currently #4

currently, i am sat in a barnes and noble in new jersey, typing away on candice,(pronounced kan-dees) my new computer. i’m sipping on a starbucks iced vanilla latte that i got along with a fancy cheese and pesto panini sandwich (??) and a packet of chips for $8 ($8.55 after tax, because nobody told americans that a good idea would be to include the full price including tax on the shelves) and i’m confused about why they’d give me a venti for the same price as a tall. also, everything is air conditioned and it throws me off, man. america.

currently, i’m sat looking at a building that, much like the university, predates the independence of the united states. the trains from new york and further north come past every so often; right now one’s going in the other direction but i don’t know my bearings well enough to tell you where it’s headed. people get off and walk with purpose, and others breeze through the wind before summer rain. a man with a briefcase and sunglasses on his head looks up at the cloudy sky, and shakes his head at himself.

currently, i’m listening to come on eileen and thinking of 2014 and grade 11. i’m thinking of jessica craven and a joke about a red dress. i’m thinking of a history teacher that made me realise i never want to act less intelligent than i am for anyone’s comfort, ever again. i’m wondering about the time at home (it’s 10:34 pm) while it’s 4:34 in the afternoon here. i’m thinking of yasmin and her cat, and her line jumping sister. bless, wits comedy jam.

currently, i am regretting the aforementioned iced vanilla latte. i forgot that i don’t do caffeine very well anymore. it probably has something to do with my medication, which sets my resting heart rate at 122 bpm. my doctor was a liiiiiiitle terrified, but i’m always terrified, so it’s okay. i’m okay. i’m berating myself for not taking my meds on time because time zones messed up my schedule, and while i never suffered from jetlag, all the lil shortages of neurotransmitters in my head did.

currently, i’m wondering how real all of this is. i made the big mistake of re-reading jean paul sartre’s nausea on the plane, and the big existential think that is my daily disposition flew into overdrive. i’ve been stuck in that overdrive for the week that i’ve been here. so far, all that really helps bring me back is the reality of how broke i am, and the tunes of walk the moon and the arctic monkeys. ~argumentative, and you’ve got the face on.~

currently, i’m exploding with adoration and ultimate affection towards everyone, per usual, but especially towards everyone who’s made my settling in that much easier. to sophia, my darling, and all of her friends (jenna, cris, jonathan, john, sophie, tara, kate) have all been such dears. soph carts me around in her silver four wheeled carriage, and i almost cry every time i see her. to my mama, who came with me and grounded me every time my brain flew me off too far away, and to everyone – especially my ex drama teacher – who sent a kind message after i updated my number. you’re all so important to me.

currently, i am in america. i don’t know. currently, i am in america and i don’t know.

(i think i’m okay with it.)

love and light,
shalom xo

 

 

monthly me | july ’17

bloody hell.

My life, I realize suddenly, is July. Childhood is June, and old age is August, but here it is, July, and my life, this year, is July inside of July.

– Rick Bass

July is over. I am 19, my room is mostly in three suitcases bulging at the seams, and I have a plane to catch in five days. July was my last full month in South Africa, and here we are at the end of it, as we would be at the end of any other month. July inside of July; here we go.

I’m taking out my twists as I’m writing this, so to say my hands are a bit full as an understatement. This July, I grappled. While I mostly grappled with grasping the reality of leaving a home (this only hit midway through my speech at my farewell), I spent the month under Kylie’s curse, constantly realising things.

Snapchat-1704828853[1]

things like, you’ll turn 19. regardless. (birthday, 2017)

I grappled with having no internet at my house for most of the month for a reason I still haven’t been able to find out. This was…how you say…awful. Most of my life is working on the internet or not working on the internet, and having the common factor of the two removed entirely set me up for a month of laziness, and behind deadlines-ness, and all the other nesses that come with no internet.

I grappled with not being able to be the person I knew myself to be because of my brain. Oh man, that brain – she’s a handful. In short, I got very (read: did not move from bed for three days at one point), very depressed. I couldn’t get up because I didn’t take my meds because I couldn’t get up, and lemme tell you guys: that shit is awful. I had a hell night where I was more dangerously suicidal that I’d been in probably two or three years, but I got through that too with the help of some pals over the ocean and one lovely one here at home. I’m still here though.

