Hi Jamie, it's me.

Fragments of him. Echoes of me. 🎼 IG → @hijamie.itsme 🎼 TikTok → @hijamie.itsme

[hijamieitsme]

📝Getting into performing at an early age taught me to switch off the fear of being judged. l also had to accept that for every person that likes you, there will be someone who doesn't. It's so easy when you're a kid to get wrapped up in what people think of you, because you're judging yourself as it is. 📝

[hijamieitsme]

Jamie meets Billy Talent...

🦇Some shadows don't wait for the night...🦇

[hijamieitsme]

The Measure of Words

There is a dangerous and increasingly widespread confusion between possibility and legitimacy — between the right to speak and the duty to judge responsibly.

“S/he made it public, so I can comment” is the digital equivalent of saying “the door was open, so I walked in.”

Behind this rhetoric lies a culture of the internet that has mistaken freedom for impunity, and other people’s visibility as implicit permission for one’s own pettiness.

But a public context does not abolish individual responsibility — if anything, it makes it even more urgent.

Being on social media is not an excuse to suspend ethics.

Writing a comment — even when it’s not openly offensive, but rather insinuating, belittling, or laced with malice — is still an action that leaves a mark.

A mark on the emotional body of the person who receives it, and a trace in the way one inhabits public space.

Because when everyone does it, that space stops being a place of exchange: it becomes a minefield, where shooting at others feels legitimized.

Respect should be the bare minimum in any interaction.

The web is a community.

Not an arena. Not a confessional. Not a trash bin for unloading personal frustration.

And like any community, it needs a culture of presence — even when that presence is mediated by a screen.

One of the problems is that the web has handed a microphone to people who never learned to use their voice with measure.

And worse: it has offered a stage, not a mirror.

Because on social media, you can speak without ever truly seeing the eyes of the person on the other side.

In real life, people often hold back for fear of truly confronting the impact their words can have.

Online, instead, the lack of immediate feedback numbs that perception.

And that’s exactly where personal ethics should come into play.

But such awareness, unfortunately, is not universal.

And so we end up picking up shards — shards of dignity, shards of humanity, shards of broken empathy.

Because that respect — which for some is the basic threshold of civil living — seems to be nothing more than an inconvenient optional for others.

And what leaves me most disheartened is one of the shapes that dehumanization has taken today.

Not shouting, not insults — but flaunted lucidity, controlled sarcasm, coldness disguised as analysis.

There is no real dialogue — just venting.

No critical thinking — just verdicts.

A need to feel superior, dressed up as clarity.

What I see happening — more and more clearly — is a distortion of virtual sociality.

A total disregard for the difference between debate and defamation, between freedom of speech and abuse of space.

People no longer share impressions — they hand down judgments.

In the name of what?

Fundamentally, just the need to feel “right” — and the self-granted right to rewrite someone else’s reality in order to feel better about their own.

If this has been the evolution of social media for some people, then something — somewhere — has gone awry.

Because the human element within the content has been completely forgotten.

And maybe it’s time to ask the question: who has truly understood what?

Because in all of this, there is no healthy critique.

No constructive dialogue.

There is only venting.

And often — in the way it’s done — a form of violence as well.

[hijamieitsme]

📝I can't really deal with Disney, man. It's not my thing. I don't do so well with people pretending to be happy all the time. 📝

[hijamieitsme]

📝My connection to acting is like therapy. You know when you feel that you want to say something and you can’t get it out? Or you don’t know exactly what it is that you’re feeling? Acting for me is embracing all those things I want to say and saying them in someone else’s words but making them true to how I’m feeling. It’s incredibly therapeutic.📝

[hijamieitsme]

📝 I think it’s really good to have an understanding of yourself, to be able to put your finger on what drives you, what fuels your relationships...I have no problem in saying I’ve seen the dark depths of myself but it took me going to those places and finding where those places within me to really appreciate who I am now, today... 📝

[hijamieitsme]

