l.i.f.e.g.o.e.s.o.n

as of march fifth, i am twenty for twenty applications and rejections. life goes on.

i committed to a camp and a week-long kid’s ministry  holiday club thing on sunday. life goes on.

the logistics of my moving continents in less than six months are terrifying and fuzzy. life goes on.


i spend silly amount of time thinking about songs and when i want them to play in my life. for example, i have a very specific vision of me moving into my shared apartment in new york city after i graduate from college, and playing “this is the beginning” by boy. i make little music videos about my life and about what i want my life to be in my head, and very near lose my mind when the song matches up perfectly. i’ve thought about the song i want playing if i’m a runaway bride, about the song i want playing when i figure out i can do what i love for a living, and about what i want to be listening to when i get on a plane to visit my mom.

despite my extravagant time-wasting song thoughts, finding a song that describes the present is hard because i spend most of my time in my head and not in the moment. i heard this song for the first time in 2012 but i’ve had it on repeat for the last four days. it makes for a lil shake up in my brain that i need.

as a person, i’m used to having high expectations and being disappointed, then trying to avoid that disappointment by having no expectations and somehow still being disappointed. i’m used to feeling like death and wanting to desperately step out of my skin for a day or two. i’m used to wondering how on earth i’m still here, and i guess it’s because life goes on.

life goes on.

i have really little money and just a little more sense, but i know i have heart. i have an awfully massive amount of heart, and if that’s what has kept me going my own way the same way life goes on in its own way, then that’s what it is. i have heart and a bunch of tired, and life goes on. right now, that’s all i know to be true. everything else is a big hazy mess of real & not real dissociation games and feeling like trash and not being physically able to fix it and feeling all of the anxiety in the world in agonising three minute bursts.

life goes on, i guess.


the other day, i talked to my future roommate about where we’re going to live this fall. life goes on.

every day, donald trump does something to incriminate his entire administration and inches closer and closer to impeachment. life goes on.

i’m not as sad as i used to be. these days, i can notice rapid cycling. l.i.f.e.g.o.e.s.o.n.

love and light
shalom xo

currently

currently, i am trying to figure out how i want to look, what makes me feel good, why i don’t like my body & my face, and what i can do about it. i am trying to figure out if the way my body moves is alien to me because it has never moved like this, or because i’ve never noticed. i’m not sure how much of a difference it’ll make.

currently, i’m growing old trying to get into college and to make sure that neither of my sisters have to go through the long winded process that i am currently going through (to self: shalom, have you emailed mrs. hind for your sister?). i am trying to find work for the american summer, because…well, point five. i am unsure of what the future looks like from as early as june, and i don’t enjoy the uneasiness that comes with it.

currently, i am trying to make my way into freelance writing because i’m broke and because i really want to write. so far, a byline from women’s republic (a start up magazine that i am honoured to write for) looks possible. i’d like to write for the establishment, though. i need to get on that.

currently, i am dealing with the fact that i don’t have clothes outside of sleep shirts, a pair of jeans, and sweater dresses. i’m becoming more aware of how i think i want to present myself, and i think i need clothes for that. there’s a running joke in my family about me and becoming a nudist because of my lack of clothes, and it sounds like a joke, but oh, the possibilities….

currently, i am broke. as usual. i didn’t get the job at lush which sucks so hard. i am trying to scrape up R200 because i will not miss vodka party if you paid me. i mean, maybe if you paid me. seeing that i’m broke, and all.

currently, i am lonely. i’m not in school, so friends from school are (1) far and few between to begin with, and (2) in school. it’s a bit shit, the lack of platonic and romantic partners in my life. i need friends. and maybe someone to make out with. or maybe just some sleep.

currently, i’m putting on a pair of joggers i stole from a friend (she let me keep ’em tho, tell ’em ash) & going to run errands for my mom. am i going to lament over the price of tampons and yoghurt? probably.

there’s a lot going on right now, and i’m trying my best to ease into it. with my track record, i probably won’t. you’ll find out, though. chronic oversharer and all that.

love and light,
shalom


featured image from death to stock

love is out there | 2016

i spent the post shower hour (that weird space where you’re clean and naked and have more than enough time to think) watching the google zeitgeists from 2016 all the way back to 2010 & had a good cry. more than the average 5’8 girl, I am ready for 2016 to end. i am ready to be done. so, gang; a look back.

in 2016 we were made aware of how cruel time can be. we saw wars go ignored, we lost heroes, we witnessed bigotry on a 1945 scale, and tweeted for peace in berlin, baltimore, aleppo, lebanon, and so many more because we couldnt pray faster than our thumbs move.