This month I had a farewell party! It’s mad – before this past weekend, I’d only ever had one party at my house because contrary to popular belief, I don’t like parties a ton. However, the spirit of my farewell was just…so good. Just pure, concentrated good, and love and enough niceness to wipe the suicidal ideation of the week before, the stress of the few hours before the party, and the disappointment at the 30 people who said they’d come, but didn’t. It’s a funny thing. I was extremely sad when I realised that all the people who said they wanted to see me and “make plans” and RSVP’d in the definite just didn’t show up, and I wondered why they would bother with the pretence. Now, I’m not talking about those who were ill, or who were away — just people who decided not to come. I wanted to cry about it, and then I thought about them all and realised that I’d rather they didn’t come. I’m grateful for intentions being made plain, and Saturday was a whole buncha that. In the end, I got to have an evening where nobody I didn’t want to see was there, where I loved on everyone who loved me through the nightmares of high schools and universities past so hard, and where I played The 1975 all night because I could. It was good.

IMG_20170729_175241

IMG-20170730-WA0038

IMG-20170730-WA0047

tunes n vidz

coming in at number one, no surprise to anybody…

i got back into the 1975’s first record this month really hard. it conjures memories of 14 year old shalom lying on the floor listening to head.cars.bending and wondering about being lorde. a good time.

fall down, write another song about your friends

danger in our consequence

this song is just cute as hell. also kermit singing? sign me the heck UP

other loves

  • this post by maxine, because i noticed and i love her and i love it
  • two fanfictions that i will not link but am having the time of my LIFE reading
  • these:IMG_20170709_001628[1]

snippets of internal monologue

July is over. Whooooosh. South Africa time is mostly over. Crying whoooooosh. Thanks for being home, you all.

love and light,
shalom xo

preamble

Right. Hey dudes.

I’ll see you all in July’s monthly me, but I’ve been wanting to write a lil something before then. As usual, things got in the way and the nature of who I am as a person did not change. As such, this is maybe the first thing I’m writing in weeks. In a month? Maybe over a month.

My draft count is up to 43 and I haven’t stopped yelling, “come on brain, think of things” since I published heart out. Developments​: I’m 19 and it’s a whole new kind of ugly. Damn that anxiety center in my brain. Top of my wishlist is that all the big anxious makers in my head would take one hell of a holiday. Goodness.

I’m moving to the garden state in just over a week and it’s very ridiculous that we’re here already. Really, I just have to sing “Lost” from the Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief musical for my sister once I get there. Packing is weird.

Oh​, yes. I’m also really bloody ill. I had a fever and I can’t find the Sinutab and dammit my head is in my shoes.

The internet at my house has been out for most of the month as well, but I don’t know if I would have gotten work done even if it was up.

Consider this a preamble to the mess that will be the July Monthly Me. I miss writing. I miss this corner. I miss being able to breathe out of both nostrils.

love & light,

shalom xo

// h e a r t o u t //

it’s just (3,752 of) you and i tonight; why don’t you figure my heart out?

physical heart: anatomically correct (i’d hope). doing fine, bit stressed out by the amount of pizza i’ve eaten in the last three weeks and the fact that i don’t do enough cardio at all.

metaphorical brain heart: fervently passionate about the renewal of vows that i’ve had with the 1975 – we are an even happier couple now and i can’t go a day without them, it appears. also wants to write about heart out.

i like heart out for more reasons than i thought i would. in my re-listen of their first album, i wtried to figure out why i like the 1975 at all. i tried to find my favourite songs off the album, i tried to see if i liked the song more if i liked the video, and i watched so many sets of live shows to see whether i still liked the song when it’s performed live.

i like heart out for all of these reasons and obviously because i’m a gratuitous oversharer, i’m going to put more of my heart out here. if that’s even possible. if you ever need to piece me back together, i share my innermost secrets and emotions with thousands of strangers on the internet – you’ll find me there. i’m a very private person, see. can’t just be telling people you know these things.

5fdaca9f4d949589968bd16389852d7c.jpg

well, first: i love heart out now, more than i did in 2012. maybe it’s because i’ve learned how to properly listen through matty’s manchester accent, or because i really enjoy the way the video was directed and understand it  now (thanks drama directing prac). i guess because i’m older there are people who i can sing this song to and have almost every word relate to them. i’m not 14 anymore, and there are people that i  found when we were both younger much younger; people that i liked no matter what i found out about them. and now…now i sit with them after three or five or ten years of knowing them, trying to know them. still.

