Banging...headache

“Turn my headphones up, louder”- Gotta Have It.

I am about 1,100 words into my essay and I have stopped. The thought of going to the library did cross my mind. Instead I am in my room, with a banging headache, curtains drawn and my hoodie providing warmth.

I can hear banging.

It’s 15:58pm and I am sat here starring at my Daily Milk Fruit and Nut like, “hold tight, let’s do this.”

I only hope that this essay gets done. Like, can I please bag a first for this essay? I’m even putting my phone on aeroplane mode, stunting like my phone is always popping off.

I think I just heard a sound…through my headphones. Kendrick kissing my eardrum tender with Babylon.

Hmm, yeah my thoughts are bit fragmented. I’m kind of ready to punch someone in the throat, but have no energy left in me at the same time. I kind of wish I was high on a field of daisy’s somewhere north but then I also wish I could sleep this headache away too.

The Birth of Venus- Sandro Botticelli, I love it.

Yeah, I can hear banging.

Well, erm yeah at the minute in my essay I’m arguing that audiences DO have power over programmes. It sounds bizarre, but I totally think, if it wasn’t for an audience then why create the television in the first place?

I can still hear banging.

Like, if everyone was into monogamous relationships, Fifty Shades of Grey would have no purpose as a book, let alone a film.

I should really be adding words to my essay, instead I’m here listening to SZA with a burning desire to rip my headphones apart but that would leave me in a very …awkward… position.

I can hear banging.

The only thing making me scream right now is word counts. It’s a love hate relationship, I actually love learning new theories and writing about them but I simply can’t hear myself right now.

Does anyone want to send me a nude? I want to …draw. 

Putting pen to paper

I opened up my notes app once and wrote a paragraph describing my disconnect with everything. I know, 'shits getting deep' but although I'm far from good at writing I enjoy putting my thoughts to paper.

I don't know I guess I'm just warming up my writing skills, yeh there you go that's the purpose of this blog post; preparation and practice?!

War within-

"Dream of a tyrant knocking you to the ground. Wake up from your terrible fantasy. One day the walls will crumble and porcelain dolls crack. Roof caves in and lonely you stand in a corner crying for a saviour, for a God. 

Darkness blinds you from smiling and sharing, there's a palm on your bitter mouth. A venomous volcano erupts and lava spits on every flower and blackens the earth. Charcoal flakes puncture the foot, molten rubber sticks sock to your sole. Choking on the stench of human roast, screams pierce your shadows. The soul has awoken, fluent in petrol and flames. And the brash bone cage lay silent as the insides melt away." 

I hope I didn't depress to impress!

Keep smiling- Bridesmaids

From nudes to skin tones, to skin talks

Today, I sat in a talk which I thought would influence, inspire or entice me to like my supposed career path.

Here we go...

So, as I sit trying to catch my breath as quietly and as subtly as I could, the speaker is sat on the stage with a lecturer from my university in a Newsnight fashion.

At first, I heard “being the only Asian at that time,” he instantly got my attention.

He talked a lot, the questions formed by the lecturer were shit to be honest, “who was your favourite lecturer?” for example, what a time waste. If this was 20 years back is that question still relevant now? No.

I looked around, there was a mix of males and females from all backgrounds listening in to what this talk entailed. Not going to lie, I was waiting for one question. And that one question was brought up at about 13.37 when I was just about to check my notifications on Facebook.

I threw my phone into my bag.

“So I mean, erm so like would you say that the posh Asian girl who went to posh schools and received proper education is more likely to get to where you are at now, I mean working for the BBC etc…” and he went off on a dry ending as he adjusted his choking belt around his pregnant belly.

Hold up though.

“Posh Asian girl?” 

Who’s that pls?.

My neck twitched. My curls now stuck to my lip gloss.