2016 decimated my morale. 2016 completely broke my heart time and time again, and gave me no chance to put it back together before it crushed me again. 2016 & it’s robber friends ended up stealing 18 000 rands (!!!eighteen!!!) worth of stuff from me – not to mention my health: i came down with my 6th & worst case of malaria on christmas day and i’m trying to get my body to repair itself. i have beem exhausted from the fight against sexual violence & the fight for human rights every single day. i have sang and shouted and cried that black lives matter. i have put all i have to put on the line for equality. i have hit, and 2016 hit back. it’s been a trying year.

“And it has been
one hell
of a year.
I have worn
the seasons
under my sleeves,
on my thighs,
running down my cheeks.
This is what
surviving
looks like, my dear.”

– Michelle K., It Has Been One Hell of a Year.

despite this all, hope has prevailed in the strangest way. i wouldn’t say that 2016 was a fiery beacon of hope that restored all of us, but i think it ,forced us to hope simply because of how dark it became. 2016 was an incredible year for music, and an amazingly powerful year for the arts. (suicide squad was trash. don’t @ me.)

in 2016, i must have tumbled out of a plane, because i freefell all year (walk the moon, quesadilla). i went on some pretty cool dates. starbucks came to south africa! i went to university in a weird fluke of events and met incredible people who turned my world upside down every which way (thanks ashvini). i had a lot of arguments that tested my character & my faith, learned from the coolest philosophy lecturers to ever exist (shout out to shaun stanley & philosophy of religion [but no shout outs to st. anselm who confused the hell (heaven?) out of me]), hosted students who changed my life (bekah, cid & laura – thank you so much for everything), got into trouble for standing my ground on some ‘controversial’ issues (they’re not controversial so much as they are issues of human rights but anyway) and felt so proud of myself for not betraying my heart.

i introduced SO MANY people to Hamilton: An American Musical (maybe the best thing since november 2015), bought okayshalom.com, ran from police officers & rubber bullets, took being party mom to a new level by ubering people everywhere on my own account, realised when i’m being manipulated  (and as such, no longer uber people everywhere), i touched the atlantic ocean,  i told people i loved them, I got a new nickname (it’s panda, thanks phil), and i loved. this year, i loved so much.

i spent 2016 mostly crying over the astounding amount of hurt that there is in the world – over hate crimes and a lack of humanity, the cruelty of death and heartbreak and the terror of tomorrow.

reasonably speaking, 2017 won’t change much. the world will not stop freaking out because we changed the last digit of the year. bad people will not all stop being bad. those who crush hearts without remorse will continue to have stained hands. it’s a pity that a new year doesn’t provide a fix, but it is a joy that our being part of it does provide love.

over and above anything, commit to love. do not betray your heart. keep your word. believe in people.

believing in people has an unprecedented power. love is out there, somewhere, and joy comes in the morning. search for it. if you can’t find it, make it. celebrate every tiny victory. every one.

i hope the holidays have been peaceful for you. i hope that if you’re waiting for admissions decisions, like me, you’re a little bit calmer than i am. i hope you believe in people, in yourself, in hope, dreams, and love. keep your head up & your heart strong.

thanks for coming along with me this year. let’s grow.

love and light,
shalom xo

a letter to my thighs | honest letters #2

Dear left thigh and right thigh,

You two have been kept apart for so long, and I know that now that you spend every waking (and sleeping) hour touching each other, you’re a little uncomfortable. Let me tell you, I’m pretty bloody uncomfortable myself.

I know you resent the lack of the comfy distance between you two. That elusive thigh gap that made you two stay away from each other and made me “skinny” is gone, and my two hands can no longer perfectly fit around one of you. I know that it sucks and I know that it’s partially my fault for spending 30% of my allowance on food before the month even starts. I get it! But I’m not sorry. I’ve been working out, like, loads. Okay. Not loads. Enough. I go to Wits! Everything is a fricken 15 minute walk from everything. I literally make sure that you get exercise every day because we all walk home together. See?

I know that this isn’t satisfying, and that you’d still like to know why you’re stuck together, and the reason is this: estrogen.

