About me

I wrote a whole story to tell you something that showed up in the very end!!
So, I decided to place the important ending on top! This way, you read the most important part first.

After that you can read the whole story. Let’s jump right into it:

I soon got into my first psychosis. A major mental crisis that the doctors
explained from a pure biochemical perspective.

Their suggestion was to reject everything that was out of the ordinary in my life to then start building a normal, healthy one.

“A dopamine irregularity in the brain that makes me do funny stuff in irrational ways.”
This explanation was, in fact, completely disconnected from my inner story. As if every explanation or idea about it was irrelevant. This made me reject the idea. It scared me so much, I thought embracing this idea
would turn me into an unpredictable ticking time bomb.
Therefore this explanation would not do.

This is probably the reason why I managed to hold off the idea of
having had psychoses for so long.

One week later I got out. Two years later I got in again. Again for psychosis.

A week later I got out again. Then another two years later I got in for eight weeks. And then continuing from that three months.

For the three month stay, I negotiated to prove to them that I could
do without medication. They agreed. I proved myself then.

I got out, recovered, rebuilt my life, found a girlfriend and married her.
She is pregnant now.

I dedicate the rest of my life to embrace that which is what I want to do.
Right now that seems to be making art for the rest of my days.

I want to build the crazy things my imagination comes up with.
Get rich and let my fantasy go even wilder.

All while I still will be able to maintain my responsibility.
To keep taking good care of myself and my family.
And the flame inside of me.

If I can do all this while being a millionaire, I will succeed.

I will once and for all prove to the world that I can be a
rich crazy artist, and also take responsibility.
To prove the first doctor (and many others in the six years)
wrong, I’m not sick. I’m just grown in a particular way.

I will dedicate the rest of my life to this journey.

Or, if I don’t want to do that anymore, then I won’t anymore.


Born in Amsterdam in 1987 from Paul (’53) and Agnes (’53).
Second in the line of three living children.

I got through primary school with flair and super-ease.
Befriended seemingly with everyone, scoring among the top-rated
children of the class.

Around that time my parents had me tested for IQ.
I was told to have a near-gifted level of intelligence.
High above the mean average.

Skipping the final year, I went to high school one year sooner than regular.
I was thrilled. And very proud of my intelligence.

Starting off ambitiously in the highest level of education.
As I had such a shiny career behind me, the question from a fellow
classmate whether I’d was a nerd or not, completely caught me off guard.

In a short moment of deep fear, I answered that I wasn’t.
To myself, I vowed at that moment never to study too hard, ever again.
And to always be popular and be among the cool people of the class.

It worked. But the price was high.

My grades slowly but steadily started to decline. By the third year,
I failed and had to re-do the whole year.
What shocked me most about this, was having to leave behind all
of my peers. I had to restart a social life in the year below me.

The dedication for becoming popular still payed off big time.
But the studies didn’t improve.

By the sixth and final year I had learned to pay attention in class.
Somehow, that had kept me in the running until then.
But doing homework, and working hard for school was still
in my banished corner.

I failed the final year, and went to an adult educational
program to avoid having to re-do all courses. I graduated the next year.

During high-school, I also found out about my skills in acting.
Harvesting a lot of praise and some popularity,
I gained interest in acting school.

Trying auditions for the big acting schools in the Netherlands,
I finally got accepted into the acting school of Utrecht.
This was a major accomplishment.

Going for it all the way, both socially and in the classes.
But not at all at homework. At home I was tired, and
never could get myself to do the stuff I had to prepare.

This gave going to school extra stress. My teachers complained
to me about it, and I started to become insecure.
My acting started to quickly decline, becoming unbearable
to watch for anyone.

My brain started working over-hours. Trying to think my way
back into succeeding. My thoughts and associations became
more and more abstract. My intuition moved into more and
more experimental directions. And my insecurity grew.

Before Christmas, the school advised me to leave. I refused,
not wanting to let go of such a major opportunity.
I tried for a few more months.

But then I could bear it no longer. My relationship with the group
had deteriorated by now. Falling asleep sometimes during class.
Becoming the class disturbance more and more. This only added
to the stress and exhaustion.

A few months later I quit.

Thinking I was so much in my head all this time, studying Philosophy
would probably be easy for me.

Being very lazy with anything I had to do at home, included preparations
to get a house to live in. Studying in the very north of the Netherlands,
going back and forth every day was not an option.

Six days before my studies would start, I realized I didn’t have a
home yet. I asked around quickly and someone luckily told me about
a squatted home nearby. It was a Wednesday.

I went there, and asked how one could enter the home to live there.
The answer was that they had had an intern party where they
would select the new inhabitants.

Having had the last party nearly a year ago, and not having
planned a new one, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I asked if they would mind if I would throw a party that weekend.

I returned the following Saturday with two crates of beer and sixty
euros of Silver Haze. Sharing with everyone, and enjoying quite
a lot of it myself, I passed out in one of their bedrooms.

That Monday after I got accepted in the house meeting,
and I had a home.

Smoking weed by now became a daily habit after the colleges.
I attended all classes, strictly. But I didn’t manage to read a
single book.

By the time my tests came around, I had no clue. I failed
them all horribly.

This sparked a fear inside of me.

The end – after this comes the first paragraph, on the top of the page.
Thanks so much for reading this far. I hope you enjoyed the reading!