12950331_994052870649456_282283710_n.jpg

the second verse always makes me laugh – it’s so very high school. it’s girls twirling their hair far too much until it tangles while talking to boys, and seeing three people in your year actively trying to mirror a girl in the year above, and that small circle of rich kids with drug problems and too much money. a reflection on their mental health? certainly.

tumblr_nbksd3Ewwd1tahpkeo1_500.jpg

while i’ve (thankfully) never been addicted to cocaine and heroin, or sex, i wonder what my rocks and brown would be. what’s something i was, or am, obsessed with that most adequately reflected my mental health? perhaps how addictive my personality is to begin with and that moderation isn’t a word i can get my brain and body to understand. maybe how much i liked skins when i was 13. (that was stupid. who lets a 13 year old  with a new depression diagnosis watch skins? the internet. that’s who.) maybe my knack for self destruction by bringing other people up and quashing my need for self care? i guess i’m figuring my heart out, and figuring out what my heroin is. it makes for interesting self to self conversation.

i’ve always been good at one thing though, and that’s a lotttttta feelings. yes ma’am, that’s me, center of the feelingsverse, feels HQ – “haver of every and any feeling” is my official title. how very cancerian of me. if you’ve been around here a while, or even if this is the first post you’ve finished, i’m almost certain you can tell. i still do live in my head a massive amount. i guess…i am the adolescent on the phone; speaking like i’m bigger than my body.

heartout1heartout2

my birthday is on tuesday and i’m trying not to be scared about it but all the trying is tiring. but i don’t want to be afraid. my impulse control is non existent. i really want to take my meds every day this week but a morning dose is hard if i only muster the strength to get out of bed after noon. my room is mostly clothes and i’m tired of going shopping for my move. i hate seeing attractive boys with kind eyes because i do stupid things like repeat myself to my friends 100 times. i’m still scared that everyone who’s ever said they like me don’t, and that i’m not actually a likeable person. i think that maybe my idea that i’m good is wrong, because am i? could i really be? i have worse posture than people think – i just stand up really straight in public because it’s part of the things that i do in public. i’m so bad with money.

there it is.

/ / H E A R T   O U T / /

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me | june ’17

Alright. OKAY. We are in the seventh month of the year, I have a migraine, and I think I’m almost out of applesauce – this was June!

from the camera roll

 

june.

June was a weird one, I gotta say. I spent most of June falling desperately deep into a low that I’m yet to come out of, and the rest of it in bed trying to come out of it. I learned that I can squat 50 kg and that I hate spin classes, and I also dropped my phone in the toilet. Incredible. Incredible is a word I use most often these days, and I’ve found myself shortening it to “incred” – it freaks me out a tad and I don’t know why. June. Lots of “feels bad man” eating disorder mentality moments. Overly excited to see Matt’s new post! June? In June I went to Collision Conference which was full of really fancy lights and really good thoughts to go home with and also Rich Wilkerson, Jr – the guy who married Kim Kardashian and Kanye West? I didn’t know that about him. In any case, he’s rad af, and Collision was a soul stunner. I appreciated every second apart from the baptism of my phone.

This month also saw me being…uh…financially reckless, to say the least. My check (?) for the articles I wrote in May & June hasn’t been delivered and my savings account took a beating because ya girl was (read: is perpetuallybroke. Processing financial aid without a US address is…a mess, to say the least. I’m dealing with the fact that my birthday is no longer sneaking up on me but is instead ramming me in the face with anxiety, and that I’m leaving the country in a month, by reading copious amounts of Supernatural fanfiction. Unashamed. 4 weeks. Yikes.

June brought about pride and the one year anniversary of the Pulse Orlando shooting. My heart is heavy.