I thought to myself…

Is this dick for real? I’m no toff, but I’m no scrounger either. But wow, that was a big dose of “fuck you”. Number one, what the hell is “proper education”, and two I ain’t from no posh school. So suck on my dick when I sit here knowing fully well I worked my arse to get to where I am, through cultural and religious barriers. Not a silver spoon stuck up my arse and Dr Khan as my dad. I want no medal, but that was insensitive and benefited no one in the room, instead he embarrassed his toff ass and grew pink in his porky cheeks.

“So how did you feel being brown, I mean is that why you got into the positions you did...?”

Lol, “feel being brown” ??  Like it’s a symptom of God’s mishap.

“It’s not about skin colour, it’s about the cultural and social background that you come from.”

I became nostalgic of that one time (in band camp) in year 10, I was pulled into an empty room and was sat at a table of Asian girls, and this one line shrieked in my right ear “don’t end up cooking chapati, we want to see you girls in uni!!” as I sat with sweaty palms and a throat full of phlegm ready to spit at this ethnic representative authority figure.

So I guess now I class as a brown face in university, and perhaps ten years down the line I’ll be asked the exact same question about “feeling brown”. Lol

Back to this talk.

The guy went on to say how he was someone who no one had come across before, he was new something fresh. All because he was a Muslim Asian male, full of ideas to make these controversial, religiously touching and political documentaries.

Okay. I can do that without having a dick.

My conscience spoke to me.

“If you’re from a background where you know you won’t get any help, it’s better to recognise that as early as possible, it’s very important.” 

Okay... 

“If you know you’re from an immigrant background, back then no one gave a shit what you thought about."

Right...

“If you are from a certain social status, or class then you immediately fall into the trap of being disadvantaged in the world of work.”

Yes I fucking get it!

I know the reality but can you give me something to take away from this please?!

Where’s my motivation? 

(Plays Motivation by Kelly Rowland.)

What I wanted to ask before his ass left the auditorium was, “where the fuck do I fit into this?”

I'm an Asian female! Does that mean I can tick a professional’s boxes like he did?

Am I supposed to seek creativity through “keep doing what I'm doing?” cos what the fuck does that mean any more?

“The degree didn't even help me where I am now, it was taking every work experience I could.”

Someone take me!!!

You know what? It fucking sucks having all the passion but no one to push you further. No Asian female that has actually made me go “woah shit, if she can do it then so can I!” Instead I'm seeing Riz Lateef presenting the news looking pretty and Mishal Hussain talking to Syrian political figures. They are symbols of success but…. I don’t see them for who they are, I'm blinded by their BBC microphones for crying out loud!

Instead, I'm behind the bars of higher education, work experience: work for other people so that I can gain a few more bullet points under the “skills” subheading on my CV.

“The BBC employs 12.4% (BAME) staff.” That stands for Black and Asian Ethnic minority people btw.

So you tell me, whether that’s deflating or motivating?

I need my bed. Where’s bae at?

*Realises there isn't one, eats cold pizza and sways to Isaiah Rashid.*

Central London on my ones

13/05/2014

Sat on a bench in Hyde Park with the bipolar weather giving me sweats every two minutes in my Ted Baker coat.
Being careful not to sit in a sneaky puddle.

My boots are resting in the slightly pebbled path and I can feel my toes getting wet. Foreign people, actually German people walking past, the litter picker in his khaki hat walks past me. A group of eleven hench men following the path I front of me, 'ballers' I guess. And a Spanish nuclear family watching their three year old chase a squirrel round the trees. A modern looking scouts group on my left having a piggy back race and I hear a leash behind me.

Suitcases scrape as four girls walk past, their faces screaming 'i'm fucking jet-lagged'. 

Oh it's a sausage dog. There's a theme of holding big umbrellas if you're wearing a suit. And if you're not wearing a suit you're looked up and down like a dog.

All I wanted was a piss, I walked into Everbean, a cafe, that's a five minute walk from the Albemarle Gallery. That's were I was today. I was eager to visit Okafor's portrait exhibition. Stunning detail and marble floors only followed by glares and botched noses.

