maybe we are supposed to meet the wrong people

maybe we’re not meant to be

maybe we are satelites

maybe we are the lucky ones

maybe we’re friends maybe we’re more

maybe we are all cabinets of wonders

maybe we are meant to meet the wrong people

maybe we’re each others soulmates



When did we allow how we see our bodies to be dictated by a set of moronic ideals that stray from our natural and healthy present state? And why do we continue to force stupid standards down our own throats, making little children believe no one will love them if they don’t look the the supermodels on the cover of Vogue, because they don’t know even the supermodels have been airbrushed and photoshopped. Why are women shunned for selling sex and yet there is no one condemning the men who create the demand and employ them for their services? Even worse, why is there more awareness around prostitutes than the sickeningly ever-flourishing industry of sex-trafficking. Homosexuality is illegal in Pakistan and can be punished by death, yet there is no law protecting men and transexuals from being raped by “straight’ men. Men have no legal protection against rape. And sadly, even in the countries where this is recognized as a clear violation of human rights, men will often be shamed into not coming forward to the police.But all of this isn’t important, didn’t you hear? Kylie Jenner and Tyga got a new puppy.


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.


‘colourblind’ is a sad joke.

Please don’t be colourblind. Be fascinated by the rich tones of my skin. Watch in awe as the sun give my face a glorious sheen. Shiver with pleasure as you contemplate the limitless bounds of race. And in turn, I will marvel at the perfect pallor of your skin. I will wonder endlessly about the flawless canvas which is your colour. And like a child, I will sit wide-eyed, giggling with ecstasy as I come across more and different physical appearances. All different, but all beautiful. So please, don’t be colourblind; rather, embrace the varying features of our amazing species.


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.


liebster award

ok first, thank you so much to Quiet Alison for the nomination, I really appreciate it! 

Onto the questions *drumroll*

1. What is your proudest moment?

Wow, this is a hard one. It’s quite sad to admit but I just haven’t really done much in my life so far. I’ve done things I wish I hadn’t and others which I’m too lazy to care about. I guess I’m proud of the moment when I realised that the most important thing is to just be happy with yourself and if you’re not, make sure you do things that will bring you there.

2. What is your favourite colour?

Ok, once again I’m going to talk for too long about this. I have a few colours I really like (blue, yellow, grey) but at the moment green is by far my favourite because this weather is making me associate green with cool grass for picnics (+ just nature in general) and lime slushies.

3. If you could be any fruit, what would you be and why?

Definitely a kiwi – it’s bright, green, yummy and lives in hot countries. What more could you want?

4. Which way do you smile 😊 or :)?

I’ll just show you my recent emojis:


5. Favourite animal and why?

Well this used to be Dolphins and I always wanted to swim with them but then I found out that they rape other sea mammals so that dream crashed and burned. It is now alpacas purely because they’re so damn chill. Here’s a picture for you: 

6. What do you like about blogging?

The fact that it gives me time to prepare my answers instead of having to talk to real life people and having to think of things on the spot which would ultimately end up with me spouting crap.

7. You’re at a cafe, what drink would you buy?


8. What makes you laugh?

Well I’m not exactly a tough crowd and pictures of baby goats are a weakness for me

9. What do you find beautiful?


10. What is your favourite quote?

Yeah, this is another thing about me that changes everyday but we’ll go with this one for now

“Silence isn’t silent especially when it catches you alone. It speaks, screams, is deafening, until the only things you hear are the truths you block out by talking and laughing.”

Ok i should probably go to bed now 



“I’m sitting in a coffee shop alone. Where are all the witty, feminist, art boys and why aren’t they falling in love with me?”

My thoughts about 7 hours ago and I’m beginning to think John Green lied to me seeing as I can’t seem to come across anyone near Augustus Waters. Maybe the problem is I’m nowhere near Hazel Grace but surely there should be enough metaphors for everyone? If not, I’m disappointed..

Eh, I’ll just carry on hibernating in my room with a schedule that consists solely of tumblr, eating food and making horrendously bad edits.

Bye everyoneee