Niiiice, Shalom, blame it on the hormones blah blah blah. I am blaming it on the hormones! It’s their fault! I’m sorry for not consulting with you before I started this birth control, but it was a bit of a split-second-try-to-save-yourself-from-your-body-that-may-be-trying-to-kill-you decision. Hormone regulation isn’t fun. Trust me, I didn’t sacrifice your personal space because hoe is life. Though, if I did, you’d have to shut up and deal. I appreciate that.

I know that you hate the fact that I have to have to unstick you guys and that all the god forsaken chafing is driving you up the wall, but I want you to know that I love you. I mean, maybe I don’t yet, but I’m really trying to.

We’ve been through a lot together. You’ve literally held me up for eighteen and a half years and I’m really grateful for you leg-parts. We’ve made it through ballet and eating disorders and sports politics and running from robbers with guns and dancing on people at parties. This is a change, and maybe you’re making me buy new pants for the first time in six years, but I’m gonna stick this out with you.

Thanks for being part of me.

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me | october 2016

I’m a little shocked that it’s already November, but mostly relieved that this hellhole of a year is coming to a close. October was treacherous, and filled with work and being broke and protests and stress and anticipation and love and sadness and pride. Also, my laptop broke, and I haven’t managed to have her fixed. So. October.

from the camera roll

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walk home from the bus ft. sunset. #blessed

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bless you, picnics and popsicles

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joburg pride ’16

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picnic with high school friends and new friends and a massive afternoon of love.

october

I spent most of October trying to find out what I mean to the people who mean the world to me. I took myself out a couple of times and paid up my outstanding amount on my flight to Lisbon! I’ve been preoccupied with the Portuguese city because I’m headed there in TWO WEEKS and cannot wait. Joburg Pride was amazing, and the solidarity was ridiculously awesome. There was so much love in the sapce. I also considered whether I was falling in love or whether I just wanted to squeeze my friends really tight and tell them I adore them – the latter was correct. October also saw me being faced with literally life-changing decisions with regards to my moving from South Africa, and making split second choices over coffee. I think I’ve made the right one.

obsessions

Not to Disappear is one of the best albums of 2016 – I got it the day of release, and I’m still listening to it. This song, and Made of Stone have been on repeat this month (along with the entire album). Fave lyrics: I don’t know you now but I’m lying here somehow; I feel sick (Fossa); You’ll find love, kid; it exists (Made of Stone).

still i pledge allegiance to these UNITED DIVIDED STATES
things that make me patriotic: voting in this election and leslie odom jr and sara bareilles and broadway and theatre and talent and barack obama

snippets of internal monologue

  • I really don’t think I can do this job anymore. I might yell at this kid. LORD. PATIENCE PLEASE.
  • I am SO buying that underwear. Trap liiiiife!
  • Wait, does that mean I have to organise a farewell party? Oh man oh man oh
  • If I fail intro to law can I put an end to this intro to suffering?
  • SHALOM. YOU DON’T HAVE MONEY. HOE DON’T DO IT. HOE, DON’T YOU DO IT. OH MY GOD YOU’RE DOING IT?

November hasn’t started off on the best note – I was robbed for the 5th time this year on the 3rd, and I’m currently a panicky mess about my exams and my travel plans and my future. It’s not all bad though – breathing hasn’t become any more difficult or easy. That, I can deal with.

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me | september 2016

Hi one and all! It’s been a solid week or two since I even checked up on my WordPress stats, but my lil baby Gertrude (my computer) has all but given up on me completely, so I’m chalking it up to that.

I hope you’ve been well. September is gone, and much like the other months of 2016, it’s happened too fast. With that said, lettuce jump into the salad that was September.

(I just got back from a birthday picnic with some dear friends from high school and some new people and let me just say that everyone is better outside of high school. Seriously.)

from the camera roll

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happenings this month

  • finally. Made. FRIENDS. Took me long enough! I made friends with the most lovely people who greatly appreciate my breakfast making skills. It took me long enough, but at the end of the year is better than not at all – and I’m really glad that it’s them. If any of you are reading this – Ash, Sarah, Andrea, Gabriela, Monray, Jay, Quinn, David, Kgomotso – I’m bringing pancakes when campus opens. Be there.
  • My blog and I were recognised!!!!!!! In real life!!!!! BY TWO DIFFERENT HUMANS!!!! One of them was giving me a wax, which was a bit awkward, but the other was outside a test venue. I was happy.
  • #FeesMustFall2016 is still happening, but the Minister for Higher Education screwed up and said that fees are going up by a maximum of 8% this year and is shucking himself of all responsibility. Protests have been real, and stones have been thrown, but we’ll keep fighting.
  • Dubious skype session with a love of mine who’s in Cape Town. We see you, Ashley and Robbie.
  • We turned three! Yesterday/Today (I made this blog at midnight) was my three year blogging anniversary, and I’m so grateful for the people I’ve “met” and met, and the people who I still am yet to. Thanks for reading and living in my corner of the internet with me.