A typical middle class man walked in and the man at reception walked over to him only to ask if he was alright. He informed him about the gallery, the artist's history and handed him an A4 paper that listed all the portraits one by one.

Did I get one? Nah. Two women, both black walked in. Did they get one? Nah.

I think I wasn't dressed appropriately. Perhaps if I bought a blazer and some heels it would have done the trick. Or if I walked in with Gucci shades and a LV scarf. Maybe if I walked in with an Arab dad, or a white friend. Perhaps if my hair was permed straight and I spoke Queen's English. I should have done that really.

Throughout the whole day I had one conversation. One. The lovely lady without judgement asked me if I needed help. This was in the Fine Art building bear New Bond Street I think. I'm talking like I know the place. I walked past LV, Fendi, Chanel, I could go on. Audi, Ferrari and every logo. The Chalet bar, Starbucks, Pret, Eat, men, women, dogs, taxis, cabs, Bentleys, German whips. English, foreign. Italian, Arab, French, German, Iranian, Dutch, Thai Embassy. streets, grunge.

Well I pictured most of it. I am now in Hyde Park. Where there's a diversity. You need diversity. Well I need it cos I've had enough of people looking at me head to toe.

Chavs, now walk past, I quietly type cos lord knows if my phone gets taken I may just turn Solange on their asses and there is no CCTV to back me up. I'm empty inside. My belly is full of coffee and thoughts. I'm feeling really weird, like I've just fell in a pit.

It's called a thought hurricane and a storm of reflection. Damn I'm hungry.

Notes

Imma shake the Can you open the seal and lip read?

Cos your track puts me on track as we race to the line

Open up the fastener promise you I'm fast enough

Marathon man can you pass me the baton?

Handle the pace of your heart that's a trip

Of Course and the rhythm got me lost

It's so a-Maze ing

Almost skating, no half pipe cos this is the full course

Of course, I have a sweet tooth, pass me the menu...

Man what am I doing?! When I have U

And be assured I'm not playing, this ain't no footsie

saying "you ain't my Man" U best believe in my words

And the feeling that was felt from the first time

Like a dear walks for the first time

Pain at pleasure was the procedure of our Rhyme 

Preparing for the passion in my imagination for next time

But don't get it twisted cos I'd dread to lose... you're mine.

Asma's Room ft reflecting - Big Driis remix

If I said I am content with everything in life right now I'd be lying, so instead I shall say I think I am very aware of my desperation to bring some changes into my life.

It sounds dramatic, but I believe the changes will be dramatic and therefore I won't go back and change what I have just said. Enough waffling.

I came home for the Easter break as any normal person would do. Ofcourse I missed my family very much, considering moving to university means you reply on conversing with friends and total strangers most of the time. Being at home just means you can have that comfortable feeling again, that feeling where you can be lazy without feeling guilty. All my work is now complete, I just hope that I go back to some good grades in recognition of my hard work. I'm not even being cocky, it's the pure fact that I put my heart and soul into my work, whether that was a small feature or a 2,500 word count.

It's kinda hard to come home and just go on about university and the things that come with it. Firstly, the educative side then the social side and then the personal side. As a 19 year old, I feel a little more independent because you understand that not only are you more of an adult, you have to be wise with your energy. Nah, I'm not trying to say my knees are getting weaker but just on the whole I do feel like I am getting exhausted pretty quickly. Especially when you know fully well that you haven't settled anywhere yet.

Getting into university was amazing. It's just when you come home you realize there are still strings attached. You aren't away yet. Not at all. Basically being away from home is just a physical reminder that I am moving forward so the flip side is, being at home is a emotional reminder that I really ain't.

On that note, it's only wise to think positive. I have never said that in my life to be fair, I dislike the word 'positive' very much because it's like you're masquerading what you truly feel. So let me re-phrase. It's only wise to think realistically. 

This means keep myself busy and continue to build on the blocks that I can see before me.