 

tunes + vidzzz

with my feelings on fire / guess i’m a bad liar
(heaven knows why i listened to this for two days straight)

This month has been re-falling in love withe the 1975 the same way i did in 2012 – oh BOY. i’ve listened to (long title) i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it almost every day, and it’s not an album i’ve ever wanted to cherry pick off of. Initially, I loved The Sound and UGH! more than everything else on the record, but y’all, it is one hell of a record. I listen to it from track one to track 17 the whole way through, and while it’s long as hell, it’s uh…incred. I’ve also been listening to everything off of their first record again, and it’s funny how music feels same same but different after 5 years.

a Very Good piece of Art

i’m too busy to finish —

snippets of internal monologue

  • never. EVER. ever. touching whiskey again. NEVER.
  • if i can’t get out of bed because i didn’t take my meds because i can’t get out of bed, is the root of the problem more like a leaf? or a stem?
  • Shalom, exactly what do you think you’re taking to the US? What actually. What are you doing. WHAT ARE WE DOING
  • “maybe i’m just trying to distract myself from my mortality” – sounds about VERY RIGHT

July is happening and 19 is happening and I still have a migraine. I’m trying to do more. Write every day, go outside every day, take my meds every day, eat every day – I’m trying. This was a weak as hell outro.

love and light,
shalom xo

some thoughts about writing

y’all, i don’t KNOW what is going on in my life.

right. since the last time we’ve spoken, i’ve spent most of my life in bed breaking almost every record there is for the number of depression naps TM taken before noon. i’ve also maybe been to the gym twice, and have written nothing (until today. today i wrote something and also this! so. yes. carrying on –) despite my alarm that goes off every day at 5pm asking me in all caps and too many exclamation points: “HAVE YOU WRITTEN TODAY??!?!!!” the answer as of late is almost always no.

i don’t know if what i do here means anything on the grand scale that i hope my life will be. i don’t know if i’ll ever believe that my writing is good enough for me to finally stop thinking that i’m stealing everyone else’s work and that i don’t have an original bone in my body. i don’t know if i’ll ever not feel like there’s a big blazing LIAR sign above my head every time i tell someone that i’m a writer. i’m a writer? i…ah, man.

“You can’t tell anybody that you want to be a writer, or you’re trying to be a writer. If you’re writing every day, then you’re a writer. You may not be a working writer, but you are a writer. And if you’re not writing every day, and you tell me that writing is your passion and is who you are and who you want to be, you have to examine why you’re not writing every day… maybe you just like the idea.”

– Shonda Rhimes; powerhouse, writer of Scandal and Grey’s Anatomy, icon

i try to write every day because i feel like i need to write every day. some days are hard, and i’m working on that, but i want to write every day. whether working or not, i want to know that this thing – this idea that i’ve assumed to be almost all my power since i was 11 – is real, regardless of how very real the impostor syndrome is too.

i’m a writer and i’ve always considered that i am other things but the core of me is really as simple as the first line of my instagram bio. i am of mess, of words, of love, and of christ. an infinite, overflowing, overfeeling mess first, but my words…man, do i love (haha) them. i love the strength they give me and that they can clean my mess while adding to it. i love that i don’t have to think too much about how i want to say something because i know words are my preferred medium. i love how difficult it can be to find the right ones even though they’re everywhere. i love words and my words and the ones that aren’t mine.

is this making sense at the moment? i’m not sure if i’ve really cared about things making sense on here since 2014.

well, here we are. it is nearing the end of june, and the only consistent thing i have in my life are my monthly me posts. so, expect one of those shortly. i need to write the rest of my atlas series. i was really loving it and — you know what? writing every day allows you to keep the momentum from a day where you wrote something good, regardless of how long ago it was. i think that’s why i enjoyed writing the first half of that series; because after every post i would start the next one and know that i could write because i had written.

i want to write every day again. i’m a kind-of writer. i’m an aspiring writer. i’m a depressed, terrified, sleep deprived writer, but i am a writer. today, that will suffice.

love and light,
shalom xo


featured image from death to stock

six weeks

I’ve been talking about it but it doesn’t seem real? Still?

In any case, I leave South Africa in six weeks. Six short weeks, and then my room is no longer my room and my street is no longer my street. I have issues with comprehending time, and have done since I was 10, so my reaction to this isn’t shocking news. Not to me, not to anyone who know me, and definitely not to anyone on my street that has either seen or heard me having a “time isn’t real!!!!” breakdown on my balcony.

