based on a true story. Qandeel Baloch was a Pakistani social media star and she was considered a threat to the Pakistani society, because of her “bad moral and behaviour”. People were threatening her, calling her ugly names and telling to “go and die”. Not long after she was killed by her own brother. But who knew Qandeel`s story? I believe it was not up to us to judge her, but also: who actually knew her? Who knew she supported her family economically? Or the things she had to go through because of more powerful people in the show business and media? I`m glad more people have been like “I didn`t know this about Qandeel” because THAT is the point. What do we actually know about each other? It actually makes me sad – I mean, the person right in front of you could have gone through some of the most awful things ever and you couldn`t even know. Everyone has something they don`t talk about that, which I believe is important to think about.

♥ It`s not about blood – it`s about love. Enough said.

♥ Not everyone in your life will see or appreciate your kindness, but that doesn`t mean you shouldn`t be kind. Not everyone will appreciate the nice things you do or have done for them, but that doesn`t mean there`s something wrong with you.

♥ It`s important to take care of yourself, because at the end of the day you might not have anyone else by your side but you`ll always have yourself and your own head. Eat enough, drink enough water, get enough sleep. Go out for a walk and get some fresh air. Have healthy and good relations in your life that bring you up. Surround yourself with things that make you happy.

♥ Perhaps the most important one: CHILL! Everything happens for a reason.



Ever since I watched the last episode of Baaghi, my mind has pretty much been thinking about it. About how Qandeel Baloch was murdered, about how this has happened to so many and how people do certain things because of how others make them feel. I`m aware I`ve been talking quite a lot about the serial recently, but trust me – “quite a lot” isn`t enough. I knew a lot of the things the serial issued, but the way it did and the end got my mind stuck. Not only did the cast do an impressive job, but they managed to give different aspects to their characters. To all those who don`t like how they didn`t add the event with the Mufti Abdul Qavi intoto the serial – I think they didn`t do that, because the director had to act according to some guidelines. Not adding it still doesn`t miss the main point – how a woman with dreams in her eyes and wings of hope was shoot down and killed because of something called “honour”.

The show brought what happened to Qandeel much closer to me. It made me realise even more what happens in the lives of many girls. AND let`s not get me started on the OST. It`s SO amazing, I can`t even. I keep listening to it, I`m even listening to it as I`m writing this. Just can`t get over it.

Sometimes you read a book, or you watch a movie or a show which makes you feel way too many things at the same time. It makes you speechless. Or it breaks your heart. Baaghi did all those things to me and much more. Bilderesultat for mikuta red

//photo: here


but dear you, that`s just how unexplainable life is


When someone dies, life stops up. You don`t know how to breathe, you don`t know how to play, how to talk, how to eat, how to walk. It feels like you have to start all over again. At least that`s what it was like for me, when my uncle and grandmother died. I didn`t know how to live life anymore, without them in it. I was like a little kid who had just started walking, fell down and didn`t know how to stand up again. I thought “what now?” Because that`s what it feels like and perhaps that`s the only question inside your mind. What now? What do you do with that empty seat or the closet with their clothes inside it? What do you do about the words you never spit out, the hand you didn`t reach out and the things you didn`t do? And perhaps the most important question: What do you do with yourself?


Then. Months pass by One. Two. Three. Three months. And then? Years pass by. One. Two. Three. It`s been three years now. What now? Life passed by. That Friday morning we cried so much. This Tuesday morning my feet were touching the snow that barely had reached the ground. I was on my way to school. Life happened, it moved on. After Friday came Saturday and after Saturday came Sunday. If there`s one thing I`ve learned throughout my twenty years on this planet, it`s that people might leave but the clock will always be ticking. I`ve said it before and I`ll say it again: even the darkest hour has 60 minutes. We all returned back to our daily habits. Wake up, get ready, eat breakfast, catch the train, go to school, go back home, eat, read, relax, sleep. I don`t know how it happened, it just happened. I felt like nothing was ever going to be the same and while that is the case, it also feels like everything has changed.

I learned how to life, even after seeing dead bodies. I learned how to live life, without my grandmother or my uncle being a part of it. It just happened, I don`t know how. I can`t explain. Maybe it`s because like little kids, I just stood up. Maybe it`s because I kept going to school, maybe it`s because without even realising it, I learned how to breathe again. Maybe it`s because I got used to not being able to find her, after some time. Of course there will always be emptiness and nobody will ever be able to replace them, but I`ve learned to live with the pain and the tears. We human beings tend to believe we`re weak, but actually we can be very strong and we`ve been through some of the biggest flames ever and yet, here we are.Bilderesultat for mikuta los angeles

maybe I`m stronger than I think, too. 

