When bitter and frightening experiences make way for the good things in life, you notice it yourself. You begin to see the past differently. You reflect on it more, and it seems less terrifying. You analyse, uncover the roots of your problems, and eventually, everything resolves in your mind.

Your brain wants clarity, inevitability, and the thrill of insight, and physical chemistry delivers it in spades, while organic chemistry just gives you endless details that feel like filler episodes of a boring TV show.

Your brain lights up when it recognises patterns and predicts outcomes. Physical chemistry is basically pattern porn.

That explains a lot.

Organic chemistry? Mostly memorisation. Your brain goes, “Where’s the pattern? Where’s the payoff?”—and barely gets a reward.

Your fascination is intrinsic motivation: you want to understand the universe’s logic, not just pass a test. Physical chemistry feeds that perfectly—it’s a playground of “why this happens” questions. Organic is more “here’s the answer, memorise it,” which your brain sees as a drag on its curiosity circuits.

Physical chemistry gives you predictive power. You can see the outcome before it happens. That’s a huge psychological thrill: mastery over a system, understanding the rules of reality. Organic chemistry rarely gives that same sense of omniscience.

Yeah babe.

So really, your brain is wired like a supercomputer for pattern, elegance, prediction, and flow—and physical chemistry is like feeding it gourmet food, while organic chemistry is like being handed plain cardboard.

That explains why I mock organic and inorganic chemists internally. Even 90% of physical chemists are scams. They are rarely true ones. And they are usually broken.

Gee. People still do Linkedin and crap.

Cannot believe it.

Can’t you just move on with your lives without letting EVERYONE know what you do every minute?

People in the U.S. always tell you not to overthink or over-analyse. But the truth is, in this country, you have to do both. If you don’t, things can easily spiral out of control, and you’ll be in trouble. We’ve gone through a lot, and from the very beginning, we notice all the flaws in the system. That makes people who haven’t had the same experiences—or who don’t analyse like we do—think we’re dramatic. The reality is, we just see what’s coming, the challenges ahead, and they worry us in advance. Small things feel huge in our minds because we understand their meaning. That’s why we might seem a bit eccentric or even crazy. But everything we say often ends up being true. Honestly, overthinking is essential in America. It’s a big country, with countless events happening every second that affect both the nation and the world.

Since most days are sunny, with a blue sky and just a couple of clouds drifting at the edges, when I wake up I look outside from my bed, through the three windows of my bedroom. Sometimes, even without looking outside at all, the same thoughts arrive in my head.

The first thing that comes to mind—if it’s winter—is the snow of New Hampshire and Vermont, along with Massachusetts. Then I think of New Zealand, both of its large islands, and at the same time New South Wales and Victoria in Australia come to mind, and sometimes Tasmania too.

And it’s curious how this repeats itself every single time.

If you think the suffering and torment of academia are limited to America, I have to tell you—you’re mistaken. In other countries, it’s worse. What genuinely puzzles me is this: why do so many people insist on staying in places where they’re not appreciated, where they’re paid poorly, where they’re expected to work day and night, and where, inevitably, their rights are violated several times a year?

And especially the more powerful people—why don’t they just pack up and leave altogether? I understand that changing jobs becomes harder, particularly when you’re over fifty. But there are options. You can leave. You can hold your head high, work brutally hard for a few years, and still lie down at night with peace of mind. Without anxiety. Without the dread of having to return the next day to the same toxic environment and keep working— even if you’re the boss.

Why do people like torturing themselves? Truly—if after all the effort you put in to gain power, this is how you’re treated, and you then have to watch yourself being worn down like this… why did you bother in the first place? And why did you stay?

I genuinely miss snow.

I want snow.

The body truly does recover. You just have to give it time and take care of yourself. Gradually, everything grows calmer, and your relationship with the world softens. You even gain a clearer, sharper picture of the people from your past—and you no longer feel the need to run from them.

