Writer baby, you could be the quote [Love, pt. 2]

[Shitpost – 4:30am]

They say the only people awake at this hour are the lonely and the loved, but I’m here because my caffeine buzz is wearing off and I wish I was in love. Right now I feel like I am, but with no one in particular, possibly someone who doesn’t exist, and it’s frustrating. Why am I talking about love so much? Everyone around me is getting into relationships, getting married, and, honestly, being single is getting boring real quick. But I also see people getting into the wrong relationships and just generally being unhappy; I’m tryna stress how important a foundation is. No more time wasting. I only want something if it’s real.

My state of mind right now is equivalent to being intoxicated in some way, so it’s about to get real raw and embarrassing. I feel high. I’m also listening to old J Cole and Miguel and I feel like aunt flo is about to visit, so my head is a real shitstorm right now. Soppy bitch mode currently turned on full blast.

The sun’s about to rise and I’m not tiptoeing around my thoughts; when everything is silent and still, we’re forced into introspection, we have to face everything about ourselves head on. It’s painful, it’s liberating, there’s something sublime about it. I’ve dashed anxiety out of the window, focused too much on being happy with myself and, in the process, forgot to really get back into my head. Not trying to fall back into bad habits, but here we are. I got me up all night, down and out with these love songs. Can’t lie, I missed this.

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Something that she ain’t seen yet [Hey Assbutt: Love, pt.1]

I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve done a hey assbutt, aka one long bullshit rant. I guess I’ve kind of gotten my shit together in the sense that I don’t have the time to complain anymore, but alas; this part of me will continue to thrive.

Let’s talk about the L word. We all like to think about and not talk about the L word. We all like to talk about and not think about the L word. The L word is a stressful thing. I’m gonna do it.

To avoid confusion, I’m talking about ~romantic~ love. Gonna bump some MJ and begin.

Honestly, what even is love?

Platonic love is simple. One of the strongest feelings ever, because you don’t even have to like the person to love them, to care about them, to want the best for them and to be there for them always.

Romantic love is more annoying, but I haven’t felt it. I once thought I did, but in hindsight, I was terribly, inconceivably, dangerously wrong and it makes me nauseous. I have a good idea of what it is, and I would love to confirm it, but I’m not about to risk my heart for the wrong person. I, too, am cringing at the soppiness of that sentence so I’ll bring it down a notch right about now.

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No world’s tiniest violin song [Things I don’t fuck with]

Hello, I haven’t posted in almost two months because I am useless. But I’m here now, making a comeback in the most fitting fashion – by complaining.

Let me give you a little update, though, particularly on the little subject  that is my brain. I feel like after making some changes a few months ago (that I may or may not write a post on soon), I’ve become a completely different person. I am so positive, overall a lot happier with myself and life in general and it’s siq. I have adopted the attitude of ‘shit happens, life goes on’, as opposed to my previous ‘pick apart and analyse every single thing that has gone wrong ever, and do this until I go crazy’.

But the only thing is that I’m buzzing with all this positive energy and nobody to share it with. I’m finding myself craving some emotional connection somewhere, not necessarily romantic (and I’m trying to find it over a zoot). More often than not I have this strong desire to just sit and talk. Just talk and listen. Mostly listen. It’s not that myself isn’t enough, it’s that I literally have all this extra happiness going to waste, you know? If I could clone myself, I would. Science side of wordpress, make it happen.

But for now, let me stop being a soppy bitch and bring it back down to reality.  It’s not all rainbows and Nando’s, because shit pisses us all off in real life. I’m gonna tell you mine in the hopes that you never bring them my way, thanks x

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Controversial opinon: Religion [Shitpost]

Something this depraved is not a product of a loving god.

I’m gonna talk about religion; not just about my religion specifically, so I don’t want anybody in the comments asking me why I’m not condemning ISIS. That ain’t my job, bish. I’m talking about religion generally: the whole concept of God, of divine books, of the afterlife.

I am struggling with religion.

Haram police, look away, because I’m about to reveal something: sometimes I wish I was Atheist. The complete hecking truth is that sometimes I wish that I could believe in nothing. I wish I believed that once we die, we’re just left to rot in the ground and turn into fertiliser because that makes everything so much easier. But I can’t. I wish I could be left to my own devices and know that everything I’m doing is a product of my own decisions and who I’ve grown into, but I can’t. I know that I’m living based on a book, based on a religion that I so strongly believe in that I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. I so strongly believe in it, yet I don’t follow it completely. I hate feeling like I’m scared to die simply because of what happens afterwards. Death itself doesn’t bother me. I’d have probably killed myself a long time ago if it wasn’t a straight ticket to hell, so I guess I gotta thank religion for that.

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The Versatile Blogger Award

Yes, you read that right. All that time spent indoors and trying to create a semblance of an online presence. God loves ugly x

Sooooo I was nominated by Abbie (who is so hecking nice, follow her on everything right now) for the Versatile Blogger Award and seeing that made me go ‘!!!!!’.

I’m really, really picky with everything in life. Just like generally. I’m picky with what I wear, with who I talk to, with the movies I watch. I’m not picky with food tho. Don’t ever ask me where I want to eat because I don’t know!!! I DON’T KNOW!!!!! I AM A FAT GANNET I’LL EAT ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!

I am also picky with the things that I read; if I don’t like the writing style or the content is too uniform and boring, I’ll just never visit that blog again. Soz. So listen to me when I tell you to check out Abbie’s blog: I love her writing style and really look forward to reading what she posts next. I’m probably gonna have a go at those body scrubs cos ain’t nobody got time to throw £500 at Lush.

