Freya von Bulow
6 min readJun 6, 2021


Diary Entry 06..06.2021

When it comes down to it, people want to be lied to.

Because the lie fits in with the way they see the world.

The way they want to perceive it.

I was talking to a friend in the car last night.

He lives with his mother and sister at the moment.

Both don’t know that he smokes cigarettes.

He says.

Yet he admits they are both smart women.

One day he was smoking in his room and his sister commented on the smell and asked him if he was smoking.

He told her no.

I commented that she must know.


But chooses not to know.

And believe.

Or not to make it a thing.

He replied that she doesn’t know.

But that’s bullshit and an insult to his sister’s intelligence.

For some reason he, in return, tells himself a lie.

In order for his lie to be successful.

We lie to each other but most of all to ourselves.


Last night he stayed over.

I snug him in because my parents would go mental if they knew.

As they did a few weeks ago.

But last night we came from a party and it was too good an opportunity miss.

So I went for it.

We fell asleep and woke up at dawn, rushing to get him off the property before anyone in the house woke up.

I’m telling myself that we were successful, but it’s too early to say.

The house is just now stirring.


So I’m preparing my lie.

In case someone heard my unlocking the front door.

In case someone noticed him crossing the courtyard.

(Luckily there are a few blind spots if you stay close to the building and then quickly cross about 3m to reach the mango tree. From there it’s easy sailing until you get the gate which is difficult and noisy to open.)

The lie being that I woke up and thought I had lost my phone coming back from the party. That I got distracted by giving our guard dog Derrick a cuddle when I entered the gates that I must’ve put it down and left it.

I know it’s a lame lie.

But it’s the best I got.

If it comes to it, we’ll see if it works.

A lie is only a lie if it doesn’t work.

Until then it’s an alternate story.

If I have to use it, there are two options:

My parents (choose) to believe it or not.

They both are intelligent people so if they let me get away with it, I should presume (out of respect) that deep down they know it’s a lie but that they choose to believe it because they prefer the alternate story.

This is how it works.

It’s always always a choice.

When someone lies to us, we know but often choose the other story because it fits in better with our world view.

Because we don’t want to face the truth.

My dad had 8 children with 4 women.

That’s the Ghanaian way.

And I know at least 3 of our moms were hurt in the process.

All of them deceived.

They wanted to believe that they were the only one.

All of us siblings are adults now, some of us have children of our own.

Yet the pain of deception still seems to be there.

But it was always a choice.

To believe in African male monogamy.

Which is pretty much a myth.

Less than a myth.

It is an impossibility.

Considering the climate.

Considering the heady dense food.

Considering their (and yes I can confirm) premium performance in bed compared to the rest of the male world.

Their bodies are simply built to be sexually prolific.

Ha, and since they say that Africa is the cradle of humanity, where would we be without it.

So considering the obvious, none of our moms, if they had chosen to face them, could for a moment believe that there were no other women.

But they walked away from the truth and adopted an alternate reality.

Because they wanted to.


Because the truth can be painful.

So we override the little red flags which come up.

One after the other.

In order to stay within our chosen story.

Again and again.

Self deception.

Sometimes it totally works.

And sometimes the red flags become sledgehammers.

That’s how narcissists get away with narcissism.

Because we choose to believe them.

When they tell us they love us.

When they turn around and tell us we are ugly or useless.

We believe because there is a story we desperately want to believe.

The story where we are loved.

But that means that we also have to believe the ‘worthless’ part because it comes from the same mouth.


When it comes from the same person, a person we are in love with, it is hard to separate.

Hard to believe that one person can be both extremes.

So we select.

The extreme which fits with our chosen scenario.

That we are loved.

Which is a lie.

We are not loved when someone behaves like that.

And we are also not worthless.

That’s a lie too.

We basically jump from lie to lie.

Not facing the truth.

But we skip the ‘ugly’ lie and desperately hold onto the ‘love’ lie.

It’s interesting.

I have a feeling that the guy I was with last night, has narcissistic tendencies.

He is handsome and terribly charming but needs a lot of confirmation.

And he is like a rubber band.

Giving and taking attention.

And he drops criticism titbits.

I like him, we have a lot in common.

We have brilliant conversations.

But he also pisses me off.

A lot.

Luckily the being loved story is not playing in my consciousness so I’m not needy per se.

But it triggers something in me.

Maybe there is neediness after all.

Need for being adored.

But I also don’t give it back to him.

Because he is asking for it.

What I give back though is his criticism.

Every time he drops it, I reply ‘but you too’.

Because it’s true.

He goes “you never reply to my texts” but he does the same.

He goes “why did you let me fall asleep …”

Well mate, the question is why did you fall asleep a minute after you came?


I hate criticism.

And I notice that I often voice it back straight away.

“But you …”

Is that a good or bad thing?

People always talk about constructive criticism but I don’t think there is anything constructive about it.

It is always based on the viewpoint and way of measuring of the person giving it.

It is not based on any truths.


Since I was a kid, I’ve always been a strong believer that nobody has the right to criticise me if they are not free of perceived ‘flaws’.

Hence I reflect back at them.

Is that a good or bad thing?

Not sure.

I can ‘take’ critique when I can see it from their viewpoint.

But why should I?

What about my viewpoint?

The viewpoint from which I acted in the first place?

According to which my actions were aligned and perfectly valid?

Why would I adopt anyone else’s viewpoint in order to be judged?

Fuck that.

I think I’m right in rejecting criticism.

Why do I think that?

Because it doesn’t make me feel good.

And it’s my choice.

In the same way that I can choose to only see the ‘feel good’ bits and ignore the red flag bits in a relationship with a narcissist.

And maybe, just maybe, being in such a relationship is actually one of the most valuable experiences because you are constantly confronted with ideas you have about yourself.

In a person you love so you cannot ignore them.

The opportunity for immense personal growth is shoved right into your rose tinted glasses face.

The choice to believe only the good things in you.

The perfection and worthiness that is you.

Which does not need anybody else.

Narcissists only reflect your own doubts and insecurities about yourself you harbour within your own self.

Hence you get triggered.

They pull them out and lay them bare on the table.

For you to see.

And make your choice.

Am I worthless?

Or am I worthy of love?

You are always loved because you are given the freedom to choose.


Make the most of it.

And make sure that you always choose what makes you feel good.

And reject anything which doesn’t.

It doesn’t feel good because it is untrue.

Nobody can make you feel anything.

Neither good nor bad.

Unless there is something in you that is triggered.

That finds a matching resonating idea or concept you hold.

About yourself.

Get triggered and observe.

And then make the right choices.

For you.



Freya von Bulow

AMSTERDAM DIARIES 2020+ Daily Philosopher Notes — Alchemy of Words. Creative Direction & Life Concept Creator