*looks out the window and laughs*

It's just funny because I know exactly what I was doing this time last year and what an emotional waste. People say you can look back on your past and learn from your mistakes but I don't believe in that...I believe you don't learn...in fact you recognize. You recognize that you have changed. Changed for the better.

Idris Elba is now a father to Winston Elba who was born yesterday. Just thought i'd slip that in because it actually made me so happy. Like really happy...isn't that weird? Isn't it weird that someone who doesn't even know you can make you happy and they have no idea. haha.

If they are all rich, does that mean I am poor?

March

You know what, whether your name is Victoria Rose Smith or Shaniqua Glory we are all women at the end of the day.

I say this because I am just reflecting on my day you know. I attended an Asia House Fair which was held on New Cavendish Street in London. Okay, so this was actually to assist my friend Lauren who was documenting the event as part of her project. But see, that wasn't the issue because when I heard about it I was more than happy to go along.

The observing started as soon as we stepped foot into the place.

Okay first, yes the doors were thick Matt glass with golden embossed handles. As soon as you walk in you see a stall with prestige jewelry, then you just can't help but freeze as you notice the price tags screaming "£200". Anyhow, that wasn't the case either, because to be honest the place was beautiful. On your right there was a room converted into a café serving wine, wine and wine. So, as you would, we carried on walking to the next room, the door way inviting us to warm colours of browns and golds: this room represented textiles from Turkey.

Now..I am dressed in a jumper, black jeans and black trainers, Lauren was dressed in all black with a denim jacket. Our lipstick was fine, so what was the issue you ask? well...

You had Patricia on your right talking to Evangeline about her pin tucks, in front of you there was Geraldine talking to Rose about her wine and her collectibles of ceramic buttons at home. Johnathan and Henry were stood observing the paintwork of the golden staircase, Isabel was asked what she wanted from the stall of  hand made Kazakhstan scarves to which she replied "I like this one mummy" smiling and twirling without creasing her boots.

Yes, this was just entering a madhouse of elites because they had money to spend, I get it.

What I don't get is when I am told things about myself through the eyes and words of others. This is what I mean. So...I am conversing with a Japanese woman who is showcasing some hand made jewelry, very delicate and sophisticated. I decide to look at the most striking bracelet, a giant green stone was surrounded by chunky white stones and I was simply like 'dayumm' but she added "perhaps not your style".

Okay number one, you are judging by what I am wearing at that particular moment in time to suddenly know what my 'style' is. Two, was there any need? Three, why am I undermined like that?

Okay big deal, I honestly don't care, but I just wanted to add that.

Then, as I left the room a woman half my height, spectacles balancing on the tip of her nose with a full fringe bumped in to me. She looked up into my face like she was about to spit on me.

An Indian woman in a black striped suit, probably in her late 50's stood in crimson lipstick and her hair in a tight bun. We asked whether it was possible to interview her she simply tuned her back on us and said "no."

A lady behind a stall showcasing crafts from Kashmir, Sindh and India tried to tell me what India is. Do I look like I can't spell Geography? I just don't get why there was this attitude to automatically undermine us.

I will not lie, yes we stood out, not because we were walking around with a Cannon in our hands, but purely because we looked young, broke-"er" and clearly had "no idea" what these people were talking about.

Just because you can talk well, elaborate your vowels and wear cashmere doesn't mean you're more educated than me in any way. Yes, your daughter may be in private school right now, so what? Yes, your hair was cut at the salon and mine was simply brushed, so what? Yeah, I am not representing Cartier on my wrist but you are, so what? Money is a staple, the way it fuels power into people is crazy.

Elites turning their nose up at me is no bother, I don't give a crap that they have money to make it rain. I know that once I have money like that I will earn it, through means where I know I have worked hard. When I attended this even today, I looked around like..yeah but what do you do for yourself? Apart from inheritance where has the money come from? And more importantly is everything about you is money, do you still stand for anything without it?

Just this competing battle between the rich and poor is an ongoing issue. Rich people and poor people will forever shape society in one way or another. To think richer people hold more power is what sickens me, and to think poor people are powerless is just insane.