It’s not as if six weeks is a crazy short time, but we’re somehow nearing the end of June. I’m ageing in two? two and a half? weeks, and I haven’t even had time to freak out about 19 because TIME ISN’T REAL. I remember six weeks before a big party we threw for my father in 2013, when I had to draw up a massive calendar and fill in all of the upcoming events before the day of the party. I remember looking at that calendar on the day of the party and wondering how I possibly could have lived through all of those events and still feel like no time had passed since I made the calendar. It’s the same way I felt when high school was ending, and the last five days were staring me down and I just…I didn’t believe they were there. Not that I wasn’t aware that I was leaving high school, or that I was astonished by how quickly the five years had passed, but rather because I couldn’t believe that the time was gone and I felt like it wasn’t. It’s a stupid thing that makes no sense when I try to write it out, but it’s where I’m at with time.

It’s like backwards nostalgia. I long for the time for no reason other than it’s time, long before it’s passed. And when the time comes, I’m near incapable of living in the moment because I’m too busy begging for the time to stay  rather than the moment. When I tell people that I freak out about time, they ask me what it was about being 15 that I miss…and it’s nothing. I don’t miss being fifteen. But I miss the time. I so, so miss the time.

The next six weeks will be me grappling with the days that go by and probably laughing hysterically about it because crying takes more effort. Last week, for example, I skipped two days. Obviously, I lived Monday through Friday, but I went to bed on Monday and went by Tuesday and Wednesday in such a time-confused haze that when I woke up on Thursday, I was sure it was the day after Monday. I lost 48 hours. I don’t know where they went, but I lost them. It messed with me pretty badly, so I spent 40 minutes on my balcony laughing hysterically and yelling about how time isn’t real. Issa lot.

Have I lost my mind? Well, yes, but that’s alright. It always has been. Where would I be if I was my brain?

love and light,
shalom xo

waving through a window

ben platt won a tony the other night! it was incredible. he’s done so well this season. unrelated intros aside, hello. welcome back. welcome for the first time. i like musicals and apparently write about my new favourite during tony season. COOL.

dear evan hansen is an incredible musical. it’s about a kid, evan hansen, who draws very much into himself. he gets caught up in a lie that changes a lot and hurts a lot, and is just…a lot. here’s the trailer:

in one of the earliest songs in the musical, “waving through a window”, we learn about evan & his strategy for getting through. we learn about how saying something means nothing if nobody hears you. we learn about his experience as an outsider, and it hurts. it’s relatable – too much so. if you’ve never been an evan, you know an evan. it hurts.

step out, step out of the sun if you keep getting burned. step out, step out of the sun, because you’ve learned.  it’s strange how this lyric connected with me, but mostly because i do the exact opposite. who? self preservation?

giphy

on a slightly darker note (as expected), there’s a part of the song during which evan talks about falling out of a tree. he broke is arm, but (SPOILER SORRY) he didn’t just fall from the tree. evan tries to kill himself by falling from a tree. he says:

when you’re falling in a forest                                     did i even make a sound
and there’s nobody around                                           did i even make a sound
do you ever really crash                                                it’s like i never made a sound
or even make a sound?                                                  will i ever make a sound?

it makes me question the nature of suffering. george berkeley famously asked, if a tree falls in the forest and there is no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound? if you’re suffering and nobody sees you, are you still suffering? the nature of suffering is isolating and lonely. it has the power to turn everything into insignificance. it’s sad. it’s like i never made a sound, will i ever make a sound?

evan asks, “will i ever be more than i’ve always been”? and i wonder the same about myself. is there more? we all start off thinking there is, but for some of us, that disappears as we grow. every sun doesn’t rise, and we’re left wondering what happened to us. nobody tells you where you went wrong.

i think yes. i think there’s more. i think that despite waving through a window and having nobody see you, receiving no response, seemingly not making a sound…i think that you will be found. if a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one around to hear it, it still makes a sound. that was my answer to berkeley’s question when i was 9, it was my answer during first year philosophy, and it’s my answer now.

you are not alone. if you fall, you will be found. you are not alone.

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me| may ’17

May: the lilacs are in bloom. Forget yourself.

I gotta get this post up today. I have this rule that if the 5th of the month passes and I don’t have a “monthly me” up, then the month is cancelled. Now, I don’t do well with the passing of time in general, much less the cancellation of an entire month. So, without further ado: May.

