Parisian drugs.

Last summer, I brought a friend to Paris with me for a séjour comprised of five days, planning to see all the sights we could possibly cram into that short week. (Despite my going back there every five months or so after moving from France to Britain when I was five, I never took the tine to appreciate the hotspots of the city.) If I’m honest, I’ve always preferred the UK to Paris (something about the ethics and culture) but it was completely different when I brought someone else along for the ride, the famous city being placed under the microscope. It became even clearer that Paris isn’t the picture-perfect fairyland you’ve been lead to believe. Turns out the Eiffel Tower is just a heap of metal and the rats that skitter under the métro tracks aren’t as friendly as the ones Disney sketched out. The aroma of beautiful, artisan coffee is soon replaced by the stench of ashy cigarettes, and trust me, the graffiti hurriedly sprawled on any kind of free space quickly becomes a lot less ‘artistic’ and a lot more distasteful. 
On one particularly hot afternoon, after an unpleasantly sticky métro ride, we spilled out onto the streets of paris and only wandered about 200 metres before I saw a sight that has been burned into my brain since. A homeless man was hobbling past us, his sign in one hand and his other weathered hand desperately clutching a syringe. Now the homeless population of France is disgustingly high and shockingly visible in everday life, so (unfortunately) this wasn’t the aspect of this disturbing sight that shook me so much. I was astounded that he was carrying on something so unsustainable, regardless of whatever position you are in, especially in his situation. Acknowledging that this massive issue could possibly have been the cause of this (financial and emotional) mess to begin with, this was one of the first time I fully began to understand the devastating effects of drug use.

What you don’t know.

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. 

Madness

“The only thing he knew about was madness, which gave him a natural affinity with eccentrics and the rejects of society, but did not prepare him for the outside world.”

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.

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.

my childhood

So I was just contemplating my life and decided to put it down on paper (screen?), it feels odd writing about something so personal as I’ve never really thought about it before.
My parents were never married and split up soon a few years after my birth (when they were both just 21). Until I was about 3 years old, we all lived in Paris. This was when they realised they didn’t really love each other (even though I’ve asked many times precisely why they broke up, they’ve always both replied “we just realised we weren’t right for each other” or “ask [insert opposite parent].”

After it dawned on them that they didn’t have a romantic future, my mum decided to move to England where she’d always dreamed of living, simply saying that it would be easier for her to become a teacher here, while my dad stayed in France, working at ARVAL (I’ll be honest, to this day I still don’t know exactly what he does).

I don’t remember it very clearly but I know that the situations I was placed in after weren’t ideal. I was told to choose which parent I wanted to live with, the movie cliché which turned out be an easy decision seeing as my young age meant I had little consideration for either of my parents’ emotions. I had to stay with my dad in France while my mum built a home for me in the UK which was both emotionally and financially stable.

I have vague memories of going to nursery in France where I was likened to a frog by a much prettier girl and the French donuts I always got on the way home, always ending up covered in dusty sugar.

After a few months, I emigrated to England with my mum and after co-renting for a while in Brixton, we moved yet again to Greenwich, the area in which I went to primary school and currently live now. 

I think it’s pretty easy to tell that the beginning of my childhood was not founded in stability and seeing as I could not speak any English when I first arrived in Britain, the fact that I was barely able to communicate with most people around me meant I was automatically categorised as “shy”.

In France, I was noisy and confident (for a 4 year old) but here, I had nothing to say, simply because I couldn’t say. 

My primary school definitely wasn’t the best education wise, in fact it could definitely be classed amongst the worst, but it was diverse and accepting and at the beginning that was all that mattered. 

The first few years went fairly quickly when suddenly I began facing some problems. I wouldn’t always agree with people on things and I often voiced my opinion a bit too clearly and I think I must’ve pissed some people off.

I started being kind of left out of things and if I did something wrong, however small, it would be pointed out and ridiculed in the playground. I wasn’t invited to birthday parties or sleepovers yet when it came to my birthday I was reprimanded by the very people who had excluded me. There’s one incident that will forever stick with me:

It was a sunny day so I’d gone into school wearing a white and red dress. I was in the playground alone, doing something mundane like hopscotch or skipping when a group of girls in my year approached me. They had come to confront me about the utterly stupid and harmless fact that my dress had straps. According to them, that wasn’t allowed. Although I was internally questioning their authority, I wasn’t particularly bothered and just said ok and moved on. However, they took it upon themselves to follow me all around the playground repeating themselves over and over until eventually they were all running after me and I consequently burst into tears. 

A teacher finally saw what happened (too little, too late), separated them and brought me up to her classroom. 

After this she established (all on her own, may I add) that I was being bullied. I was surprised. Even though these girls sometimes made me feel bad or sad, I never really saw it as them bullying me, I just kind of thought “oh, I’d rather they not do that.”

I guess I was also surprised because people couldn’t really be bullied in real life, could they? That was the sort of things that happened in the movies, not to real people, not to me.

Even now looking back, I’m hesitant to say they were bullying, I just feel like they were some stupid girls who took their spite and boredom a little too far and unfortunately I was in the way. 