The experience was moving and empowering. You know what, it only made me want to prove people wrong even more. At the end of the day they don't know where you will be in 5 years time, your success is in your hands, not their words.

Burning desire to write a poem

He just wanna smoke and fuck, so I guess we both speak Hebrew

Now he talking my language, but would it work when I ain’t Jew?

Rents due late, and so’s your love when we come through,

In due time we’ll cash all these memories

Stack all these memories, in my mind bank full of sanity

But your back’s turned to face me,

Face screwed up, back stabbing, always injure me

Injuries that A&E can’t stitch up, see...

The threads getting thicker, my words are getting quicker,

The bloods just iron bars, pump fist I'm a prisoner

In this dark world, I walk but run to find cover

Under my cover, stand cover when my eyes close,

The only warmth was your hand and now it’s the fire that’s under me

Ash in my eyes, sting from the morgue

Where our past lays, ashes to ashes,

No dust to dust,

Cos the dust is in my lungs, I suffocate in the prison,

But the bars break-up like us,

Like me, like you, like what the fuck

Fuck feelings, flippin' weight on my sanity,

And your carcass rots as I run free. 

-Asma Qureshi

My relationship with time

I don't seem to find the time to write on my blog as frequently as I would want to, but I think that is purely because I am always busy doing other things. Also, my blog is mostly for reflection...nowadays I seem to forget to reflect.

Yes, I have faced a heavy work load over the past week and I sit to ponder, when will I find time to chill and make time for myself. Yeah I won't go on to bore you...in fact I just want to say...

I learn things everyday, it seems like I am making it up, but it's true. I experience things and when I do, I mentally take note. You know, at times we sacrifice our thought process for others, the people that we prioritize. I have always done it, maybe you have too. These people are the ones we choose to think about, isn't that weird? There's billions of people we meet on an everyday basis, people we exchange two words with or even those people who you have known for a lifetime, and suddenly they pop into your head.

It freaks us out sometimes. You then decide to carry on thinking about them, or you choose to block it out. I always pick the second option, not because I am selfish, but because I am careful. The mind is too powerful to think about someone. This is because personally, when I think, I then imagine and then I fight patience.

Reality dominates imagination. That's what kills me. No wonder my dreams are always realistic. I think it's because I don't allow myself to hallucinate 'what life would be like if...'  that thought is lethal.

One thing I do believe is that, your relationship with your time reflects you. I don't know how, and I can't explain why...I just totally believe in it. And for me I am punctual but patient. That is what I am. And with that said, I conclude by saying that...
                                                With time it'll turn out just great.

Affection and attention

Affection and attention.

If you could only choose one which one would it be?
What's more important to you, emotion or image?

You're constantly noticed for your looks, than asked how you're feeling.
And I don't mean the 'you good?' in fact I mean 'how was your day?'

Because I mean...can you remember the last person who complimented on your looks or the person who asked how you were?

Maybe you're thinking does it even matter?...I think it does.
Because it helps you answer that one question: What do you want?

And to be fair, I have never been asked that before and if I was asked that right now I know which one I'd go for. It would be affection, as attention is disposable. You reply 'thank you' and your ego grows an inch.

Affection builds, it grows and it's something real. It clears your mind, a bit like green tea. haha.
It makes you stronger. And it's pure.

Attention is addictive, the day you get 11+ likes on a Instagram picture, it only creates the expectation to get more likes next time. Poor example, but you know what I mean.

When you don't get affection you get lonely and you rely on attention.
When you don't get attention you're disappointed and it makes you angry.
But you try again and again to get attention so you end up with affection.

See...you seek attention to get affection.
You can't seek affection to get attention, because when you have affection you no longer need attention.

It's getting confusing now isn't it. Okay I'll just leave you with that. X

Why listening to Jhene Aiko made me think

Somehow I'm really connected to Jhene Aiko and I'm thinking about why.

