It’s been quiete a while since the last time I posted something — but since school is over, I’ve got plenty of time to waste blogging. So, I’m back! 


I’m Marisa. This word isn’t just a six letter combination, it’s a name, to which I belong. The name I’m so used to hearing I react directly when someone shouts: “Isa” because that just sounds like my name? To this name, belongs the person I am today. And, in fact, the person I was yesterday. And the person I was last year. And the influence my personality back then had on my personality now. Maybe you might not entirely appreciate my existence. That’s 100% okay! I don’t care, it’s okay not to like me, yet, that doesn’t give you a license to share your hatred feelings against me with me. Or with anyone in general. 

I’m not the kind of girl who wears make-up every day nor the kind of girl who cries when her painted nail breaks. I basically don’t CARE about the way my probably unbrushed hair looks. I accidently swear and curse, a lot, without really wanting to. THAT’S 100% OKAY WITH ME! 

I read Haruki Murakami’s books and mark my favourite words and sentences with my favourite yellow marker and I love language, both learning new languages and linguistics. I always cry when watching happy movies. I don’t master the English language entirely because I’m 14 years old AND I’m no native speaker. I watch anime but I don’t watch pokemon. THAT’S 100% OKAY WITH ME TOO! 

In case my personality doesn’t statisfy you and your impossible standards, again, I don’t care. You don’t have to tell me multiple times, though, because you don’t hurt people by disliking their interests, you hurt people by bullying

I don’t feel like I’m the victim of any bullying-related activities, but this, I’m, just an example. Don’t bully anyone, even though you feel like they deserve it. 

And, it’s okay not to wear mascara. It’s okay to wear mascare too, though. It’s okay to have bags under your eyes and it’s okay not to have them. It’s okay to be you, just like it’s okay to be me.

It’s okay to be yourself. But don’t be someone else. Because yourself is pretty damn awesome. It’s okay to be me, too. For me. Not for you. You’re beautiful inside and out just the way you are. Because everyone is. Okay? Things will get better.  

You can’t be pretty like me, you’re already pretty like you



See your own place through the eyes of a tourist

In order to stay happy, you should appreciate what you already have: you should, for example, see your country through the eyes of a tourist. My best friend and I spent a day trying to do this.

At first, 7:00, we went to The Woods. It was early, but it was lovely, we watched the sunset and heard the birds sing, we listened to music without using electronics, we listened to the nature and it’s sounds. It was amazing to experience the cold in this both foreign and weird way.

07:00 – An early morning in the woods


”OH MY GOD WE ARE IN AMSTERDAM!” We went to MANY touristic attractions, The Anne Frank House (Dutch: Anne Frank Huis) and we spoke English all the time so people won’t treat us as locals. It was so much fun! We went to small Dutch libraries but we didn’t go to the Dutch section, we only read the foreign books.

I hope you liked this post,





It’s one of these days between the coldness of the ancient winterdays and the fierce colours of the summer. It’s raining, but the air doesn’t feel cold if my exposed limps touch it, even though it’s been eight o’clock. My parents, my sister and I settled ourselves inside of a bar in the center of Rome. The entire cafe has been faded in mint green covered walls and white flowers which modestly stand straight in laced vases against a sephia-coloured porcelain. The pastel-coloured chairs and blood red checkered floors contrast nicely to the red roses which give every single pastry an old French atmosphere. 

The sky outside is glowing orange, like glistering sunbeams when it’s time for them to stop shining. The long and grizzled fingers of an ancient rain have stopped dropping and left a both sickly as fresh smell on my coat.

After going to this cafe, my parents decided to take me to a dark, discrete clothing shop, which was fully covered in Christmas lights and old pink wooden wannabe billboards. It was lovely and I bought this little black dress 🙂


 Rome is definetly my all time city so when I heard that we were going there again, I was literally so happy! I took many selfies and all, yet this wasn’t my main activity: I LOVED to discover new coffee bars and I guess I drank all available cappuccino’s around Rome in just two weeks.