//photos are from mikuta.nu


I`m not popular, nor do I have many friends.

As a child I didn`t really have any friends. There and then I did I have people I could hang out with, but now I`ve realised they weren`t actually my friends. None of them stayed – some “faded away”, while others abandoned me. I was little, didn`t understand as much as I do now and didn`t really stand up for myself. In high-school I had many days where I felt lonely. For a long time, I didn`t really feel like anyone tried to listen to me or saw me who I am.

But, during my second year in high-school I got to know two girls, Sara and Thea. It started with me sitting with them. Slowly we started talking more and more and during third year I visited them and they visited me. I remember I once told them “I don`t trust you, it`s going to take a while for me” and they were like “well, just know that we trust you.” Some words can mean so much to you. They didn`t go all like “oh, why don`t you trust us, don`t you consider us your friends?”. They didn`t judge me, instead they gave me time and kept being the kind human beings they are. That meant and still means so much to me. I know that I could literally do anything to them, and they would still be kind to me. Thea is still here in Norway, while Sara is in Australia. She`s going to stay there for a couple of months and of course I miss her. I think it`s easy to think you`re going to drift apart when the distance is so huge, but I know we`re going to work it out and that missing each other will do us. Besides, Thea is still here!

Some days ago, Sara messaged me. “I just want to remind you of how fantastic, strong and cool you are, and I miss you.” Those words touched my heart and made me emotional (I`m perhaps the most emotional person on this earth).

I remember how I sometimes used to think before that the pain was never going to end. It seemed like the times I was going through at that time, was a phase I had to walk through forever. Many of us feel that way – it can feel like a never ending roller-coaster. You ask yourself “why me”. At that time I didn`t understand why people were being mean to me and making fun of me either. To be honest. sometimes I even found myself thinking “am I not cool enough or beautiful enough for people?” It feels like I wasn`t  popular or fabulous enough for most people, because after all, I didn`t really have that many to hang out with.

I still don`t have that many to hang out with, but you know what? I might have few friends, but the ones I have are fantastic. That`s good enough for me, because at least I`m cool enough, beautiful enough and fabulous enough for them. And that`s all that should matter.

Bilderesultat for mikuta photography

//Photo: here


“You`re going to create a blog and you can decide what you`re going to name it.”

I was 17 and still in high-school. It was time for International English, which was a course I was doing during my last year of high-school. For one of our assignments, we were asked to start a blog. We were supposed to blog once a week, which was pretty much nothing to me. I was little when I started enjoying the gift God had given to me – the ability to write and create whatever I wanted to, through words.

“You can blog about pretty much anything you want to.

I had no idea what to name my blog. Nothing seemed good enough, because I wanted everything and nothing in the name. It had to reflect me, reflect what my blog was going to be about.

“But once a month your post should be about a specific topic we will discuss in class.”

Easy peasy. I just needed to find a proper blog name and get started.

“Do you need any help?”

I told the teacher I`m only struggling with finding a good enough name, but otherwise I was doing good. After a lot of thinking, I typed “namingmyvoice.wordpress.com”.

Less than two months later, I started writing personal posts. Some of them were full of feelings and reflections. I was exhuasted. I had enough.

“I`ll proove you all wrong. One day.”

I had just written a post about my situation at school. Once again I was feeling too much. Maybe I should of have expressed myself differently, but it was what it was.

“I have read this blog entry several times and I still do not know what to say…”

My teacher didn`t know what to say. Maybe that was a good thing.

I liked the attention. At least someone heard me. At least someone said nice things about me.

I kept writing posts about things that meant something to me. Elections, the beauty pressure in the society, bullying, loneliness – the blog quickly became a space where I could write down what I wanted to. It was my space. It was a world I could paint blue, pink or black and the decision was entirely mine. I could be creative and create a space on the internet which was mine.

While at school? I wasn`t heard, nor was I really noticed. People kept talking, I missed actions. A message to the principle didn`t take me that far.

You could say the pen became my weapon.

I sent the message I had sent to the principle to the newspaper. For the first time I was that much noticed. Likes, shares, comments. People said nice things about me. I was brave, I was fantastic, I was something. Reading the comments made me so happy.

I had always had a voice, but perhaps that was the first time I was actually able to name it.