Hmm, it's getting sunnier these days isn't it? I am sure the weather effects ones mood. Urgh, I should be getting on with so many tasks right now, I have an essay, two presentations, an evaluation and a review. The idea of writing within journalism is a daunting one, I like to talk...but putting speech into words is quite tricky. Like right now I am writing how I think...and the way I think is so random. The sentences that you have read so far don't connect at all, in fact if I gave this to my old English teacher she would re-boot her computer straight away.

Things are looking busy these days actually, and this isn't just work wise, just in general. Yeah, it's so obvious to say 'there aren't enough hours in the day' but that's not what I mean. I think there are enough hours..it's just the way you use them. At the minute I am using it wisely..but it's a slow process. I'm an immediate person when it comes to change...sometimes I prefer change to hit me like a brick wall, because that way I have no time to think about getting over it? You know what I mean.
 (ah shit I think I am going off in a tangent.)

But...you know what, I'm not going to re-write everything because to be honest that wouldn't be a true reflection of me. I don't go back and erase things..that's just weird. I like flaws because that's what makes you different. I mean if we were all perfect, there'd be no substance, and that would mean we all end up liking the same shit and hating the same shit. We'd become minions of conformity.

Yes. I got it. I think right now I am fixated on the idea of going out my way to 'do me'. That sounds crazy right? I'm bored of lefts and rights..I want to jump of the path and make my own because the path's too long and boring for me.

I don't know whether you can relate, but if so I just think concentrating on yourself should come first sometimes.

Okay, back to my chocolate digestives and my work. Bless.

Probably the last post of 2013

I am sat here after eating the combination of a a hot sweet Latte and a ginger biscuit. I am now warm, sat at my usual spot in my room. Once again, I look around and everything, every inch reminds me of a memory I have had. Whether it was last year...or years before that.

I have a colour piece to write.
(Sake..why is there a red line underneath 'colour' *sigh* American's trying to be funny again.)
Thing is...our module is so corrupt, that we literally jump into new forms of writing without any proper preparation, perhaps that's their way of testing us? I dunno, it aggravates me at times, because... 1) I know I'll be penalized however I write 2) incorporating my ideas into professional prose is not my thing at all.

If I write..I do it out of my own feeling, my own will, the way I want to, not the way you want it. (Sigh) Going into the professional field is daunting, it just makes you realise that you will be pushed around, regardless of whether you will like it or not. Just now, I read on the Guardian that Al-Jazeera journalists were killed in Egypt. *Looks up at the sky* Why..oh why did I have to read that? I need motivation...not a heart attack.

*Laughs at self* My back is against the radiator..that is switched off...lord help me.

Yeah blah blah 2014 in N hours..whatever. This is, yet again, the time when people start to make resolutions and try to stick to them, then fail after the first 12 hours. Will I have one?..I don't know. Do I want one?...Yeah that'd be cool. It would be nice to have a goal and stick to it..then celebrate emotionally once I have accomplished it! Well this year, my aim was to get to university..TICK. Maybe I will have to look back at my previous posts...I am sure I have written something about my other goals for 2013.

This is the time to sit and stare out of your window and just breathe. Because Semester 2 is going to bite like a female dog. I can feel it, I am prepared. I just hope I get my work done without all the drama last semester. It was amazing though.

Semester 1: "Get to know" Semester 2: "Now you know"

^ That's how I like to put it. Okay enough of university... (sometimes it feels like that's all I talk about)

Where am I at? Well I went to Motown *screams*. I had to Google that beforehand, but yeah it was nice. Just to get away again, that rebellious feeling of just going out. *looks up at forehead* *devil horns start to appear* I shall base my Colour Piece on that night.

