could this be earth?

this was written for “white” by frank ocean (& odd future at the time). i’m not sure what this is other than prose for “white”. listen to “white” below.


if a gravity wave hits a rotating thunderstorm, the thunderstorm can spin up into a tornado. nothing around the thunderstorm receives a warning beforehand. what gets swept up, gets swept up. i looked at her. i was swept up.

when someone puts their hands on you, their lips on yours, their body on yours, there’s little that holds you down. little is more important than trying your best to stop your body from betraying your mind: do you focus on the feeling or the memory? which will be preserved first? which will stay longer? i don’t know where i was, or how i hadn’t been carried away into another world where i could balance the two. i slept, and gravity kept me around.

after the big bang, scientists thought that the universe would slow down in its expansion thanks to gravity pulling it together. it hasn’t, though, and the universe has only expanded faster than ever before. for this to make sense, the theory that the universe contains enough energy to overcome gravity must be true. i revelled in the dark energy, and expanded ever outward. she rested in gravity, and stayed.

in the dark, she pulled me together. i woke to touches lighter than the part of me that stayed in space, and to everything around me being more than i remember leaving it. i fought for my brain to remember rather than my body, but i lost. the silence that was once lonely held me down and i asked questions of love, light, and space. gravity doesn’t give answers.

the thing about a tornado is that the start is hard to remember. i know that there is damage and that new buildings are rising where old ones were levelled. i know what i hoped for before, i know what i  danced to during, i know how i slept after. i don’t remember the start. i don’t feel the same as i used to. my brain doesn’t betray me anymore. i forget things like tornadoes, first loves, and time-specific dreams.

we’ll all fade to grey soon on the tv station.

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

of mondays and joy

experiencing fully fledged joy that isn’t mania as a depressed person is a strange experience. it’s very alien, and today has left me fulfilled yet super tentative of tomorrow, because i know something has to go wrong or back to normal, at least. it’s regression to the mean.

in the northern hemisphere (and now, all over the world too), the third monday of january is known as “blue monday” – the supposedly most depressing day of the year. it’s recognised everywhere and people really feel terrible and everything sucks, until tuesday. on tuesday, things go back to the way they were, and people no longer feel blue. for most people with depression, it doesn’t work like that. it definitely doesn’t for me.

i’m a happy person who’s depressed. i love people, and i thrive on the happiness of others. i adore belly laughs and tired sighs from days full of loving, but my brain also doesn’t make the neurotransmitters it needs to be making, so what we get from that equation is me. i rapid cycle between excessive optimism and damning despair far too much and far too fast. i’m dealing with it okay, though.

however, today has been a really great monday.  much like this one.

i didn’t get any sleep because i don’t get sleep, and had a really teary two a.m. i freaked out because i had so much to do including mailing transcripts for university admissions (keep those fingers crossed for me please!) and an interview for Lush. LUSH. The super amazing smelling, ethically brilliant and people focused brand. I was so stoked that I got an interview, but I was pretty sure it was all going to go to shit because of how my morning went. It was 21 degrees outside and I was sweating like a Christmas goat while trying to do my eyeliner because ya girl was anxious as HECK and also I was running late for a thing with a friend. It’s okay. I got there. Then the goodness began.

Jo bought me a hazelnut honey latte and I lost my mind because it tasted so good. We ran generic errands and I bumped into a storybook boy at the printing store. STORY. BOOK. As in curly hair big smile British accent story book. BOY. I sang to him about capitalism and he had a very cute laugh. I ran away because I’m an IDIOT and Jo gave him my number. He probably won’t text, but I’m glad I met him nonetheless. I have a boy to put in my stories now. I played with a Newton’s Cradle in a birthday store and got really giddy about science.

By DemonDeLuxe (Dominique Toussaint) – Image:Newtons cradle animation book.gif, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3717500

I then almost skipped out of my interview because anxiety, but went ahead and did the damn thing. I have a trial shift on Thursday! I am SO EXCITED. I then went to get some tea, paid for a short and got upgraded to a grande for free. YES. I then got free samples of cheese and of bread at Woolworths and bought a cheese and tomato baguette that surprised me with the best tasting basil & mayo I have ever had. My eyebrows also did the damn thing. I got home and napped for three hours, ate a pie for supper, found a blog that’s probably my new favourite (do check out Dora @ For The Goldfinches because wow – follow her on instagram too! She’s a joy.) and got invited over to swim with a friend tomorrow. It’s also MLK Day, so I got to smash down some microagressions regarding not being black enough, which was exhausting but necessary. I’m glad I did. Happy birthday to my biggest writing hero, Lin-Manuel Miranda, too! There’s a gif party on twitter if you wanna come. #gifTparty

I’m a bit sad that today is over, honestly. It’s been the best day that I’ve had in years. I’m grateful for it, but also hyper aware of the fact that everything has to swing back to the middle eventually. I learned about regression to the mean from Teen Wolf. I have a weird relationship with that show.

Despite how well today went, I still have the undercurrent of despair running through me, but I’m okay with it. It’s not the loudest in this moment, and every moment that my brain allows me to just be is one I am grateful for. I’m about to knock myself out with some heavy sleeping pills, and I’m really glad that I can. On Saturday, I didn’t think I’d make it to the end of the day. Thank goodness I did though. Who else would have taught that cute boy the capitalism jingle?

love and light,
shalom xo

Lucky

Some disclaimers:

1. I am female.

2. I write from whatever perspective I want.

3. I am not actually a boy named Adam.


 

I’m very lucky. Her name is Jenifer and she uses strawberry scented shampoo.