music on repeat

i’ve told you time and time again
i’m not as think as you drunk i am

we may as well call september “the month of Lana” because i have listened to almost nothing but “Born to Die: The Paradise Edition” for the last 30 days.

i’m just a little person / one person in a sea
of many little people / who are not aware of me

snippets of internal monologue

  • If I take this shot, someone might get shot. Will I get shot? Oh man. I’m taking the shot.
  • This boy who apologised for “leading me on”, does he know that I’d have to be interested for him to lead me on?
  • ULTIMATE GAY. THAT’S WHO ASH IS. ULTIMATE GAY.
  • Lord, if my boobs get any bigger I MAY DIE.
  • Why why WHY couldn’t I at least have been awake when they robbed me?

obsessions

  • Spontaneous breakfast making sessions for my pals
  • Snapchat! I’ve been using it so much.
  • Checking my Lisbon hostel reservation
  • MY PALS IN LONDON I LOVE YOU TASH AND MIRANDA (i’m a mirfanda)

In September I was robbed, drunk, tired, crying, dangerous, and very drained. I’ve started October on the best note, and I don’t know whether or not I’m going back to campus, or whether I’ll be finished with first year in November, or whether or not I’m about to screw myself over. I probably am. But I mean, screwing up is at least a fifth of the fun, right?

love and light,
shalom

monthly me | august 2016

Here’s me, adopting a feature from one of my favourite bloggers & people on the internet: Michelle from Piece of Caustic. It’s a monthly round-up that she’s been doing for as long as I’ve been following her, and I figured it’d be nice to be able to look back at a month after I had immortalised it on the internet. Here we go!

august

August was deadlines and skipping class and chronic headaches and meeting people. I spent most of the academic term in bed, and averaged four hours of sleep because everything was due on August 26th. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out who my friends are and why, and rued the day I decided that spending all of my money in a solid two hours was a good idea.

from my camera roll

general life updates

  • I got two more clients through a different tutoring company (!) after I was fired from my long term gig because the student told her mom that I didn’t explain well even though I always asked her if she understood, or if I needed to explain further.
  • I hit my savings goal for my trip to Portugal for the end of the year!
  • Renewed my passport alone, all adult-like and everything
  • Finished my first non-school theatre production AND signed a program for someone

obsessions

  • printing song lyrics in courier sans
  • knee socks, patterned stockings, and short skirts
  • Dr Ze’toile Imma, my African-American poetry guest lecturer (I ADORE HER)
  • venti mocha frappucinos from Starbucks

music

OH GOODNESS I GOT SO MANY ALBUMS IN AUGUST.

boy-mutual-friendsMutual Friends by BOY is such a gem. Every song  made sense and made my heart ache a little bit and I felt scared and safe and warm all at once. I listened to it from start to finish
over and over again.

Favourite tracks include but are not limited to: This is The Beginning, July, Boris, and Little Numbers. The acoustic version of Skin is also phenomenal.

 

When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth
And no grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her

I’M SO BUSY

snippets of internal monologue

  • SHaLOm it is not your fault if they miss the tut because they are high! It isn’t your..it’s not…maybe you should go and get them & look after them anyway.
  • If this boy keeps talking I’m going to put my knees through my eye sockets.
  • If I do get arrested by the CIA, does that mean I get an extention on my law assignment?
  • Is it an incidental finding that I lose followers whenever I post selfies?
  • BLOCK THIS BOY ON ALL PLATFORMS HE IS SCARY BLOCK BLOCK BLOCK BL

I’m happy that September is upon us. I’m almost finished with my first year of university whaaaaat! I’m going to go drink some water and make my bed. Stay well.

love and light,
shalom xo

 

[It’s not gonna be] May

It wasn’t.

In this post, I talked about how shit 2016 had been up until then. I hoped & wondered whether May would bring better things – really, whether I would just get my shit together.

