Taking Stock.

Taking Stock.

Making: Green Tea. 

Cooking: Microwave Rice. I know, I’m basically Gordon Ramsay.Reading: (Re-reading) Starter For Ten by David Nicholls, the funny bits are so realistic and unfortunately similar to my own life it makes me cringe.

Wanting: To actually find some pretty flowers to press. Sorry flowers, I’m sure you’re all beautiful inside.

Looking: At my tiny little iPhone 4S’ screen and thinking about the damage I’m doing to my already below-average eyes.

Playing: Without – Years &Years on this wonderful little app called Deezer with which I can listen to music offline during the ’15 day free trial’ because I’m too broke for Spotify premium.

Deciding: Whether I’ve got enough energy to cut real tomatoes to go with my microwave rice or if I’ll be lazy and use tomato salsa instead.

Wishing: I had lots of money so I could hire a chef to make yummy vegan meals for me which somehow all include avocado.

Enjoying: My earphones with one broken earbud. No, not really.

Wanting: The summer holidays to be about a month longer. 

Liking: The weather lately. I have a lowkey fear of going outside not wearing a jacket and as this is England, I can go outside in the summer and it be a pleasant temperature but still look normal in a denim jacket.

Wondering: Why I lose all my socks. Is there a vacuum that just sucks them all up? Is there a secret black market that only sells left socks? 

Loving: Deezer, again. Music really is a necessity when you spend most of your time at home with no internet and very, very bad phone signal.

Pondering: Whether if I dye my hair pink then maybe I might not be allowed back into school. That’d be a sure fire way of securing that extra month of holiday.

Watching: 500 Days Of Summer. Again. The soundtrack to that movie is one of the best feats of film making I’ve ever encountered and it should be celebrated. 

Hoping: They stop putting gelatine in most sweets because a) iI’s gross. Stop it. b) I really want some Haribos. 

Marvelling: That there is a possibility that at some point in my life I might create another human being and house it in my belly for the first nine months of its existence.

Smelling: The green tea I just made. If I’m honest, it doesn’t smell that great.

Wearing: Pyjamas. (A Tom & Jerry too and shorts) It’s only 16:00. Duhh.

Thinking: I really want to go back to that Chinese All You Can Eat Buffet. I’m really craving some corn balls.

Admiring: Everyone who’s not wearing Pyjamas right now.

Sorting: Probably should be sorting my stuff out to go back to school but we’ve already established I’m lazy.

Getting: A new backpack. This one will be the third.. I lose a lot of stuff.

Disliking: Spinach. My mum seems to understand “I hate spinach.” as “Please find new, incentive ways to hide spinach in all my meals.”

Giggling: At Nothing. I don’t have pathetic emotions like happiness. Eurgh, I’m disgusted you even suggested it.

Wishing: That I could cut out the whole buffet thing and just get some Corn Balls. They taste really good.

Helping: Myself to some soda water. Eh, I’m self-involved and I love it.


But you say there is equality.

When I was little, I wanted to be white.
That’s the colour the sweet, popular girl at school was. That’s the colour the beautiful, breath-taking supermodels on the billboards. And that was the colour all the characters in my favourite tv series were. Which role models looked like me? Beyoncé is now the third woman (behind Naomi Campbell & Halle Berry) to grace the cover of Vogue in the magazine’s 123 years of publication, and people are raving as if this is iconic. That’s not iconic. That’s ridiculous. The third in 123 years. But you say there is equality.
My mother moved from France to England because she didn’t believe she, a young black woman, could get a respectable teaching job where we were. My mum forced me to read English story books, meant for an age much younger than I was yet it was still extremely difficult. She made me read every single day and I hated every minute of it. I see know that she did this so I could speak English perfectly by the time it mattered, by the time people started to assume I was illiterate, uneducated and ignorant from the colour of my skin. And even though my mum spent hours teaching me the English I am able to speak so fluently now, due to her patience and encouragement, you can still tell English is her second language. She asks me how to say certain British expressions to fit in, She asks me to proofread emails for her, out of embarrassment that she feels her English isn’t sufficient enough to be taken seriously, it sickens me that while their mastery of the English language is more than proficient, it doesn’t matter, because the rest of the world doesn’t care. But you say there is equality.

I grew up, watching the world’s understanding of my cultural heritage being reduced to the “black best friend”, being portrayed as domestic help, sassy and thugs. I grew up being asked “but, where are you really from?” as a reply to when I told them I was born in France. I grew up, being told I had to be the servant when I played families with my white friends, when I held in me the fact that when slavery was finally abolished, slaves received no apology and the slave-owners often received a minimum of £50 per slave in compensation. The slave-owners received paid compensation. But you say there is equality.
I live in a country that when a well-known television presenter says the racist n-slur, on air, he keeps his job .I live in the 21st century, where the only understanding I can get about the story behind my heritage comes from my own parents, where the only times I can see people who look like me on screen and aren’t portrayed in a degrading, racially comic, stereotypical way is on YouTube. The caricatures on television teaches us that we are brash, aggressive deficient at English and poor. But you say there is equality.
Who would want to black? In the few instances coloured people made an appearance on my television, they were always the criminals, the delinquents, the poor or had a funny accent everyone could laugh at. Obviously no way someone who wasn’t white could be educated, wealthy or even just a generally good person.