Hi Jamie. Back in 2013, Joe Connor filmed a short video that went on to occupy a quiet, dedicated space in my mind for the years to come. Every now and then, I find myself watching it again — but only a few months ago did I stop to ask myself why it had always stayed with me so deeply. A flood of thoughts swept through me… and among them, a few answers began to surface. First of all, there’s the visual impact: the choice of style, of colors, of setting — and everything that place manages to convey. It’s a suspended environment, one that seems to belong more to memory than to the present, able to speak its own temporal language — made of silence and walls that have absorbed stories. No longer alive, but not entirely gone. A place with a peculiar ability to welcome a young, living body, one that inhabits — without disrupting — the space of the present. Not by blending in, nor by adapting, but simply by falling into rhythm with the breath of those walls, those floors, those stairs. A quiet dialogue between two different melancholies, brushing against each other without ever clashing, never feeling out of place. And that meeting — between a living urgency and a time already lived — creates a deep suspension. Compared to the photoshoot, which is beautiful in itself, the video is what truly breaks the aesthetic distance: it maintains a certain formal detachment, and yet it transmits warmth and presence. As if, through those sequences, you could glimpse an unspoken self-portrait. There’s no narrative, and yet there’s a truth that moves through gestures — not staged, just allowed to rise. It’s not always the close-up that captures intimacy. Sometimes, it’s space — and shadow — that make it possible. And this video, in the way it was filmed, preserves moments. The gestures it captures — even when minimal, even when framed with intention — never feel stolen. They feel allowed to happen, as if the camera were simply there to witness, not to seize. It creates a sense of unperformed closeness, not seeking the viewer, but silently letting them in. And inevitably, I find myself thinking that sometimes truth hides in the less emphatic details. There’s no need for a confession to feel a presence. Sometimes all it takes is one genuine gesture — left free. And in some way — and perhaps this, for me, is the most important part — it feels as though that footage, perhaps by rare and lucky chance, gave that young man permission not to shield himself completely. To let through, even just in glimpses, the undercurrent that moved beneath his surface. Because there was something in him he couldn’t quite quiet. A constant, composed restlessness. As if there were always an unanswered question resting in his gaze. An urgency that didn’t scream, but weighed. There was a kind of presence — fragile and full — that didn’t explode, didn’t demand, but pulsed. It always gave me the sense that this was one of the very few visual spaces where someone actually took care of the person. Not necessarily with depth (after all, it’s still a professional setting), but with enough attention to let an emotional echo surface — observing it without exposing it. Unlike other videos — more predatory, more constructed, more imposed — these frames don’t perform an interpretation. They simply intercept. With affection, Me

[hijamieitsme]

📝 I still find it shocking and hilarious to be paid to be dressed up in clothes that aren’t mine and that I’m told where to stand every day. I love it but it’s such a mind trip. And it's hilarious that anyone even wants to talk to me in a weird way because in my mind I’m just a 24-year-old kid from London, that’s what I am, that is really what I am. 📝

[hijamieitsme]

Few people know how to see when the lights are off. And few can recognize what hasn’t been properly lit. Most need things to be visible, clear, explained, exposed. But some truths exist even in darkness and silence. They move through the folds, they live in shadows and half-light. When the light is gone, many would rather imagine. They fill the dark with wishes, projections, reassurances. Because admitting they don’t really see is unsettling. Because truly seeing takes courage. Not everything that exists can be illuminated. And not everything that is illuminated tells the truth.

[hijamieitsme]

... The door, the threshold, the road: through them begins the journey — sometimes real, sometimes imagined — that touches landscapes, borders, paths, and visible or invisible destinations. Toward the other, the elsewhere, the beyond. And at the end of the journey, we always find ourselves again — or a fragment of who we are.

[hijamieitsme]

Reflections, spoken out loud — mostly to myself.

C.M.C. once wrote a book called The Basic Laws of Human Stupidity, where he observed: “Always and inevitably everyone underestimates the number of stupid individuals in circulation.” He also added: “A stupid person is a person who causes losses to another person or to a group of people while deriving no gain and even possibly incurring losses themselves.” And finally concluded: “A stupid person is the most dangerous type of person.”

So: either that's true, or there really are people who should consider therapy — to develop not only the capacity, but the intention to take care of their own lives, instead of obsessing over someone else’s. In either case, a recurring issue emerges: the inability to recognize and respect the idea of boundaries.

