mind inventing murphy’s law


whenever I think about something that I enjoy, a person, an event, I can’t find the right words and it’s so annoying. My racing mind is like a word search except the word bank keeps changing places.

but I always can clearly think of how things can go wrong. Of how actors or real people can or will die, especially when I am enjoying them performing. oh and I imagine the actor’s deaths too. if i’m watching old movies with actors I enjoy that i haven’t seen in the limelight lately I assume they’re dead.

I have spent a lot of my life considering the worst case scenarios of everything. and sometimes, it delights me. in a way it is cathartic. it can also be cathartic when things do go wrong because, i enjoy it — believe i enjoy at least partly because it confirms my biases.

my mind invented murphy’s law


I Am Obsessed.

635956624060248804-754338554_obsession gift.gif

I am obsessed with engorging myself. Partly because I haves an oral fixation, another part is the glamour that surrounds the luxury of having snacks and bountiful amounts of food, only a glamour enjoyed by narcissistic first worlders aka Americans. Partly because eating feeds the delusion that I am filling a void – you see what I did th…never mind, I digest. I mean digress.

I want to get over this obsession. Not because it is physically and mentally unhealthy although those are negative factors of the situation; i’m just shallow. I don’t want to get to a size I’m uncomfortable with and don’t feel confident looking in the mirror. I have enough issues doing that now, I don’t need to add my weight to that priority list of insecurities. It also is so boring. So many habits I am realizing I’ve formed over the years are just drab. Life is short. I absolutely have to do more exciting things with my life. Which doesn’t include eating garbage constantly. I need to make the simple moments more meaningful by not saturating them with my lack of self control. I need to enjoy moments more and not rush through them because I’m just trying to get to the next moment. Life is becoming a series of moments I am rushing through and that is a terrible feeling. Watching life pass you by, barely being a participant leaves you empty. Hence me feeding myself to fill myself up. See how I brought it full circle?

For Manchester.


Above is a photo of thousands of people gathering in Albert Square to remember victims of the Manchester bombing attack that occurred last night.

22 people’s lives ended yesterday. 59 were wounded. An entire country has been scarred once again. In fact they are still recovering from the London attack which occurred less than 3 damn months ago.

Despite these constant wounds and constant healing periods needed,  Great Britain will never grow callous no matter how many times disaster attempts to strike to rip open the wounds, and rip the nation apart. Their solidarity is unwavered.

For those of you from the UK, you will heal. Allow yourself to hurt, and ask for all the help you can, because you deserve that help, ten times over.

I cannot dwell on those to blame for this tragedy because they don’t deserve any more fucking attention. I’m going to focus on extremely inspiring posts I was moved by on social media from news sites and people in Manchester.

Here is a man from Manchester at a blood donor center giving extremely kind words for his community.

Below is a message sent to Lauren Duca, a freelance journalist out of New York City, from a 23 year old Manchester resident on the night of the attack. Duca posted it on her twitter last night. It was such a sensible outlook in such an irrational time, and made me want to do nothing but help these people affected.

DAfCSM0WAAQlPZ8.jpgHere is a transcript of the message if the wording is too small to read: 

“Hi Lauren 

I’ve emailed you/tweeted you once or twice before, because I think you’re brilliant. You’re an inspiration. 

This message is different though, it’s a request. I live in Manchester, and obviously we’ve suffered the tragic attack tonight. I don’t know how this new sis being covered in your country, and I also don’t know if you or any of your colleagues are intending to write about it. 

If you do though, I think it’s important you know one thing. 

We in the city have not reacted to this terror attack with vitriol; or with fear. We have not even reacted in open defiance (yet). Our first reaction ha been to take to the streets with water, with supplies, to open our homes to those who are stranded and also, sadly, to guide the families who have lost their children through to the centre of a city they don’t know. 

If you do choose to write about us, please know that reacted with kindness, empathy, and love. Not with hate. 

Either way, you’re the best. “

Below is a video giving children advice if they are feeling anxious sad or confused about what they’re seeing in the news in terms that kids can easily understand. I love this. Take the time to communicate sensitively with children. especially in such intense times as these.


I know this little post couldn’t amount to much compared to what the people of Manchester need and the victims of the attack need right now, so just consider this my two cents.

Sincerely yours,

Drugs: My All Time Favorite Crush

drugs. my all time favorite crush:

I rest my arms on them when I get tired, and use them to prop myself up when I don’t have the energy to do it myself,

I use them to move forward. I use them to help me guide myself into the next day without free falling facefirst into a sobriety filled psychosis.

or is it the withdrawal from the drugs that causes the sense of dissociation you know it gets hard to tell when you’re always on drugs.

on them. like a crutch, helping me put one foot in front of the other because sometimes I am just lucky to have the motivation to make one small step out the bed in the morning.

a drug is..something to lean on when you don’t have a shoulder.  and there’s been so many shoulders you’ve wanted to lean on that swiftly moved from underneath you when you didn’t expect it, but drugs. they don’t slip away. they don’t flee, they don’t leave me. they don’t die. they don’t make you cry. or get fed up with your shit. they lean into you and they make you feel like you can stand up again. like you could float. like you could find your footing if you could just stop stumblin’.

So Fucking Annoying.


anxiety is so fucking annoying.
being worried about the future is so fucking annoying.
obsessive thoughts are so fucking annoying.
eczema is so fucking annoying.
ugly skin is so fucking annoying.
not being able to relax is so fucking annoying.
constantly being driven by a vice is so fucking annoying.
having physical and mental health issues I’m too broke to fix is so fucking annoying.

life be so fucking annoying.

especially when no one is around to just hug me and lie and tell me: everything is going to be okay and even if it isn’t I’m here for your lost ass. goddammit I’m just as lost as you. 