But still, you love your jazz music, your fried chicken. Please, enjoy your holidays to the Caribbean, your corn rows and Morgan Freeman.



Emergencies are a funny thing. A few days ago, I was out with a couple of “friends” (this in quotation marks because a) I didn’t really know all of them and b) they are no longer my friends) and we came across an elderly lady lying face down in an alleyway. I automatically assumed there was a problem seeing as this woman was quite old and she had an overturned shopping bag on the floor next to her. We all rushed over and asked her what had happened. She replied “I was just walking down this road and I fainted. I have a knee problem so I can’t get up.” Then she started to become a bit aggressive, saying things like “get away from me!” And “I don’t know you!” Now apparently, one of the people I was with had seen her around, he told me that her name was Lorna and she did this all the time. I didn’t really think this made the situation any less serious so I tried to call an ambulance. In the meantime, two of my “friends” were trying to convince this old lady, who was obviously not in the best state, that they were brother and sister and that she was famous.

Anyway, after frantically trying to remember what the UK emergency number was, I finally got hold of someone who could help. I answered all the basic questions (How old is the victim? Is she breathing? What is her name? Does she have any abdominal pain? Is she able to talk? What is your address?), I was told “According to your analysis of the situation, you do not need an ambulance. For further assistance, please call the NHS number.)

I was shocked. Completely shocked. There was an old lady lying on the floor (by this time she was no longer responding to us) and “according to my emergency, I did not NEED an ambulance.” Thanks, British health service.

It took another two calls on separate phones to finally get an ambulance, of which I was even more shocked by the attitude of the health worker. He was blasé, coming up to us and audibly stating “Yep, I know you,” and continuing to tell us a story about how once she had ended up in New Cross (a town about 30 minutes from where we were). Then he half-heartedly got her address then told us we could go. 

Was I really that wrong and optimistic to assume we would get adequate help the FIRST time we called an ambulance?

Was I really that wrong and optimistic for being disgusted when my friends were laughing and filming this poor old woman? 

And was I really that wrong and optimistic for expecting that the health worker assigned to help the situation would actually be HELPFUL? 

If so, then I really don’t feel safe.


That one thing you did to me that one time.

That one thing you did to me, that one time. Do you remember? I do. I don’t think I’ll forget about it soon. I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want to seem petty and childish. But, that one thing you did to me, that one time? I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, I never really let it go. When you tell a joke, I’ll laugh. If you compliment me, I’ll smile and thank you. It’s just, that one thing you did to me, that one time? It’s the only thing on my mind. Because, as it turns out, it wasn’t only that one thing, that one time. You’ve done so many little things, and they gnaw at me at night. I don’t tell you because I don’t get hurt. I’m not sensitive. I have a thick skin. Well I’m meant to anyway. And if, all of a sudden, that’s not true… Maybe you won’t like me anymore. So, that’s why. That’s why I never told you about that thing you did to me, that one time. Because it was just a joke, not to be taken seriously.


things shy people hate.

things shy people hate.

  • Being introduced as shy. 

Stop. Just don’t do it. Do you think that person is unable to recognise someone’s personality traits alone? By doing this, you forbid them from being anything but shy, making it like they are contradicting or betraying you if they even try to be openly excited, or loud, or even happy.

  • Not inviting them to places because you think they won’t enjoy it. 

There is a 67% possibility that they will say no but then there is also a 33% chance they will say yes and if you don’t even try to ask them then it will just make them think that you don’t want to hang out with them and make them retreat into their turtle shells.

  • Being asked, “Why are you so shy?”

I don’t know why I am shy, if I did I wouldn’t be. While I figure out my life, please don’t keep pestering me with why’s because it just reminds me of my flaws and let’s me know it’s super noticeable.

  • Don’t laugh at my awkwardness.

Why would you do this? I don’t understand in what world would this be acceptable?? It’ll just make me feel even awkwarder and trip over my words and want to hibernate forever.
I think that concludes my organised slightly rant. Sorry it was kinda short and kinda bad. Thank you so much for 500+ followers 💟💟


2am thoughts.