Even when someone gets labeled a “public figure” — which only means they’re known by a large number of people, and are thus inevitably exposed to glances and projections — it's important to remember they are, above all else, individual human beings with private lives. They are not — and will never be — anyone’s property. No one has the right to pass judgment on what they do in their personal sphere.

Despite the fairytale version some fanbases build around their idols, artists — whether they’re singers, actors, musicians... — are first and foremost real people. And secondly (though not less importantly), beings capable of stirring something in us. Each in their own way, form, and intention.

Which is why what we see doesn’t always reflect what’s really there. A smile doesn’t necessarily mean someone is happy. And going out with someone doesn’t automatically mean they’re in a committed relationship.

This urgency to neatly file everything away in labeled drawers can be, at times, deeply disorienting. People are more complex than that — and, paradoxically, things are often much simpler.

Like anyone else, they may be going through moments of joy, struggle, or quiet searching: for lightness, for a pause, for a voice that soothes, for a presence that warms. Or perhaps they’re simply in a phase of life where their priorities have shifted — becoming more intimate, more essential, more human.

That’s normal. That’s life.

Assuming the right to interfere with someone else's choices — unless you're doing so with supportive intent and a judgment-free attitude — seems, at best, inappropriate. More realistically, it’s just disrespectful. I find it hard to believe that intentionally hurting others doesn’t point to something unresolved within.

But maybe some things really aren’t meant to be explained. Even Baudelaire — at some point — exasperated by a certain kind of attitude, wrote in the preface to Les Fleurs Du Mal: "Tout à coup, une paresse accablante, lourde comme vingt atmosphères, est tombée sur moi, et j’ai cessé de m’occuper de cette affaire, convaincu de l’horrible inutilité d’expliquer quoi que ce soit à qui que ce soit. Ceux qui savent devineront ; pour les autres, je serais à jamais un incompréhensible."

[hijamieitsme]

April, come he will... pt. 3

...Some echoes don’t fade...and sometimes they find you back...

[hijamieitsme]

Hi Jamie, I had the chance to listen to the speech you gave on Thursday at Dismas House. It naturally sparked some reflections I'd like to share with you. First of all: be proud of yourself. No matter who else may be proud of you (and there are many, no doubt about it), be proud for yourself. Be proud of the journey you’ve made, of the awareness you’ve built, of the courage and willingness to share your experience, your memories, your thoughts. For making others feel seen, understood, and a little braver to face whatever comes next. This, beyond whether someone else once did the same for you. Because while it's important to be grateful to those who were there for us when we needed it most, it's just as vital to recognize that we were an active part of our own change. I’m sure it wasn’t easy. Even if sharing is part of the path towards awareness and gratitude, opening up about something that cuts so deep inside eats up an incredible amount of energy. Retracing your own pain to offer acceptance and hope means, yes, reaching out a hand to those walking a similar path, but it also means being willing to face yourself again, and a pain that, instinctively, you would rather keep quiet. So, again: be proud of your courage. Everything that touches the deepest and most vulnerable parts of us — depression, addiction, all the wounds and struggles rooted in inner scars — creates invisible bonds, deeply anchored, that never completely dissolve. It demands constant presence, a steady coming back to ourselves. And it means accepting that slipping and falling are real risks, always. But precisely because of that, it also means choosing — again and again, even through the struggle — the path of awareness and self-care. And to truly care for ourselves, we need to learn how to love and forgive — even though, sometimes, it feels easier to do it for others than for ourselves. Love, emotional connection, and support are vital, just as much as building a real network of empathy, respect, and dialogue. Learning to give affection as much as to receive it. All of this can truly nourish us in a deep way when, little by little, we learn to offer it to ourselves too. Without that first breath, whatever comes from the outside risks slipping away, like water poured into a bottomless well. Without that first breath, the hunger for love will never be fully satisfied, and the fear of loneliness or of being unseen will always echo through the walls of our mind and our heart. That's why my wish for you (and also a little for me, and for anyone who has faced, is facing, or will face complicated journeys) is that you are able to be loving and welcoming toward yourself, at least as much as you know how to be toward others.

With affection, Me

[hijamieitsme]

April, come he will...pt. 2

...Some echoes don’t fade...

[hijamieitsme]

April, come he will...pt.1