I don’t have nicknames yet people still try to make it a thing. I have books on my shelf begging to be read yet I still find myself buying more. I doodle often and somehow they all end up looking like I tried to copy a five year old’s finger painting. And failed. When I can’t sleep at night, I go over the following day’s schedule again and again, trying to smooth out wrinkles in my plans. I try to save greeting cards and and letters but I always end up losing them. Actually, I lose a lot of things. When I go into a place with people I know, the grandiosity of my entrance will depend on my energy levels. I don’t look at myself in the mirror that often, but I feel like it is too much. Not because it is a vain or self-absorbed thing to do, but because I feel so much more confident when I’m not constantly reminded of the flaws in my physical appearance. A guilty pleasure I enjoy way too much to give up is internet (not that I have a lot of it, my mobile data is close to non-existent and I have no wifi at home). I read the newspaper almost everyday, skipping most of it but getting really absorbed in articles about things like feminism, LGBTQ+ rights, racism and current politics. The sports section is something that is never even browsed through. I’d like to be less stubborn but that will probably never change. Let’s just pretend it’s a good quality for now.The scariest insect I’ve encountered is a crane fly. Why do you need that many legs? I’m mostly likely to engage confrontation. If I’m upset about something I won’t let it sit, I’d much rather talk about it than pretend it doesn’t bother me. I’m s creature of habit. The last time I pushed my physical limits was so long ago I can’t remember. I have a lot of acquaintances and few very close friends. I think about death a lot, not in a morbid way – more philosophically. It amazes me that turtles have yet to run for presidency yet Donald Trump is a serious candidate. I would prefer someone be straight up with me then to temper their words. I respect propel who are outspoken with their beliefs, as long as they don’t force it upon others. My perfect study arrangement is alone in my room. I sleep on my side. My favourite city is San Juan in Puerto Rico, however, I think many flaws would come to light if I lived there 24/7. Much like anywhere else. Ignorance is not bliss. I don’t think anything is unforgivable but I find it difficult to forgive. It’s even harder to forgive myself for past personal failures. I’m sure I have any convictions I’d be willing to die for. I think it’s extremely important to be honest with yourself. I am a messy person, both literally and figuratively.
I am so. Fucking. Ignorant.
Ignorance may be bliss but when you finally snap out of it, it’s fucking shell shock. I’d like to think I’m aware of what’s going on in the world, what’s going on with the people of the world, but somehow, somehow, I managed to block out all the pain and hatred, to selectively block it out of my mind.
Well now I’ve had a reality check. So why the fuck am I complaining? The iPhone 4S isn’t good enough for me, there are people who have no way of conacting loved ones. My room isn’t warm enough, remember walking past the people sleeping outside? I haven’t got enough money to buy that dress. There a people who can’t afford female hygiene kits for that time of the month, like that worn out advert on the tube says, “After being stripped of family and her home, don’t let her be robbed of her dignity.” I get pissed when my mum won’t let me go to a concert, there are children who can’t do anything but curl up into a ball and cry when their parents repeatedly abuse them.
So what am I going to do about it?
Nothing, as usual.