I prefer the sunset to the sunrise. I am not mentally or physically ill. The most expensive thing I ever bought was a kindle. I don’t have a job. I am still in school. I’m a 50% introvert, 50% extrovert, it depends on my energy levels. When I see my body, there are some things I wish I could change. A song that I feel deeply is ‘Sweet Disposition – The Temper Traps’. I felt most alive running from a group of scary, older teens, laughing out loud with my friends. I’m not confident wearing a bikini. I find it hard to look people in the eye so I try extra hard and overcompensate. Nothing extremely terrible has happened to me so far. Nothing extremely wonderful has happened to me so far. My favourite part of my personality is, even if I don’t succeed, I’ll always try to make people laugh. My least favourite part of my personality is that if I’m in a bad mood, I’ll take it out people who have nothing to do with the situation. My favourite quote (at the moment) is “that is the definition of faith – acceptance of that which we imagine to be true, that which we cannot prove.” I have relationships with all genders. I have relationships with all sexualities. I have a wobbly relationship with my father. I have a warm relationship with my mother. I don’t have siblings. My only near death experience has been tripping over two stairs. I don’t know anyone who has taken their own life. I’ve never tried to take my own life. I 50/50 follow the Mary Magdalene/Holy Grail conspiracy theory. I respect the UK government but not the way the country is run. Not all my friendships are healthy. I’m currently fighting with a friend. I’m jealous of a friend for her easy going attitude. I believe in the illuminati. I don’t believe any celebrities are associated with the illuminati. When I’m nervous I scratch my skin or bite my lips or pull my hair or pace. I make sure people can’t tell when I’m sad. I sometimes express my true feelings. There are things I’ve never told anyone. I’ve committed four illegal acts. At age 5, I wanted to be a chef. I am the product of a broken relationship. I am a bastard (in the most literal sense of the word). I have been raised by both parents. I have brown eyes, black hair and dark brown skin. I can speak French, English, some Spanish and am learning Chinese. I try not to conform to societies standards. I cry more often than people think. I tell people what I think. I am not comfortable recovering compliments. I am more comfortable giving compliments. I can’t see very well so I have to wear very strong glasses. I have been wearing braces for three months. I try to keep up with current events. The last thing I have heard on the news is the subject of the migrants trying to cross the euro tunnel into the UK and the response of the UK government saddens me. Today I visited my grandma in the countryside near Calais. I have not slept well recently. I have hurt someone because I was hurting before. I’ve ended friendships before because they’ve been detrimental to the both of us. Someone has stopped me from hurting myself before. I like my laugh. I am a preparing for an apocalypse, mostly likely from a virus. I am an agnostic. I like to watch true crime movies. I would like to raise a family in England. I believe in marriage. I can’t remember the nicest thing someone has ever said to me. I was never able to keep a diary. I think if I did, some people would be hurt by it. My favourite movies are The Ciderhouse Rules and 500 Days of Summer. I try to look after myself. I have a birthmark the shape of a Nike tick on my right ankle. I try to put others first. I was happy today. I think I am loved by my friends and family.


the prom queen is dead

the prom queen is dead
couldn’t deal with it all
so shot herself in the head

took her longer than you’d think         
to realise she hated her reflection       
in the mirror above the sink 

turns out her high school lover 
should’ve been left behind 
          instead of allowed to hover 

and that little plastic crown?
               just as fake as her friends               
albeit cheaper than her gown 

so just keep in mind                             the prom queen is dead
                    and you’ve been left behind


the outside world


   I don’t quite have social anxiety. I don’t quite have social phobia. I think a lot of people see me as loud, confident and some maybe even think I voice my opinion too freely. That’s because when I’m passionate about a subject, I want to share that passion.

A couple of years ago, after returning from a birthday party for one of my dad’s friends, I overheard him saying to his girlfriend “yeah, we’re both quite shy.”, the we in question being him and I. I’m not sure why, but I resented this. 

I knew full well that it was true, that when I saw other kids my age I preferred to look down at my iPod or book because that’s what felt safer and that meeting new people made me so uncomfortable that it made me literally tremble. But I wanted to be outgoing and confident and funny. I knew I could be that person and I wanted to reflect that into reality but I just couldn’t transfer that version of me anywhere else but inside my head.

I had to be that person. So I changed myself. After going through a crappy time where I cried whenever someone said something the slightest bit offensive and full on fighting with people if they did something to make me angry, I just stopped.

Instead of crying, I laughed. Instead of fighting, I walked away. But then something happened. Now that I had completely disregarded my emotions, I kind of lost any for others as well. I didn’t emphasise, just got pissed off. Jesus, I was the literal definition of passive aggressive. But under all that anger and bitchiness, I was still that girl who got emotionally distressed by something as simple as meeting someone new.

If I was introduced to a new person, I’d get extremely worried that they’d think I’m awkward or weird or simply not nice to be around. That stressed me out a lot. But I forced myself to keep that inside, and smile, and talk loudly. Before I got braces, I didn’t smile with my mouth open because I was ashamed of my teeth so I used to smile really wide with my mouth closed. I did this to seem friendly and welcoming but turns out it just looked like a serial killer on crack. 

Anyway after that plan had crashed and burned, during this time I had somehow managed to accumulate a group of friends who I could actually trust and “be myself” around.

These are pretty much the only people I really talk to and confide in, although I don’t think they are even aware of that. I try to be friendly with everyone (apart from a few sworn enemies) but I don’t think that many people truly know much about me. Apart from my tight friendship group, relationships with people outside that don’t usually last long and I’m often left feeling uncomfortable about the things that person knows about me now that we’re no longer friends. When I’m close to someone, even if it’s for a short period of time, I tend to overshare (and now on this blog I guess I’m doing that on a bigger scale) which isn’t a very good idea when you don’t even truly know you own identity.

I think I have a lot to work on.