I think I’m here, therefore I’m here(?)

November 13, 2021 by kkamilah Leave a comment

Or whatever Descartes said.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve posted anything on this blog. I have found myself drawn more to the throwaway simplicity of Substack; my creative (?) thoughts are sporadic and I have a very short attention span, even when it’s for myself. When I lay down at night, I jump from memory, to thought, to scene two in that same thought, to scene three, back to scene one to find out how else it could have played out, to a different thought altogether, to a horrible scenario that I hope will never happen but I’m now prepared for in case it does. Long blog posts don’t really do it for me, and I know they don’t really do it for anyone else, either. I talk about things succinctly (but often), I think about things forever and then write about them succinctly (I hope) (but often). Other times, there is waffle.

This is one of those times.

I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t been writing anything over the past couple of weeks because I’ve had fake nails on. I don’t know how you were expecting that sentence to end, but I know it wasn’t like that – maybe you expected simple writer’s block, being bogged down with work, a crisis in the family. And all of those things are true, but, for a writer, not nearly as debilitating as having long nails that prevent you from typing efficiently on the horrible flat butterfly keys of a 2015 Macbook that just won’t die. Let’s not tempt fate now, though, because, being older and closer to real adult life, I can’t afford my Macbook to die on me the same way I could when I was 19 and didn’t want to think about the future. I used to look into the future and see a black screen because, as far as I was concerned, I should have been dead already and anything that was to happen after that is a miracle in itself. Maybe miracle is the wrong word. Now, I look into the future and I panic because I wasted so much time being dead inside that I now have so much catching up to do; now, I look into the future and it’s not just about me – now, I see the white picket fence. Not really a white picket fence because, living in London, I know a small Tesco lorry will probably back into it and ruin everything. Maybe a big, strong, robust wall. And some barbed wire. And lots of CCTV and gates and deadlocks. Maybe a rottweiler.

I digress. But it’s also a nice illustration of how my thought process works. I get antsy, I can’t sit still. I get anxious, I get frustrated, I don’t know how to be calm. I am, quite simply, all over the place, all the time.

But sometimes, all the chaos must come to a stop and I am nowhere.

Solitude – What’s the Big Deal?

April 5, 2021 by kkamilah Leave a comment

To be alone, or to be lonely. There’s power in it… somewhere.

Happy Monday.

The phenomenon of the long weekend gives me a feeling of pure bliss… but once those few days are over, I realise it shouldn’t be normal to feel this much excitement at the thought of having a couple of days off work. So I end the weekend angry as hell. Slaving away shouldn’t be the norm – I don’t want this to be my life, because living for the weekend is one of the things that reels my depression back in every time it feels like running away from me. Not so fast, we have work tomorrow! But, alas. I spent the Bank Holiday weekend on such a high, that being alone and back in reality right now just consists of me trying to pick up the pieces of myself after going splat on the floor. To be dropped from such a height is soul-shattering, and resuming normality is a long, painful process.

I’m one of the many people who has always loved my own company. The libraries, the lone cinema trips, the late nights with movies and a blank word document, the early morning sunrises with coffee shops and books. I’m always ecstatic at the prospect of having a few days to collect myself and bring myself back up to date with my life; maybe it’s the anxiety, but I need time to reconvene with my thoughts. I need to nurse my mind and cleanse my energy, to pluck off the remnants of the work-week and start brand new. ‘I’d get bored if I didn’t have work’ doesn’t apply to me, and I think you’re either attention-seeking, boring, or lacking in substance if you say such things. Probably all three. I have things to do, hobbies to engage in, plans to kickstart; so if you were to offer me three weeks off work, fully paid, I’m snapping it up without complaint because there is so much to be done. Everybody who complained about being bored on furlough deserves a kick in the face, I hate you all. I could check myself into a hotel for weeks on end and come out a much better person than I was before I went in. Either that or dead. Tomayto, tomahto.

Clocks Go Forward

March 28, 2021 by kkamilah Leave a comment

We all felt how violently that hour lurched forward, right? We all heard the big ‘fuck you and fuck your sleep’ in the sixty seconds between 00:59 and 02:00, right?

Daylight Savings, the horrible spoon of thick medicine we all needed, the forceful push into British Summertime as we had an hour thieved from us. The quintessential sign that summer is just around the corner, regardless of the fact that it’s horrible and grey outside, that we were plagued with torrential rain just the other day.

