Sid Aaron Hirji
Bio
Canadian born man who finds literature and science equally fascinating. Trauma bleeds through generations, words heal the hidden scars.
youtube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCS3WEyx5XeX-o8xRwG-cMlg
Achievements (1)
Stories (166)
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Signs of Trauma
Previously I talked about narcissist parents and how an individual can suffer years later. It is imperative to understand that narcissists are everywhere. They could be that friend that you thought was a complete angel, or that roommate whom you thought had such a kind heart. However while they seem perfect at first, they tend to use passive aggressive ways to hurt you. Here are some signs that you are in a narcissist relationship.
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Psyche
Schizophrenia
A mental illness that many people have heard of is Schizophrenia. People may have heard it from the news or from the movie A Beautiful Mind. Regardless there is still much misinformation regarding this illness. As a sufferer I have heard so many things, some that are very insensitive. In this article I hope to educate some people on this illness.
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Education
Vocal's Meaning to Me
Writing is like playing an instrument. Every time a person plays an instrument they perform it in a different idiosyncratic way. It means something different to each person who plays. They may expose any emotion, trauma, vulnerability and the like while playing their piece of music. At the end of the day it is how the listener perceives it. For example when I write I have to have some personal experience show itself into my writings. Growing up different and very isolated from the world I can’t offer people street smarts. I can offer my neurotic textbook smarts and wisdom from having deep meaningful conversations. I suffer trauma from the past and am still not often exposed to the world though I have been almost moved out for three years. Nothing should hold me back.
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Lifehack
Into the Unknown
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I know my colleagues could not hear my voice but I know my clone could. I had been caught shoplifting from the local Staples and security was called. I was sent to a reform school and my parents were promised a reformed son after three months. I had not made strides during my time in reform school. No matter how many toilets I cleaned, or floors I mopped I was just a carefree teen. I did not care about wronging others. Little did I know that they were secretly cloning me. Every day we did personality tests and one night I was abducted and measured. That was my last night on Earth.
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Fiction