Before we went to Rome, we went to Southern Italy, which was a lovely experience. We went to for example Pompeii and to Sorrento. I loved it over there and I had so much fun!

Sorrento was nice and so was Pompeii, but nothing competed to Rome. Rome is beautiful, with it’s grizzled streets which were once mine and it’s expensive and creme coloured houses. I loved it so much, wandering there, I couldn’t have been happier.


Letter to my best friend’s future husband


I’m going to write a letter to my best friend’s future husband today. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging her and pushing her into boxes saying the person she’s going to marry is going to be a man, but I have no idea what it’s called when it’s just a person you marry, so let’s keep it easy and stick to the whole man thing. (As far as I know, she’s not bisexual nor a lesbian, but let’s not push her into a box)

Dear, you know, um, person,

My name is Marisa. I guess that you already knew my name, but I’m not sure so I’ll introduce myself anyway. Right now, I’m thirteen years old. Thousands of disturbing red spots on my cheeks, bags under my eyes and big, fluffy eyebrows like armpit hair, yea, that’s me. I’m very pale because I never leave the house and the length of my curly hair reaches over my waist because I refuse to see a hairdresser because I’m afraid that (s)he’ll cut my hair too short, just like last time. Somehow, I’m friends with this amazing human being who’s your fiancee. I don’t get it either. We used to do everything together: swimming in ugly Dutch summer dirt which is somehow desperately considered as water, it’s not even blue, it’s brown, we went shopping countless times, yet this wasn’t our biggest hobby, we took dancing class together which was definitely NOT our biggest hobby either and we took countless ugly selfies and ruined each other’s attempts to take a formal, usual selfie.

I don’t know who you are, yet I do. I know that you’re the luckiest person on earth, being able to marry someone like Q. She’s very critical when it comes to guys, so you’re probably perfect. I hope your marriage will be lovely and you can count on me, it will be, if it isn’t I’ll make sure it will be. I probably really like you and if I don’t, I’ll keep trying. Yet, if you only ATTEMPT to break Q’s heart, I’ll verbally abuse you until there’s nothing left of  your broken face. DAMN, I’ll both verbally and mentally abuse you. I might even take  karate lessons and I’ll physically abuse you too. I can be very protective if you give me a reason to be. Love may make blind, but I’ll be able to make you blind too without even having to love you. Please give her the love she deserves, make sure to make her smile when she doesn’t know how to, be there for her when she needs someone to be there and even when she doesn’t, wipe the tears off her face when she cries, watch movies with her, spend time with her, make sure that you’ll say the right things, please don’t upset her because she deserves love just like you probably do.






What a terrible waste of life it is, to always take the easy path, to never know what it is to risk everything for what you love

Beau Taplin, the p a t h

Sometimes, in order to make your life a little more interesting, you have to take risks. Say ‘yes’ to stupid plans your friends thought of instead of ‘no’, do unknown things you’d never do, free yourself out of the limited world of your comfort zone.

I want you to take a risk today. It doesn’t have to be a physically dangerous thing, you’re not like Tris (Divergent series). It’s scientifically proven that doing things which used to scare you bring confidence, the results of that test even showed that you’ll feel refreshed and young afterwards too. For example, you could run into that girl and tell her what you actually think about her or you could ask that guy to go on a date with you or you could go to a place you’ve never been to before – as long as it scares you, it’s a good thing.

Compliment a stranger, help someone to pick their books up if they dropped them. Don’t do dangerous and illegal things, just do something which doesn’t belong to your comfort zone. If it’s still in your mind, it’s worth taking the risk! Be brave, take risks because nothing is able to substitute experience.

Good luck!

When I took my last risk, I came across this beautiful sunset. TOTALLY WORTH IT!