It was crazy, middle aged people dancing among Mia and I.  Us, just swaying our way through all the Soul bangers, from Jackson 5, to Marvin Gaye. Does it sound wack? Well it wasn't. You had to be there..the endless attempts to push past the crowds at the till, drinks menus stuck to the bar and drowned in liquor. Spot lights, green, pink and yellow blinding everyone around you, the squared dance floor guiding your every move, mums and dads laughing and cheering, guys in groups peering at the girl with her jugs on show, plasma screens displaying the current artist, the DJ's fingers steaming off the Vinyls, lonely drunk men...hallucinating their ex wives probably. Lipstick stains on the bathroom mirrors, floor sticky and sweet, drink straws hanging onto your shoes, cigarette smoke outside the doors, a fit guy with an Afro and septum piercing..he had a girl on either side of him (urgh), tragic clothing on this woman looking 60...a woman with faded blue hair...faded because she is a mother of twins at home you see...an African uncle peering over the crowd..our eyes met twice and I shivered both times...oh and Ryan Dix..an old school friend haha.

I could go on but if I am really honest I cannot be bothered, my finger tips are going blue and I need to turn this radiator on. Other than that, a banana is waiting to be eaten. That was not a sexual innuendo...but if you laughed I hope it was silent and if you didn't laugh...then you are very mature I envy you.

Bring on 2014 woohooo.

Spark of Emotion

He actually misses me damn what a pity, I can't get over how much that has hit me.
I think I sit here and just wonder 'does he really miss me?'
Or is it just a front like that usual mystery.
How I sit here and think if things were different,
How I sit here and think is that the love I miss?
Tears actually form as I sit here and think this
Cos I know I'm just human, and I have no witness
To understand my pain, and what I went through
from my sister crying and making me cry too
for so long I have wondered if I will get that love
the one where you hold on forever, but that ain't enough
for some people, pride and image is what they claim
to seek, as I learnt exposing my feelings was the shame
What a shame. Who to blame. Perhaps we're all just the same.

Sour

*Starring in the mirror*

I'm sitting in that room in university, doing something cool in it
Doing it better than anybody I ever seen do it
Screams from the fire bell, got a ratchet ring to it
I guess every hot gyal needs reminding
That no one person should have all that sour
To make you feel shit, gosh I'm only getting louder
Stop thinking, cos I'm thinking 'they just being sour' (2013 coming to an end)
My mind's open, the school is bruk, now the future's open
I got nothing to lose, cos i'm not even balling
Huh? cos i'm not even balling
I need an internship and a box of Thorntons
In this white girl fame, they make you feel chosen
So wake up, false hope, lol who am I fooling
Huh? lol Who am I fooling
This is just too much, I need a caution.

(( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouwCWDbBskU ))

I like it loud

I have been awake since 12pm yesterday. I sat up all night waiting for the internet to resurrect from the depths of my despair but no.

Thoughts kept me up. 

Music was playing, some playlist on soundcloud which I will not mention for the fear of being judged. 

It was chill. I sat here drawing and writing and gazing out of my window at the moon. Thinking about those scenarios that you want to happen.

Yeah... I'm no John Keats, but when I start thinking, I shit you not, a poem starts forming in my head.

The conversion of my thoughts into lines that won't ever make sense to you. 

I turn him on, he's always showing it.

And I love it when he's loud during the day, but the soothing whispers in the night are so perfect.

It's only when it's just me and him that the whole world is forgotten. 

My mind is just on him and it's magical.

I pay so much attention to him, I sometimes wish he would talk more...

Like if I asked a question, I'd want him to answer, he has no soul

but he answers me in other ways.

Ways that make me feel noticed.

One to one.

Perhaps they hear us, they've never seen us though.

I value privacy. But he likes attention so I don't think he'd mind going public.

I always notice his veins that pulse this energy, that drive.

His deep notes always hop in my ears.

We'll always have this connection.

I know it, I will take him everywhere I go...well only if they have sockets.

He is so clean I'd never want to get him dirty on anyone else's desk.

And I wish the wires were longer because I like distance sometimes.

Tomorrow is Sunday, he'll have a day off.

And I wish he could go louder, but security would hate me even more than they do now.

I dance to him though, everyday. He doesn't comment. So I dance more.

lmao, I knew personifying my speakers was a bad idea.