When I made this blog, I was 17. I can`t remember what exactly I had in mind when I picked the name for this blog, but now it means more to me than it did then.

I guess I`ve always wanted to have a voice. My own voice. I`ve always wanted to create something and be heard through that. For many years I felt like nobody could actually hear me.

My voice was a voice only I could hear.

Bullying made me feel lonely, being lonely made me feel lonely and having to go through these things made it hard for me. Many times I felt like my voice didn`t matter, because some people around me made it seem like that was the case. If I explained how I felt or thought about something, I was sometimes told I was wrong. It didn`t really matter. I wanted to be heard, to be noticed and to be understood.

I wanted people to see me, not only look at me.

I feel like I`ve sort of achieved that with my blog. There`s a reason I decided to keep it, even after the assignment was over and we were told we didn`t really have to blog anymore. I wanted to, because I enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing and I liked having a voice. I liked having the opportunity to have my own space and share what I want to.

So here I am now, more than two years later. I`m 20, still growing up and getting to know life every single day. I`ve written a lot since I started this blog, which I`m proud about. I`m proud that I`ve kept writing, despite some comments I`ve received here and there. I`m glad I`ve kept naming my voice, because you know what?

Without a voice no one can hear you and I`ve realised how much impact my voice can have, but it`s even more important that you find your own voice so you can get to know how beautiful it can be. The only thing nobody else has, is you, after all.



This is a post I`ve been wanting to write for a long time, but I didn`t want to have to meet people`s questions. I still don`t want people to question it, just because. Not only because I failed an exam, but also because I haven`t really told anyone about it.

Before I joined the university last year, I was one of those people who did well at school. I had good grades, I studied quite a lot and I was focused. More focused than I was when I joined the university. It turned out to be a more difficult transition than what I first had expected – way too much syllabus and way too much independence. I didn`t really know where to even begin. In October my grandmother was admitted at the hospital and we got to know she had cancer. I spent more time at the hospital than studying. I knew I should`ve studied, but I didn`t feel like it. I guess it was hard to focus when my mind and body were somewhere else most of the time. I tried to spend as much time as possible with my grandmother at the hospital and later in the nursing home. I spent at least 3-4 days of the week with her and when she died in December I felt like I hadn`t spent enough time with her. I regretted everything I hadn`t done, instead of actually appreciating all the time we had spent together. Imagine what I would have felt like if I had spent more time at home, studying. I know I can`t blame anyone but myself for failing, of course, but it goes without saying that when a family member is admitted at the hospital and has cancer you want to spend more time with her or him. At least that`s what it was like for me. Later on we also were told that she didn`t have much time left and even though a huge part of me didn`t want to believe that, I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her.


Since I wasn`t motivated and focused, I didn`t feel ready when it was time for the exams. I could`ve and should`ve studied a lot more, but didn`t. It was hard to find a schedule that worked for me, especially during the first and second semester. When we got the results and I saw the “F” online, I felt a little too shameful and a little too much of failure. That`s what I remember. It was the kind of feeling that wrenches your body and makes you feel bad about yourself. It was just a grade and it made me feel like that. What for? Perhaps because all the time I had been a good student, and now I wasn`t anymore. Or perhaps because I felt like it was something I was told to be shameful about.

But WHAT EVEN – sometimes life happens, sometimes things don`t go according to the plans and sometimes you have to try again. Feeling that way sucked for me, and it made me realise how so many others must be feeling. The feeling of failure, the feeling of not doing enough or being enough, especially when you`ve been doing so good for a long time. It`s easy to feel alone about failing your exam, even though the statistics show that`s not true. But, you`re not alone and it`s okay if you`ve failed your exam. That doesn`t mean I recommend you to fail your exam(s) – put an effort and give 100. Sometimes, that`s not the easiest thing to do. You feel unmotivated, you`re not focused and life happens. Sometimes things don`t go your way and that`s okay – just make sure you get up and keep trying.

I re-did the subject this semester and passed, so I`m for sure not a failure. What stupid things my mind was telling me. Doesn`t matter if it was for 10 minutes or 10 hours, it`s crazy how we sometimes feel a certain way because that`s what perhaps more appropiate. I mean, after all I didn`t even tell my friends. But, a grade doesn`t define me or my future.

I still don`t feel 100 % comfortable posting this, but I don`t really understand what the big deal is. That was then, now is now and now I`ve passed. What`s past is past and after all, I`m so much more than a grade.