I like to go on walks with her – she likes to walk. I usually hate being alone but I love being alone with her. I don’t know if that makes any sense – I tend to lose most of my sense when I’m with her. She’s like a drug, I guess. I feel like I’m on every drug in the solar system when I’m just standing next to her, and holding her hand usually sends me into a neighbouring universe. Heaven knows that she’s not out of this world, but she must be something special.

We’re both so ordinary, actually. I don’t know why. We both tried to be different at one stage; she got a piercing and I stopped wearing a belt on my jeans. It didn’t work, for me at least. She still has her piercing. It’s beautiful, like every other part of her. The whole of her is so, so beautiful.

They say that you don’t forget your first kiss. I think that’s a lie. I forgot mine. I think it was in a movie cinema and horrible. I do remember kissing her, though. She was holding my hand and I thought I was going to fly away. I liked her, and she liked me, and we both knew. We were sat on a carpet in her living room, and I couldn’t think clearly. It made sense. She was in front of me. Jenifer. What else was there to think of?

Between the skin on her hands and wrists and the voice that she had, I don’t know which was smoother. She looked at me very closely, and I thought I’d screwed up, but instead, she laughed. She laughed her beautiful Jenifer laugh, and tried to cover her face with the hand that was intertwined with mine. “I like you, Adam.” I forgot how to speak, as expected. She laughed more and I replied, “I know,”.

And then, it was like everything that I thought was good and right in the world was in front of me. I was taken by the smell of strawberries that wafted towards me, and the feel of her hair between my fingers. She laughed, and kissed me. By the time her lips touched mine, and I felt the muscles in her face work towards a small nervous smile, I was so far gone into a world where only her and I existed. Adam and Jenifer world. Full of kisses and strawberry shampoo and hand holding. I smiled, at a loss for words, and she giggled, and we both laughed more than we had in weeks. We lay on the carpet, close to the TV. There, with her head on my chest and my hand running through her hair, I asked myself why I was in the situation I was in, where she had come from, how she was so beautiful. I couldn’t answer myself. I figured I was lucky.

As my mom came around to pick me up, she skipped beside me as I walked to the car.

“I know, ” she whispered, as she kissed me on the cheek. I didn’t know how it could have happened. I didn’t get it. I couldn’t make sense of it. Then again, it may have just been a Jenifer effect.

“I like you, Jenifer,” I said. Then, I got into the car while she greeted my mom.

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips,

We should just kiss like real people do.

                                                 -Hozier


Love and light,
Shalom X

Dare – More Angst. (Really, Shalom?) (Yes.)

Hi! I’m feeling super angsty and I keep writing these break up posts even though I have absolutely zero break up experience. Hence the melodrama, I think. Here’s another. Yay!


How dare you come into my heart? How dare you claim ownership –falsely! – over the only thing that I truly own? How dare you come, fleetingly, and leave marks like foot prints in the sand, in your opinion? Let me assure you, my heart is a Persian rug and you were, are, wearing those caterpillar boots with soles laden with mud and heartbreak.

How dare you make me think that anything was for you? It was all for you at one point, all points! Everything – how dare you make me believe in me because of a couple “you’re beautiful”s? How dare you?

How dare you allow me to think that good things come from you and nowhere else? How dare you crush anything that was alive and call it “housekeeping”, who told you my heart needed to be kept? How dare you, you and your empty words and “no promises” mantra. How dare you leave when you thought you’d cleaned up enough?

My carpets are dirty and the curtains are hanging off the railings. How dare you.

To whoever dares come after, some words:

Stake a claim in my heart, or get the hell out.

Amanda Torrini


 

That’s all. I’ll be back soon, I hope.

All my love,

-Scoot xx

Choose- A piece about an angsty teenager and luuurve

Hello friends! So while I figured out why I was feeling all sap saps this week, I started my channel! Also, I wanted to write some angst about how I don’t have a Jackson Harries to fly halfway across the world to see me. Watch that video here, it’s great. In any case, here is the angst romance shmance pants!


 

I miss you.

I miss the stupid way I used to feel when we went out, the way it seemed like I was on drugs a little bit whenever I was with you. The way you used to – do you still? – bite on the corner of your top lip when you concentrate too hard. The way you used to know so little about so much.

I remember the way one day played out: when we walked for a long time, and I got tired, so we stopped. You sat and I sat after you and we made shapes with the clouds. You asked I was okay and I asked if you were happy, and you said, ‘yes, kind of’ and I said ‘yes’. I remember you leaning on my shoulder and asking why I was so tired and I told you that I was having a regular day. I told you that I was confused about choices and that I hated losing and that the world is a big place.

You asked what my choices were and I said, ‘a couple here and there’, and you asked what I wanted you to say. I didn’t know. I was quiet and then you were quiet and then we held hands. I keep drawing hands because I miss holding yours.

I remember you looking at me and touching my nose, watching my face scrunch up and the tension in my body disappear. I remember when you turned and propped me up onto my knees while you were on yours and you held me tightly. I remember you squeezing tight and asking if I was crying. I was crying.

You held my one hand, with the other still around my back. You looked at me, and said, ‘I choose you. I’ll always choose you,’.

It’s December, darling. You didn’t. I miss you.

Qui dit que tu m’amais? // Who said you loved me?

 


THUS ENDETH THE ANGST! I’m feeling a lot less teenagey-hormoney now, so I’ll probably be back to my usual crap talking…whenever I …ah, I can’t even keep my train of thought from being derailed.

Soonest,

Scoot X