Girl, Interrupted

was I crazy? Maybe. Maybe the world is,

Susanna Kaysen – Girl, Interrupted

Girl, Interrupted is a popular novel written by the American Susanna Kaysen. The book is about her life in 1960 when she was put in a mental hospital to fight her Borderline personality disorder and her depression. Everything has actually happened and she’s experienced everything she writes about!
I adored the old smell of this book, the structure of the with a typewriter written pages and the fascinating characters. I loved Polly, who tried to lit herself on fire actually even more than I adored Lisa, who seems to be liked by everyone who reads this book. Polly was gentle and friendly, yet Lisa came across as rude and disrespectful. 

We hurt ourselves on the outside to kill the monster on the inside

Susanna Kaysen – Girl, interrupted 

Kaysen’s a good writer, yet she isn’t the best one, I guess. She doesn’t use many adjectives and her sentences are sometimes very short, which I don’t really like myself. 

I really liked the book though and I do definitely prefer it above the movie. The movie was good too, yet the director hasn’t really been focusing on Susanna’s thoughts, the things happening around her were more important to him, I guess. 

I don’t know what caused her sadness or whether it suddenly developed or not, which is pretty interesting. 

I kept thinking and thinking about this novel and I finished the book in, I assume, approximately two hours. I do recommend the book and I guess that if I were a teacher, I’d give it a B. 



Welcome to reality

Blame the system not the victim


I wrote this chapter right after the Brussels attacks – and I know that this isn’t the only place where things like terrorism happen, I know about Ankara and the other suffering countries – this is just the reason I wrote this. It’s like – I care about the other countries and I care about Brussel, and somehow I wrote this about Brussels and not about Ankara, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about Ankara or Paris and all. 

I actually didn’t want to post this kind of negative things, but since I am in Rome and spotted dozens of military people because the ISIS threat level keeps increasing here I decided to just post it. I can’t close my eyes for the things which are happening, yet I’m not scared. I’m not going to stop doing the shit I used to do just because some kind of blackmailing group of idiots tries to ruin it for us! 

As most of you might know, there was another terror attack in Brussels this morning (22-03-16). Another attack. Another ruined life. My heart goes out to all the people suffering from this terrible occasion. Dying in a massacre is a fear of many – and it shouldn’t be existing, this fear. Not because it’s fun to die in a massacre nor because it never happens, this fear shouldn’t exist because terror attacks shouldn’t exist. 

One day we’ll all shake from the unavoidable pain until we fall down the ground, senseless. Our tattooed hearts will have stopped bouncing and pumping the dark red blood around, the blood which didn’t use to be able to see the sky – unless you scraped your knee so hurtful when you fell of your too small, old bicycle.

What goals have we accomplished? A world where drugs is considered as a meal. A world where people can’t wander regularly  through the grizzled streets of a city that was once theirs without being killed by an aimless rocket? A world where suicide is conceived and considered as a solution. That’s what we have accomplished. 

Who are the people who have let it go this far? Deep inside you already know the answer. We. We are the people who let it go this far. We are the people that caused people getting swallowed up in a society where everything has to stay this fascist- and capitalistic as possible. We’re the people who caused that other people’s nightmares don’t end when they open their sunken eyes. 
Maybe you’re right when you say with your fierce, shining eyes, like newly-cut glass, that I, with my dull, dark eyes, see everything from a very depressing point of view. That there are many sincere confident and happy people living here on earth. That newborn love exists. That young children play on a field of fresh buttercup flowers, surrounded by the refreshing smell of freshly mowed grass. But think about the psychological  statistics which show that 33,3 percent of the American population is suffering from a mental illness. Think about countries where an indestructible war is enlarging the emptiness in their lost eyes. Where people with a wonderful but socially unacceptable mistake, more like a mutation in their systems are directly outcast by their environment. Where is this society going to?
Why do we have to attack people like this – where did we develop the urge to destroy a breathing, living human being, killing its happiness, its family, its life? Why didn’t we learn from World War II? What is happening to our loving society?