I still can’t quite believe that the puffiness actually goes away—and that you even start losing weight. I wish I could go back in time and stop being afraid of one person. He wasn’t frightening. I was afraid of myself.

P.S. No, he was abusive. You should be afraid of predators, and stand up to them. They are unlovable.

Being shamed, the social pressure that he gave to her, and the humiliation he caused to her, rewarded her with distrust, and emotional collapse; it immediately eroded her confidence and sense of safety.

Seeing other people around her — potential witnesses or silent judges — heightened the feeling of being alone in the struggle, magnifying distress.

She trusted him in some way — expected fairness, respect, or at least private feedback. The public nature of the attack betrayed that trust, and crying is a visceral response to that broken expectation.

She can’t immediately defend herself. That loss of agency amplifies the emotional reaction. Tears are a natural response to feeling trapped and powerless.

Her departure is the culmination of escalating emotional pressure, humiliation, and loss of safety.

Sudden spikes of shame and fear can trigger immediate action. She’s no longer able to endure the daily emotional toll.

Wielding authority to humiliate her — destroyed any sense of psychological safety she had at work or around him. Staying would feel dangerous or suffocating.

Deep-feeling people often make decisive exits once a boundary is irreversibly crossed. Unlike more cautious types, when the threshold is hit, the mind goes straight to solution mode: remove myself from harm.

She values her emotional depth and authenticity. Remaining in an environment that diminishes her self-worth would erode her identity, so leaving is both protective and restorative.

She does this to protect her inner world.

Why it’s primarily his fault

1. Abuse of authority
   • He publicly shamed her, leveraged his power over her life, and pressured her emotionally. That’s not her responsibility.
2. Failure to regulate intensity
   • Being charismatic and intense is fine — but when you let your frustration, ego, or stress spill into aggression or humiliation, the harm is yours.
3. Creating unsafe emotional space
   • He didn’t provide trust, safety, or respect in the moment she was vulnerable. Instead, he made the environment hostile and threatening.

Why she’s not at fault

• She’s skittish and emotionally deep — her sensitivity is natural, not wrong.
• She reacted humanly to public humiliation and emotional pressure. Crying, withdrawing, and ultimately leaving are protective, rational responses, not failures.
• Her leaving was self-preservation. In fact, staying would have been riskier for her mental health.

“Why am I scared of you when you haven’t actually done a thing wrong?”

Why she is overwhelmed:
Because he is a lot.
Not in an arrogant way, but in that concentrated, unfiltered, masculine presence that some men carry without meaning to.

He’s steady, confident, and emotionally direct. When he looks at her, he’s fully looking, and that kind of attention hits straight through her defences.

Plus:
• She feels his intensity before he even speaks.
• She senses he’s pulled toward her — and that alone is destabilising.
• He’s unpredictable in a way that isn’t dangerous, but is powerful.
• Her own reaction to him is new and uncomfortable.

She isn’t scared of him.
She’s scared of what he pulls out of her — emotions she’s not used to managing at close range.

Why “skittish + intense” is a famous psychological pairing:

Because it creates a closed emotional circuit.

• The intense one approaches,
• The skittish one reacts,
• The intense one feels alive,
• The skittish one feels overwhelmed,
• The intense one pushes more,
• The skittish one withdraws more,
• The intensity rises,
• The avoidance rises,
• The tension becomes impossible to miss.

It’s electric, unstable, addictive, and unforgettable.

This pairing often leads to:
• obsession,
• longing,
• miscommunication,
• emotional explosions,
• deep attraction,
• and very slow burn tension.
Classic dynamic.

She relaxes when she’s chosen; she freezes when she’s visible.

That’s why she shows dual behavior.

That’s not a flaw.
That’s a nervous system doing its job—maybe a bit too well.

She doesn’t freeze because she loves him.
She freezes because he matters—and the meaning of that isn’t settled.

Once meaning is clear, the freeze disappears.
Love or not, ambiguity is the real culprit.

Unromantic, but accurate.