This post is a report back. A failed mission report.mission

 

We begin with a vision board in the middle of the month. I am already broke, and the remaining R400 in my account is money I owe to people. I fight with people on the internet, and annoy everyone who is friends with me on facebook by doing what I’m supposed to do on twitter, as I’ve been told.giphy

The blow-by-blow accounts of my days get semi ridiculous because I become aware of how pathetic I sound. I meet a girl from my high school on campus, and she greets me with “I thought you dropped out because you’re always crying.”. Nice. Lemme tell you something, fellas: If a person dropped out every time I cried for more than an hour there is NO WAY universities would be a thing. Honestly. They’d give up. I’d rob them of their business and they wouldn’t even see it coming.

I receive an email from a follower in Germany, and am asked where I get the inspiration to write the characters in the stories that I tell on my blog. I ask, confused, which stories? I am told, “all of them but mostly the ones with the bad luck and epic fails”. Ah. I see. My dear friend is unaware of the unfortunate non-fiction nature of my mishaps that I recount on here. I give them the news that despite the events seeming like jokes, I am the joke, and the events are true. The reply reads, “Oh man that is tough but still funny! Viel Glück!”. It’s my favourite email I’ve received so far.

On the topic of emails: my phone stops receiving my school emails. I log in at my computer and see that I have missed five announcements concerning my philosophy exam. Excefuckinglento. I’m too stressed to physically act upon my stress for the upcoming exam. I decide I don’t need to go to school for almost a week because I don’t have to, and then that I’ve earned five days off from studying.

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Two days before my exam, I become painfully aware that I was not deserving of those off-days.

I fight with a boy because he believes that I should put his preference of me, and women in general, wearing fancy bras, over my argument that I don’t like wearing a bra some days (because I can’t breathe HELLO IT’S A CAGE A BOOB AND RIB CAGE CAGE) and I don’t have to. I almost yell. I don’t because he’s stupid, and I’m tired.

HsMtQfG

Same, Simon. It’s a no from me, too.

I see a man get hit by a car on my way to a study session with my #1 pal. I stop and help him, call his girlfriend (thanks Robyn), and go to the police station with them to fill a form. They drive me to the police station, because I am helping them. I expect them to drive me back to where they found me, but they don’t. I am left at a police station half an hour’s walk from where I was going. I arrive at my friend’s house, and we go for brunch. We eat cheaply because we are broke. The value for money? A+.

My default state has quickly become “painfully aware”. I write the philosophy exam, and by some force of nature or witchcraft, I do not embarrass myself by falling on the way to my seat or crying loudly during the exam (like I did during the test at the beginning of the month.). I go to dinner to say goodbye to a close friend who is moving away. I am broke. I end up at a sushi restaurant with her friends who have platinum credit cards, and I am dying inside – but not in a cute way like Eliza Schuyler. DYING. I pay with my student debit card (remaining balance can buy me two lollipops), loose change (read: all the cash in my wallet) and the last shred of dignity I have.

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I have just gotten home. I have cried my makeup off, and then actually took my make-up off (look at me!). I have three exams left, one of which I am almost certain that I will need divine intervention to scrape a pass. I am very tired.

It is the end of May, and I have not done the things. June can kiss my ass. I’m here for eating sandwiches and pretending not to witness the crumbling things around me. 2016 has been a flaming bag of dicks so far. I’m not particularly fond of those.

love & light,
shalom x

New Year

It’s almost midnight, and I am reporting live from my bed thanks to an obnoxiously strong wifi connection. Did you know that wifi stands for wireless fidelity? I learned that in 10th grade.

I just made my lunch for tomorrow – read: I just put all leftovers from last week into a container to microwave at school tomorrow because I am done spending money the way I have been because I am broke – and I’m thinking about how this week could go.

I was at home for New Year’s Eve for the first time in more than 10 years this year (last year?) We usually go to a church service (which I have mostly always objected to because FRIENDS. HELLO MOM MY CHURCH FRIENDS ARE NOT EVEN HERE.) but there was some tension and strangeness, so I got to watch Guardians of the Galaxy and Home with my sisters, and then climb up to our rooftop to watch the fireworks.

I listened to this song on repeat for many reasons: (1) It was so perfect. So cliche. Living the dream. (2) I love Layla. Mostly because I can sing most of her songs well. And because her lyrics make me remember things I thought I couldn’t. (3) It gave me a lot of hope, and said what I needed to hear.