Or something like that…

drugs, scabs, and attention.


drug addiction is a hell of a drug. vices are a hell of a drug. self medication. distraction. a cloak to protect you from reality. vices are so necessary as we are being bombarded with constant sensory stimuli, we have to find something that we feel gives our brains a break. vices such as a hobby that one must take time to take part in or else may not feel like themselves. healthy vices may be drawing, writing, idk, some bullshit like committing nice deeds but often vices have a negative connotation. like mines for example. They include emotionally available generally fucked up love interests, picking my scabs, oh and drugs. can’t forget those love things. *sniffs line* they are just the bee’s knees. I don’t know what I would do without vices. as a child, I often would use video games as a vice, music, AOL instant messenger, and that’s when I discovered my true vice. attention.

being distracted by constant satisfaction, it’s the perfect plan. a constant cycle of expectations fulfilled quicker than they flee. they feed so many of your true desires; to escape, to feel something that stimulates enough to continue to live life, find friends, isolate yourself. it’s the greatest excuse.

what happens when you’re left to your own devices and only vices. no mundane, routine responsibilities. no job, no kids, no family. you become your most true self. your most carnal self. the motivation is at an all time high to be stimulated but by what? it could range from love to hard drugs that deteriorate you from the inside. So much for natural inclination to survive. That’s only if your vice happens to be staying alive and not just feeling alive or maybe finding some strange balance in between if a balance is even possible in this wildly unfair existence.

men, peacocks and femme culture


Men do nothing but purchase proverbial peacock feathers in an attempt to flex in front of women to get their attention. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the peacock mating process but it includes a the male peacock performing an elaborate dance and spreading his feathers. The male peacocks are actually the only ones with the vibrant tail. The more vibrant and large your feathers are, the more superior you are considered to be and the more likely you will find a mate. Sound familiar?

Men have been being praised lately for non conforming and not adhering to societal norms by wearing things like rompers, skirts and flowers in their hair. Sometimes men like to talk about how performing “gender bending” behavior and wearing feminine clothing is simply done to get bitches – flaunting a peacock feather if you will.

Now,I must diverge from my main point for a moment to speak on a legend and a true non conforming androgynous icon; Prince. Prince did not wear pants with his asscheeks out to get bitches. He wore it because he wanted to be himself. Authenticity coupled with uniqueness is sexy on anyone. Prince getting bitches was just a serendipitous side effect.

These days, young men such as Young Thug and Jaden Smith do appear to be benefiting from engaging with non binary and/or femme culture by dressing in ‘feminine’ clothing. They also have given statements to magazines that insinuate in vague and ambiguous ways they personally identify with nonbinary/femme culture. I believe it’s possible men, especially those in the limelight may dress in this performative way in order to appease the current audience of pop culture and to appear contemporary and original. Or it could be nearly 100% an authentic, performative act. Mind you, this is my current interpretation.

Back to the analogy involving cash and feathers and men. So, non binary + feminine culture is not a peacock feather that necessarily attracts women but men BUY clothes, flowers for their hair and beards, and chokers tp\o demonstrate something that is desirable to women such as open mindedness and “being an ally”, or simply liking the same things she like ( i.e. femme culture) Men are low on non material peacock feathers but but have a high amount of green feathers that can be traded in for gold, silver and diamond feathers or sports car feathers, “gender bending” feathers, contemporary feathers. All of them allegedly adding more vibrancy to their spread. Needless to say the average man is not much different than the peacock with his process of mating.

little spurts of sadness: a series


spurt 1: 6:45 pm

having self sabotage sessions as I rack my brain on what is and what isn’t appropriate to write. I don’t mean to get meta but I’m just trying to say what’s on my mind. because I’ve got something to say. Glory Box blasts in my ears, catharsis, nostalgia and melancholia is on the horizon but after stuffing my face with food and filling my lungs with weed smoke, I wanted to feel something.

spurt 2: 6:58 pm

when you have constantly been in fight or flight mode for 15+ years, when does fear stop being a evolutionarily beneficial defense mechanism and start becoming self destruction? When and where can you tell it is a useful component, when is it simply your brain afraid to evolve?

spurt 3: 7:09 pm

when your heart gets so heavy it tips you forward. turn that sad song off, wipe the tears, hit the blunt, pretend you aren’t you for a moment before you exhale. and then you’re in hell.


So I’m sitting here again,

Thinking about how much of a failure I am; but I’ve been spending a lot of time around beautiful talented women of color with endless potential so why am I feeling so down?

perhaps my subconscious is ringing the alarm to let me know IT. IS TIME. TO GET. YOUR FUCKING. SHIT. TOGETHER!!!!


I had to get kicked out, verbally abused and shaken to my core, to finally realize…bitch you need a job. Bitch you need to pursue your art. Bitch you need to change the world BEFORE you fucking end this shit.

….time is ticking. I need to have my shit together by the time I’m 30. I uttered that drunkenly at the bar with my friends but it stuck with me. It stuck with me and my brain because we both know it’s true. It’s only four years, but that’s an entire high school career, a college degree, a long term relationship. A lot can happen in 4 years.

On to happier stuff; I spent hours last night cackling, playing games of Uno, while high off life and sativa infused gummy bears. Shots of very special Hennessy and melanin dripping all over the place was the perfect mix for an amazing Friday night. And it was so simple to put together. So cozy and comfortable. A simple, quaint space to be myself. A place to laugh till I cry, inspire uncontrollable laughter and smiles from women with golden hearts.

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