I always keep myself so consistent with my words, too! As if my words were my thoughts, unique and immobile. It’s like saying things out loud, or writing them (to anyone), locks me in a cage. From that moment on, I can’t get rid of the terrible thought that by doing something that (even if only apparently) contradicts what I said, it makes me attackable, because I hate it, I mean being attacked, even if I knew how to defend myself, I avoid doing it, I don’t have I never stimulate him to do so, and so I let things slip away, I laugh, I always laugh. I’m starting to wonder if I’ve ever had a real laugh, but real seriously I mean! Laughing has become the alternative to everything: getting angry, screaming, talking, crying, and who knows how much else … The cage that I have now doesn’t let you see much light, it’s so thick and dark, ah, if at least it were colored! Instead it is black, very black. I am imprisoned with my words, which I have reserved for a few, but even those few should not have made me speak, because words do not bounce off certain people, but are absorbed by them, I cannot get this idea out of my head and tortures me. I don’t want to talk to anyone anymore, I don’t want to feel the need anymore, which is already a very small need, but I still often give in! If I really want freedom, I have to be alone with myself, I have to escape from anyone and anything, to find an isolated but beautiful place, all mine but nobody’s. And instead this miserable existence of mine will continue in the worst of the chessboards, and I will always be on the corner, ignored, but I will always feel in the center, derided and observed, unable to move, motionless and sad.
So, for a while now I’ve been getting into my head that I want to sew a cosplay costume. But I don’t know which character to choose. He should be an easy character to make, with an easy outfit. Female character. No weapons or too demanding items. Could you suggest me something?
I love myself as I am. With strengths and weaknesses. Black days and rainbows. Paranoia and insecurities. Crooked moons and bipolarity. Logorrheic and despotic. Break boxes and always on his. But above all, always myself.She was no ordinary woman, one with a nice pair of legs, a nice breast, a nice butt or a particular face, I don’t even know if she was really aesthetically beautiful. She had the wrinkles of her years, of her experiences, an angular character, she was complex, almost shy, twisted … Yet she was so beautiful in her doing, in her love, in her infinite being. In everything he did you found hidden all his charm, he had on him the wild scent of freedom, dreams, concreteness, passion. She was not perfect, on the contrary she was moody, at times unpleasant and yet, in every defect, in every excess there was the essence of her being “perfect” because “bastardly sincere”. No, she was definitely not an ordinary woman, her heart extended towards infinity, infinite as the sea is, as the universe is and as deep as the ocean. Yes, he had all the wrinkles of his years, that stubborn, almost unshakable character, he didn’t mince words, often beaten down but never defeated. It was enough for itself, it made sure it was enough. Life had “given” her a lot of tears, but she went on finding a way to dry them by herself. Yes, she was a woman, complicated … a tangle of woman. Call her beautiful? Yes, beautiful, complex and mysterious She had to be stripped from the inside, taken and dragged without asking too many questions, because too many questions would not be answered in words. She had a head, heart and soul and she wasn’t a nice pair of legs, a nice breast. Although she was “nothing special” … she was extraordinary with those who entered her heart and put her heart, strength and passion into everything she did.I have a difficult character. Too proud, perhaps too moody. I hardly feel anything and if someone goes away I go away too without asking for explanations. I could not bear the idea of submitting myself or depending on someone, first of all there is me. I’ve lost so many people and I’ve earned a reputation for being heartless, but I feel my heart … at night when I’m alone and it’s the saddest sound I’ve ever heard. But I hide it. I hide my emptiness, my good side, my desire to love. I am myself only when I want and above all with whom I want!
At 19 she was drugged and raped. At 20 he gets up and invents a handkerchief that can detect the presence of rape drugs inside the cocktails.
Danya Sherman was born in 1997.
In 2015 he enrolled at George Washington University to study international relations.
In the summer of 2016 he flew to Spain for a study experience.
Here, one evening, she is drugged and raped by an acquaintance of hers.
This difficult experience deeply traumatizes Danya.
Once back in the United States, she tells her friends about what happened and discovers that she is not alone.
At this point she realizes she has to do something to prevent the same thing from happening to other women as well.
In 2017 he thus created KnoNap, a handkerchief capable of detecting the presence of rape drugs in cocktails.
A few drops of the cocktail are enough and, in case of drug presence, the handkerchief changes color.
Danya's idea is to create a product that is discreet and that restaurants and bars can use instead of normal napkins.
Today Danya is the founder of a startup that aims to help women defend themselves from rape drugs.
THE PRODIGY OF IDEAS 