Today I woke up to the sun shining through my window, ate way too much brunch way too late, and sank into the sofa for an incredibly tense, nail-biting race. The first race of the 2021 Formula 1 season: the Bahrain GP. I saw Nikita Mazepin spin out on his first ever F1 lap, I watched Verstappen relentlessly fight like the charging bull he is, failing to snap first place back from the king himself, all whilst being gifted with little fiery battles between some of my favourite drivers. It was a great end to a horrible week, taking it from an almost-2 to a strong 9. There is a special place in my heart for Formula 1; I’ve always known I love the sport in the decade-plus that I’ve followed it, but I really sat there, after the first race of the season, and thought about how it feels like a void has been filled. Is that sad? It’s quite sad, isn’t it?

No, it isn’t.

Is your man a sociopath? 9 signs he probably is.

September 1, 2019 by kkamilah Leave a comment

“Hate is the complement of fear and narcissists like being feared. It imbues them with an intoxicating sensation of omnipotence.”
― Sam Vaknin, Malignant Self-Love: Narcissism Revisited

narcissism

noun

selfishness, involving a sense of entitlement, a lack of empathy, and a need for admiration, as characterizing a personality type.

This post has been sitting in my drafts for about a month and I no longer care about it, which is why I haven’t posted it… but I think I’m the guinea pig of the dating world. Apparently having ‘I am your mother’ plastered on my forehead, I somehow always found myself associating with the worst of the worst, so it’s only right that I use that for the greater good and teach you what I’ve learnt. And what I have learnt since then is the difference between a bitch boy and a man. I know the gender-is-a-social-construct brigade will get at me for that, but what can I say? There are men and there are men. We’re always categorising women, it’s only fair to do the same. When you’ve gone from dealing with boys who throw their toys out the pram for not buying them food to men who actually have their shit together and act like men, it’s hard not to talk about it.

But this post isn’t about the men, it’s about the bitch boys. I include the definition of narcissism because all sociopaths are narcissists. But not all narcissists are sociopaths.

The difference? Intention.

Both have extreme adoration for themselves, both will always put themselves first, both feel no genuine sense of guilt. Both are undeniably and unhealthily in love with themselves. Both are practically the same, bar one major difference.

A narcissist loves himself and will accidentally hurt you in the process because he’ll always put himself first. He cares about you, but he cares about himself more.

A sociopath loves himself and will at points intend to hurt you because he wants you to be hurt, and he’ll do anything to achieve that.

Panic attack

July 19, 2019 by kkamilah 2 Comments

Everything’s fine.

It’s sudden. It doesn’t happen gradually, it’s nothing and then it’s all encompassing. It’s zero, then it’s a billion, you’re breathing and then you’re choking.

But you do feel it creeping, that familiar feeling that you had forgotten about. It’s bubbling somewhere beneath the surface, and as soon as you realise, all of your senses switch off in a joint effort to combat it. You can’t hear anything around you, you can’t hear anyone talking to you because you’re using all your energy just begging for that feeling to go away before it erupts and forces you to experience it again. People around you will scream at you because you’re not listening to them but it’s because you’re too busy trying to fight it off before it comes.

But of course, life never happens the way we want it to and suddenly you can’t breathe.
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We're all just tryna live comfortable [Hey Assbutt]

February 3, 2019 by Leave a comment

Right. So I recently encountered someone who pissed me off with her wrong opinion. I mean.. there are opinions, and there are opinions that are factually wrong. But then there are wrong opinions. Opinions that shouldn’t even be opinions.
I don’t normally hey assbutt about real encounters with real people, but I was ready to box her mentality. This person publicly broadcasted their snarky question of what a man has been doing all his life if he doesn’t have a house to his name by the age of 25. I was pissed.
You there, good sir. You’re 25. What the fuck have you been doing for your whole twenty five years of life, 21 of which have been spent either shitting your pants or being in education?
Ay you man, you’re 25. I don’t CARE that your grandparents weren’t millionaires like mine were, where is your house? I have four, you should at least have one!
Bruvva, we’re the same age, went to the same school, you got better grades than me; how come I’m a CEO with a family now and you’re still at checkouts? We all have the same twenty four hours!
My guy, you’re thirty years old and living on the streets, why don’t you own a house? Must be all the drugs you take!
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