I don’t know if this happened because they simply didn’t like me.

And I don’t know if this happened because the problem was with them.

But all I need to know, is that if that happened now, I would not take their shit. And to be honest, I think that’s all I need.

the final quote

“‘Independence’ is the luxury of all those people who are too confident, and busy, and popular, and attractive to be just plain old ‘lonely’. Because being lonely is just so banal, so shaming, so plain and dull and ugly.”

So I’ve noticed people take ‘independent’ a lot better than ‘alone’, ‘loveless’ and ‘unwanted’. Funny that, I guess honesty isn’t the best policy. It’s much easier to put the truth in a pretty box with a bow on it than its pure, albeit ugly, form.

But the whole “soul mate” thing kind of throws me. I’ve got one person in this big world who is perfect – made for me even? You’ve got to admit, it’s a bit hard to believe.  

I’ve had too many crushes to count and to be completely honest with you, none of them have amounted to much. The scenarios in my head always turned out to be better than real life.. Oh dear.

Here are the rules for the challenge!

1. Post 1 quote for 3 days (can be your own or from other sources.

2. Nominate 3 bloggers to participate per post.

3. Thank the person who nominated you!

I’d like to nominate:

will bott

busidh

and anyone who’d like to this challenge 🙂

Fear.

what am I scared of? That’s not really a hard one. I’m scared of the mouse that lives in my kitchen. I’m scared of getting my braces tightened at the dentist. I’m scared of getting exam results at school. I’m also scared of dropping my crappy iPhone 4S and cracking the screen.

But my real fear, the one that eats me up inside is that my life will become the sad songs I’m so fond of listening to at night.

 I’m scared that my mum will die before her time, before I’m ready to face the world alone.

 I’m scared that I’ll become the lead in a romantic comedy with no romance and be the only one laughing at my jokes. 

I’m so, so scared that I’m wasting my life – unfulfilled and wasting potential. 

Because at the moment, what am I doing to prevent that?

I spend so much time in bed, I surprise myself when I go outside. My relationship with my family is barely tangible and needs a lot of work – work I’m not putting in. There are so many other problems which I haven’t even admitted to myself yet. 

And still I expect the world to turn me into something else, something new and improved. For it to swallow me and spit me out as something better, as if I haven’t quite grasped that life’s a bitch.

But I have. I read the news. I hear about the earthquakes, tsunamis and hurricanes. I hear about the terrible conditions people have to live in, in poverty and death. And, I hear about the intelligent, kind and revolutionary who have next to nothing, no education, no rights, and no money who still manage to deal with it and do so much. Giving back to humanity when God has given them nothing.

So why am I searching for a purpose? 

The worst kind of person is someone who has standards for other people but doesn’t live up to them themselves and I’m scared that’s what I’m turning into.

That is my real fear.

those simple feelings of “ugh”

it’s summer so why aren’t I feeling warm and breezy? Maybe it’s due to the constant, wet drizzle of British rain, or just the fact that I’m still in school.

Whatever it is, it sucks. Big time.

I could put that down as the reason why I haven’t written in a while but the truth is, I’ve just been lazy.

I’m pretty sure I hit a new low last night, getting out of my bed every 20 minutes or so and then opening a can of coke at almost 1 AM just for the sake of having something to do. Evidently, this didn’t go too well with my sleeping schedule – especially as I have to get up at around 6 to go to school.

I’m not sure if I can last till Saturday for the holidays…

Freestyle writing challenge

Thanks to Luna for the nomination, this has been really fun! Everyone go look at her blog, it’s amazingly well-written and interesting!

The rules are:

1. Open a blank Document

2. Set a stop watch or your mobile phone timer to 5 or 10 minutes, whichever challenge you prefer.

3. Your topic is at the foot of this post BUT DO NOT SCROLL DOWN TO SEE IT UNTIL YOU ARE READY WITH YOUR TIMER!!!

4. Once you start writing do not stop until the alarm sounds!

5. Do not cheat by going back and correcting spelling and grammar using spell check (it is only meant for you to reflect on your own control of sensible thought flow and for you to reflect on your ability to write with correct spelling and grammar.)

6. You may or may not pay attention to punctuation or capitals.

7. At the end of your post write down the number of words to give an idea of how much you can write within the time frame.

8. Put the whole document onto your post and nominate 5 others and give them a new topic. Remember to copy paste the rules in!

My topic was Clouds and here’s what I came up with:
Clouds. It’s fast approaching summer (some people say it’s already arrived but seeing as it rained yesterday I beg to differ). For me clouds represent whatever you want them to. If you look up into the sky, and try as hard as you can, you can transform it into anything you want. A dragon, an ice cream or even a new Apple laptop. 

But clouds can be something else. Clouds can be the sadness that hovers over you wherever you go, the cold, wet drizzle that never seems to stop. It follows you everywhere, whether you’re alone in your bedroom or at a party full of people and there’s nothing you can do about it. An umbrella won’t fix it. You have to dig deep into yourself and look hard to transform that cloud from itself to a rainbow.

(Word Count: 126)

I’m not too proud of the quality of that post but there you go.

I nominate Taylor!