May was… intense. I think. A lot of time blurs into itself if you spend enough time thinking about how we abstractly separate it.  In May I joined a gym and started a lifting guide, and have been told off three times now by the same trainer. He has this idea that I care about whether he thinks I’m too muscly. (I don’t care.) I’m working out and enjoying it for the most part, though the hardest part is talking to my brain and trying to stay in a healthy mindset rather than slipping back into my disordered eating mindset. Granted weight restored doesn’t mean brain recovered and it’s a process, but I wish it were easier.

In May my friend got married! MARRIED! Their wedding photos are incredible and I’m mad at this much ocean between continents that stopped me from going. Congrats to the newlyweds who are now #HappilyHoisted.

This month I received the stellar news that I’m going to roughly $100k in debt once I graduate. It’s hilarious. Can you feel my laughter? SO much laughter. I’m mostly laughing because I thought I was going to start my life off debt free, but when the controller of your life, apparently, decides that you will and must suffer, you will and do suffer. Litty titty. It’s ridiculous as hell and I can’t really talk about what’s going on on here anymore (because of uh, wandering eyes [yikes amirite]) so I’m doomed to mostly maniacal laughter and dangerous thoughts and rants to my roommate.

May. What else? I spent a lot of time in Starbucks and Mugg & Bean (you know Starbucks, M&B is a South African coffee chain that does all day breakfast and some good wine) and have come to the shocking conclusion that the year I have spent out of school has drastically reduced my caffeine tolerance. I got dizzy and shivery after a latte – a latte! It’s mostly milk! – and had to drink maybe 3 glasses of water before I stopped shaking like a leaf.

Aah, yes. BEDIM! Needless to say, I didn’t exactly complete BEDIM. I got (if I counted correctly) 15 posts up last month and had a lot of ideas but also had a lot of depression naps. I’m gonna try a post-a-day program soon again. Maybe for NaBloPoMo? WHO KNOWS. Will we even be alive by November? Will I have died from the crippling pressure of impending debt? WHO. KNOWS. MY DUDES.

tunes n vids

these memories are nothing to me / they’re just salt in the wound

sav brown is one of my biggest writing inspirations and also her voice is maybe the most calming thing i have ever heard.

maybe the most ‘me’ title to ever exist? | we’ve never met but, can we have a coffee or something?

Snippets of internal monologue

  • This is funny. What else is funny? Perhaps my death? The coming of the Lord? My death?
  • YASMIN AND I, WE WILL FOREVER BE JOKES. I AM A JOKE.
  • Girl, add them to your do not text list. You cannot be talking to people who leave you broke AND upset!

May: the lilacs are in bloom. Forget yourself.

love and light,
shalom xo

featured image from death to stock

currently 3

currently, my room (which doubles as my office [ha office what]) along with my entire house, has been turned upside down and inside out due to renovations and painting. all of my stuff has been moved out (save for my bed and immovable desk) into another room and i grow more and more frustrated every day. i do not know where any of my stuff is. despite the painting in my room being finished, i now have no internet to work off because our internet has been disconnected (in line with the study where the router is being pulled apart because painting) and it’s driving me mad. and broke.

currently, i am in a starbucks after almost crying from frustration after spending three hours on the phone with the bank. i am so tired, and also regret my ill advised decision to wear a bra today. (i’m just going to take it off.)

currently, i am craving food from chiapas eat mexican here in rosebank, but i also know for a fact that i cannot afford it at all. i’ve filled out so many forms and drank a chai latte that i only bought because a friend of mine from high school was working the register. i couldn’t drink it. it’s so much milk, man.

currently, i am stressed about student loans and being broke until i am 40. i’m tired today, and i can’t be arsed to call those banks today. i really can’t. i’m living this tweet at the moment:

currently, i am spending most of my time thinking about the severe lack of the
knowledge of the logistics about my move that i have. it’s a mess. there is so much happening between flights and after flights and in the magical time that i think i have but definitely do not. i have to close a bank account here and if you were around this time last year, you’ll know that my luck with banks is…near non existent.

currently, i’m working on trying to get my may monthly me up and see how it differs from last year’s. i like having these months to look back on. i’m going to finish the atlas series (which has been wonderful and challenging and maybe the only series i will ever finish) and write when i want which will be often. i hope. speaking of writing, i have letters to mail to dora.

currently, my body is tired. my brain is eh. mostly, life is comme ci comme ca. ya girl is thuggin. (trying.)

love and light,
shalom xo

 featured image from death to stock