The sentence, “Yeah, you’re gonna be somebody” is repeated fourteen times in the song. At the beginning of 2016, I wanted nothing more than that reassurance. I was waiting on Canadian universities to give me a chance, and for my father to do the same. I was ready to go and be somebody across the ocean. I was so deeply in love, and I couldn’t shake myself from wanting to be somebody the exact way I thought I would be.

Fast forward to May 2016, and we see that I am heartbroken. The Canadian universities did give me the chance I wanted. I got in. I did my part. My dad didn’t. He flaked at the last minute, and I am somewhat stuck in a law degree for at least the next three years of my life at my current university. I cried a lot. (Thank you, UBC. It means a lot that you wanted me.)

The year so far really has been an understanding of what there is to lose. I’ve lost lots. Not nearly as much as I could have lost, for which I’m eternally grateful, but still lots. I’m still struggling to come to terms with the fact that things can go tits up no matter how hard you work. Beyonce was right.

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It’s not the first day of a new year anymore, but I am still feeling broken (if not more) and I still want the same: I want to be somebody. I want to make something, leave something, be something. Having anxiety over leaving a legacy and creating that very legacy is a spectacularly painful and exhausting chunk of my psyche.

All this aside, I have an audition tomorrow. (Today?) It’s for a community theatre group. I’m nervous out of my mind. I don’t know what that has to do with anything about me being somebody, but I hope it makes my head a little less foggy. I don’t know. Perhaps this week will be more reflective than I’d thought it would. In all honesty, I should go to bed and stop researching portable chargers and earphones to buy online. It’s after midnight and I’ve got to be out of the house before 6 AM.

hi lovers lost behind us
hi lessons we failed to learn
hi those that tried to mould us
and tried to change us for the worse

can’t flee from bygones
no shaking off the truth
just a first understanding
of what we have to lose

you can’t cover over holes
you can’t burrow deeper down
yeah, you’re gonna be somebody

to being somebody.

love and light,
shalom xo


featured image from my-sweet-love-addiction.tumblr.com

Bravado

This week has been something.

I went from crying for seven straight hours to not crying at all. It may not seem like a world altering change, but when your eyes are suddenly unpuffy and nobody’s asking you what you’ve been drinking for the whole week, it makes a bit of a difference.

I was stuck with an English essay that provoked procrastination from every crevice of my being. The essay topic was alright, but one of the short stories that we were working on just…ah, it did nothing for me. It was (a) more of a novella than a short story, (b) had a rapist as the narrator on moral authority. I just got very tired reading it. It’s an excellently written story, though. I think that everything happening in my country about rape culture at the moment made me a little apprehensive.

I just submitted my essay a whole 12 hours before it’s due. I’m feeling quite accomplished. (This is a lie. I am not.)

I’ve got a little bit of time tonight because I am neglecting my law & philosophy readings. I feel as though my room is conspiring against me: My doorknob sliced my finger when I entered, and now it won’t stop showing me that in less time than I can adequately comprehend, I will have been alive for eighteen years.

Eighteen doesn’t seem like a long time, and birthdays don’t seem like a big deal, but if you’ve been around this little corner of the internet, you’ll know that I don’t do well with birthdays. The ABEC (Annual Birthday Existential Crisis) comes to town a month before my birthday, usually. Being the Americanest American to ever American, my birthday is on July 4th. (The bitch is early this year.)

I think this has all started because I’m listening to my favourite music from 2013. I loved Lorde in 2013. Everything she sang made sense to me. In 2013, I was a 15 year old in 10th grade struggling with physics dating a twin boy. I wanted to dance more than anything, I wanted to sit on tennis courts with my then-boyfriend and his brother, my then-best friend and our little clan, drinking out of paper cups. I wanted to be able to describe my year as the feeling of wind on your hand when you stick your arm out of the car window on a roadtrip.

Today, in 2016, I’m still faking glory. I’m trying to convince myself that when the lights come on, I’ll be ready. I have been ready, for the most part. I’ve fooled everyone into thinking I have been, at least. Every day is a pill tipped back, every day a brand new story. Everything is for the applause, in the most selfish way possible. Does that make any sense?

I’m walking to 18 slowly, and it’s running at me. I’m trying to find my own bravado before it crashes into me.

I’m also going to move to New York in 3-ish years.

Love and light,
shalom xo


featured image from this 8tracks mix