I never knew about the ‘blogger community’ until Twitter, and I’ve learnt that this is one that involves support and positivity. It’s so much nicer than catty, bitchy competitiveness that you see everywhere (amongst girls, really). Hopefully more guys get into blogging; it’s cooler than you think. Everyone is cool. Nobody tears anybody down. And that’s exactly what this award about. I suppose I’m a ‘versatile’ blogger in that I’m a dumb idiot who doesn’t have a theme and instead vomits out all the shit that lies in my head. Oops.

Anyway. So I gotta give you seven facts about myself. This is “let’s go around the room and say something interesting about ourselves”, isn’t it? Alright.

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Eleven movies you need to watch before you die

Haha, Eleven, get it, because I still haven’t watched season 2 of Stranger Things.

Winter is upon us, (yes, Winter, because it’s getting really cold really fast) and it is thus time to break out the fat socks and double up your duvets. Yes, you can choose to stay in on a Friday night and not feel guilty about it. Yes, you can get out of bed at 12pm on Sunday and get back in at 8pm. Yes, it is time to eat a doner kebab and go straight to bed.

What can I do on a Friday night, k, if I’m not going out clubbing?‘ you ask? Well, friends, here is where I arrive in my usual grandiose style and hand you a list of the best movies ever made. I urge you to steadily make your way through these, savour every single minute, and finally present to me a 1,000 word essay on what you liked and didn’t like.

We don’t know when our last days are, so get cracking please x
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But that doesn’t make it any easier to get through [shitpost]

Hey.

Welcome to my night time, coffee-fuelled shit talking post. I haven’t done one of these in a while, but if you’re new to my blog, know that these are probably the most honest and raw posts I’ll ever write. That’s why they’re rare. Sometimes it’s in the form of poetry, other times, like now, it’s just word vomit. I don’t edit these. It’s the time where I’m wired but also tired, and when I’m listening to my night time songs.

Alright

One weird thing I’ve been called is ‘strong’. Strong because I can let things go, strong because I can stand by my beliefs, strong because I don’t fall for every guy that talks to me. I don’t know. I don’t know if I like being called strong, because there are certain expectations that come with that label. Am I allowed to cry? Am I allowed to fight for a guy who doesn’t give a shit? Am I allowed to have panic attacks? Am I allowed to be too nervous to walk into a crowded place sometimes?

Because I do all of those things too. And sometimes, that label gets in the way.

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8 reasons weed should be legalised

This is something I’m so! Very! Passionate! About. It’s not something I have on my CV under my interests, but I sure as goddamn hell don’t see the problem with including it. Before you make any assumptions, I’m not a stoner. I’m just also not an idiot.

For any potential employers, don’t read this and think I’m a giant drug lord whose life is a mess. Instead, think that I just have common sense and good morals; just because the government profits off your alcohol and cigarette addiction doesn’t mean they’re better than any other drug. It definitely doesn’t make you a saint. It definitely, definitely, doesn’t make you better than someone who writes a post advocating the decriminalisation of marijuana.

I think it’s absurd that ‘going out for drinks’ as part of a work do is normal, but going out to  ‘bun a zoot’ as part of that work do is frowned upon (and illegal). I think it’s even more absurd that you’re probably going to be outcast if you don’t participate in the social drinking! Like me. I also find it quite ironic how people call those who smoke weed occasionally ‘druggies’, but we don’t call the occasional drinker an ‘alcoholic’? Hmm…

The stigma is real. I understand that it really only comes from the fact that weed is illegal and thus demonised; suddenly it has created an atmosphere that links the drug to dodgy street deals and DEATH, DESTRUCTION AND PRISON. That isn’t the case though, is it? We know very well that nobody has died from smoking joints everyday (I’m looking at you, benson & hedges), and nobody has been violently intoxicated and beat somebody up (I’m looking at you, Vodka and beer). You know those people who get blackout drunk but then act disgusted at the thought of weed?????? Yea.

Anyway here are some reasons weed should definitely 100% be legalised.

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Taking off my hijab? [NOT clickbait]

 

I’m taking off my hijab.

 

I don’t know when, but it’s probably definitely happening and sometime very soon. I’m not going to make a big deal out of it, I’m just going to do it. And you’ll see me out with my scraggly hair and old highlights because I haven’t had a haircut in five years.

After I speak to my old Quran teacher tho.

I’m gonna make this clear though: I know the hijab is compulsory. And I am still very much Muslim.

I haven’t just decided that it isn’t compulsory anymore. I know it is. But I’m not ready, and for the past couple of years I’ve just been trying to convince myself that I made the right decision. And now I’m finally ready to admit that I’m not happy in it.

Get ready for a long read because apparently I have to EXPLAIN EVERY SINGLE PERSONAL LIFE CHANGING PERSONAL PERSONAL DECISION to everyone.

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We don’t ignite

‘Hmmm,’ she wonders, her fingers hovering over the trackpad of her brand new, photogenic rose gold Macbook. In front of her, to the right, are three pots of succulents, carefully placed next to a photo frame with nothing but the words ‘Carpe Diem’ in a curly font. She studies the mason jar on her left, filled halfway with a strawberry milkshake, carefully mixed to the exact shade of millennial pink, to complement the walls of her room, dotted with various edgy photographs in white frames.

She hesitates as she skims through the tabs open on safari.

‘5 favourite drugstore products’

‘Makeup Revolution: Naked dupe?’

‘Living with anxiety’

’10 Lipsticks every girl needs in her makeup bag’

‘What’s in my handbag?’

‘Screw it,’ she thinks out loud. Oozing with confidence and determination, she clicks on the tab that reads “Write new post”.

10 beauty hacks

She sighs out loud, relief and pride exiting her black-choker adorned throat.


Ahem. Sorry, that was a little rude.

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