I’m trying something new out.
This is a Hey Assbutt, but supercharged.
Contrary to Instagram’s beliefs, I don’t smoke all the time. In fact I hardly ever do, and I always leave at least a few days in between because it fucks with my mood. But whenever I do, I like to smoke alone. It’s my chill time, it’s not a social activity for me. Unless I’m close with you, I probably won’t want to smoke with you. I don’t like doing it in public places, I don’t like doing it prior to a public activity (i.e eating at a restaurant), because the whole point is for me to relax. Smoking and then doing something anxiety inducing defeats the purpose. I usually spend the time listening to music, eating, and then probably napping before I sober up. Sometimes I’ll even write some bullshit, as I have done here; I guess the ‘new’ thing here is bullshitting the high thoughts I have. Right now I wanna bitch about what is probably the most important thing to me: time.
This was a pretty hard post to write.
I’m often berated for my ‘oh well’ attitude. And praised as often as I’m berated. I am absolutely not emotionless… at all. I have all the emotion in the world and I can be a little bitch sometimes, but I can also easily detach from people. This is one of the few posts that I actually had to edit a few times; there were things I wrote on here that became way too personal. Way, way too personal. You could almost have learned a thing or two about me. These are things i had to delete, omit, change up a bit. It got dark, my dudes.
So I’ve gone full Taylor Swift and I’m telling you about 9 songs that I’ve accidentally attached to certain people. Dangerous, I know. I’m not about to expose anyone, though. There are no names, but if the boot fits, wear it. Tag yourself, I’m You x
Sometimes you get a little click in your head. Sometimes it’s followed by more clicks. Sometimes it’s a long succession of little clicks, and they happen so rapidly that you think it’s just one big click and you can’t locate the source. So you ignore it. But tonight, I’m gonna tell you that you must absolutely fucking not ignore it.
Anyway, girls and guys, this post is about what we are absolutely NOT doing in 2019. Or henceforth, or even yesterday, because time is a manmade concept. Read more
Number one: calling yourself a blogger when you only write blog posts once every few months haha fuck those guys haha.
Anyway, I feel like I have to end 2018 with a post in my true fashion. By telling you about things that get on my tits and asking you to stop doing them. And nobody is going to listen anyway, so watch this space for the exact same post, word for word, in 12 months. There’s a lot of swearing in this one, hold tight.
Disclaimer: when I say ‘we’ or ‘us’ or ‘our’ throughout this post, I don’t mean myself because, of course, I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean u man.
1] Filming our generosity Read more
I just wanna let you guys know that I fulfilled a big fat dream I’ve had since I was about 14. That’s an almost 10 year old dream that I’ve FINALLY fulfilled.
I saw Poets of the Fall.
Yeah. Anyway, now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, did I tell you I finally saw Poets of the Fall?
Let’s begin. P.S I’m like a giddy little girl who finally saw her favourite band ever. (Yeah, don’t talk about HIM unless you want me to cry).
So world mental health day was the other day, and I’m always a bit iffy when it comes to the ‘narrative’ on mental health. Said narrative nowadays is always surrounding the ‘destigmatisation’ of mental illness, and I don’t agree with it. I’ve spoken about this time and time again, I’m always thinking about it, I wrote my dissertation on it; destigmatising mental illness is a bad thing. I think it’s a horrible, dangerous, erasing thing. Destigmatising mental illness essentially means to make it “normal”, and mental illness is anything BUT normal. The idea is good – make it easier to talk about. But it’s all gone in the wrong direction; making it ‘normal’, making it something that everyone and anyone has, makes it harder for people who are actually suffering to speak up. There is nothing normal about a mental illness, the same way there’s nothing normal about tuberculosis or gangrene.
Social media sites make it even worse. I get that we’re a generation of self depreciating folk. I get it. Teenagers are depressed and this economy makes them want to kill themselves; we’re all anxious and we’re all a mess. But the schizophrenic kid reading all these memes about depression isn’t going to feel comfortable getting help, because even in a world where everyone is mentally ill, they’re still psycho.
I guess I’ve always had this thing about psychotic illnesses being left out of every single narrative on mental health, and therefore the narrative cannot be complete. You can’t just romanticise the mental illnesses that are easier to have and deal with. Don’t fucking romanticise any at all. Anxiety isn’t cute, depression isn’t edgy, bipolar disorder isn’t something you can switch on and off whenever you feel like it. Not in reality, anyway.
So yeah, I once again have a few not-so-little things to say about Mental Health and here they are.
[Shitpost – 4:30am]
They say the only people awake at this hour are the lonely and the loved, but I’m here because my caffeine buzz is wearing off and I wish I was in love. Right now I feel like I am, but with no one in particular, possibly someone who doesn’t exist, and it’s frustrating. Why am I talking about love so much? Everyone around me is getting into relationships, getting married, and, honestly, being single is getting boring real quick. But I also see people getting into the wrong relationships and just generally being unhappy; I’m tryna stress how important a foundation is. No more time wasting. I only want something if it’s real.
My state of mind right now is equivalent to being intoxicated in some way, so it’s about to get real raw and embarrassing. I feel high. I’m also listening to old J Cole and Miguel and I feel like aunt flo is about to visit, so my head is a real shitstorm right now. Soppy bitch mode currently turned on full blast.
The sun’s about to rise and I’m not tiptoeing around my thoughts; when everything is silent and still, we’re forced into introspection, we have to face everything about ourselves head on. It’s painful, it’s liberating, there’s something sublime about it. I’ve dashed anxiety out of the window, focused too much on being happy with myself and, in the process, forgot to really get back into my head. Not trying to fall back into bad habits, but here we are. I got me up all night, down and out with these love songs. Can’t lie, I missed this.