Napping through depression

So, I’ve been tired lately. And that’s mostly because I’ve been going to sleep at horrendous times. For example, on Monday, I went to sleep at 4 am and had to get up at 7 am. And I don’t know why. Because, I’ve had the opportunity to go to sleep at 10 o’clock, but I don’t. And that’s mostly because… I have a nap as soon as I get home. And I guess it’s not healthy.

But I’ve been having fun this week. I’ve been getting involved and all that jazz. I think that it’s really good because then I have distractions and distractions are very important compared to staying at home and napping on the coach. Because that’s what I would have been doing if I stayed at home. That’s when my depression starts up again. And I know I talk about it as if it were a rash but it literally feels like it. The suddenness of it, the speedy way it is able to infect all areas of my life is astounding. Just like a rash.

I think the only reason I force myself to get up every morning is because it’s worth it. I find it difficult but it is worth it. And pro-activity can sometimes be the best medicine towards preventing the lack of motivation that strolls along with depression.

But, yeah. Sleeping. It’s not my strong suit.


A spoonful of fear

For the past few days I’ve been going to skateparks with my friends. And something I’ve realised, time and time again is that where they would go and do a trick or go down a ramp, I would not. I would be too scared. It’s mostly because I’m afraid of falling in front of people. Letting everyone see me fall terrifies me.

I guess that fear had been directly translated from the way I conduct myself in everyday life. Growing up, I was always that kid that was too scared to raise my hand when I knew the answer to the question, just in case it was wrong. I was that kid. Quiet, silent, never wanting to disturb the peace sort of child.

It’s stupid when I look back on it. It makes me wish that I was far more outgoing when I was a child. I wish I’d had friends at that age too. I wish that I knew first hand how it was to have a friend as an infant. That way I wouldn’t have had to stumble and climb over so many thorns before finding healthy friendships.

I was thinking very briefly what actually makes my friends so dauntless. Maybe it’s the fact that they forget the fear once they go down the ramps. No, maybe it’s not that they forget. Maybe, it’s the fact that in that one moment, the courage that they posses to get over that one obstacle is larger than the fear they have to stumble over it. And after that courage leaves them, they continue to walk down that path that courage paved for them. That’s how they keep going. They commit to the bravery that courage provided them.

I’m sorry, I’m aware that the above is written in an incredibly cheesy manner but I cannot describe it in any other way.

Anyway, I have volunteering in the morning and it’s past 3am.

Nakedstreetkid out! 😀 x


My Problem with Adults these days

Aaron Trends

So as an eighteen-year-old student in lifestyle studies, I learn a lot about why things are the way they are. I am very aware of the fact that each generation has different values and I feel like a lot of people of my age are aware of this. However, the older generations do not seem to realise that we’ve changed. Our generation is different. In my case, I’m very ambitious, I know what I want to achieve, I am very aware of what I am doing and I think things through a lot. Technology is a huge part of my life but I use it in a way that helps me. I use it to create a network, to reach people I couldn’t reach before.

Today I had an argument with one of my parents and I suddenly realised that they really do not understand what’s going on in my…

View original post 996 more words


When God happens

When God happens we are left with a myriad of excuses escaping mouths without mourning. People grieving for their loved ones hidden under lands covered in sand and sweat. Soldiers running from point A to B without remembering that their actions amount to very little, but the construction of loathing within a new generations mind. New excuses are made. Filled with the hatred of the young, fueled by the hatred of the old. Fear is so easily mistaken for bravery.

New soldiers arrive. Eager to destroy others without the true realisation they are killing people. Not just the men that the bullets that are used to tear through the flesh but the children of these men. The wives and mothers of these men. The friends of these men. When they kill one, they kill many.

They kill so many.


Redecorating a stupid room

I’m having this annoying “conversation” with my sisters about redecorating the room. And this time, they say, we will do it. This time we will do it. Every bloody time I suggest that we should do something to the room it gets shot down. Even when I clean it up, give them my ideas, sketch my ideas, it has all been futile. So, how can they say now that they want to redecorate now? It’s stupid.
I share the room with two of my other sisters but when I was a child I used to share the room with 3. I remember when we were kids and we used to think about ways we could change our room to make more space. Make it feel like there’s more space. But it has never worked. Everything ended up destroying the room somehow and our mum would come back screaming at us.

Funny times but right now? Ugh.

I hate this right now. We’re planning for a future that’s not going to happen. We have been planning this future for almost a decade now. Remember I’m 17. We’ve been having the same conversation for almost a decade and I can’t be bothered anymore. It’s the hope that something will change. That we will make that change. That stupid, horrible hope that seems to plague their minds that something will change. But nothing has! And nothing ever will! Otherwise we wouldn’t be having the same conversation every bloody year. We wouldn’t be having the same conversation that we have been having since childhood! We wouldn’t be having the blasted thing.

What’s the point in change when everything has been atrociously constant for 17 years of my life?

Maybe I’m just being negative. Possibly verging on the edge of a spoilt child.

But bloody hell, it’s annoying me.


Open mic and other disastrously beautiful night occurrences

So, I went to an open mic night in the evening and it was pretty good. I got to see a few talented young individuals that were rather passionate about their art of choice.

For example, there was a boy who wanted to get into the business of music. What he did was play us one of his originals on the piano and rapped on the mic. There were tons of spoken word poetry that performed as well.

One of the most memorable, the one that I could understand the most was one from a lovely lady named Jasmine. Most her poems were family orientated. In her first poem she presented us with a picture of where she fit in her family. In her second, how her grandmother thought she fit (you should keep in mind that Jasmine was mixed raced and her grandmother was racist). In her third she presented us with an image of her mothers spiralling dementia. In her fourth she talked about her father (who had died a few years prior). And finally, in her fifth she really highlighted how difficult it was to get up on stage.

Another performer (whose name I cannot recall but wish I did) rapped to the instrumental of Jay-Z instrumental, 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one. Except she replaced the words “bitch” with “food”. I missed most of the introduction because I needed to use the loo but I had grasped the main idea of it when walking back in. The rap was about how a casting team said she was fat so she could not get the role. This was when she was barely a size 10. And it was the best because it was really funny.

I think that this night has taught me a lot. Really, I do. I think it has taught me all about what I liked. What I was attracted to the most. Which is funny because I though I knew what I liked. I thought that I had developed quite sophisticated writing style. But really, I hadn’t.

I think I can do so much damn more with my writing style. I’m still a baby in the world of writing.

I’m going to another open mic night on Monday. That is, if I can make it. I’m doing quite a lot on Monday. I start associate mentoring with the challenge which is so darn exciting. I cannot wait any longer. Though, I am afraid. Because I haven’t really done this in so very long.

Anyway, after the open mic, we went to McDonald’s (my friends and I) and started talking. We talked about a lot. But the one thing that stuck out to me during the night was the London riots.

Now, the London riots happened so long ago. When I was younger than I am now. Most of the people that took part in the riots were from boroughs (areas) that were close to where I lived. We all agreed that the politicians reporting at the time did not know anything. For example, one of them kept saying “why aren’t these kids in school. Why aren’t they in school!” When we had our summer holidays. So it was clear that they weren’t as connected to us youths as they believed.

I think something else I realised was that the London riots was large scale. I thought it had been rather concentrated in certain areas of the city. Even thought that was true, I seemed to easily dismiss the effect which occurred in the less concentrated parts of London. I had brushed it off as if they didn’t really happen and the effect of it was nothing. But it was. People were scared. Guns were still fired. But non was reported on the news.

The only thing that restored the image of the youth in London was the big clean up that happened the morning after. If that had not happened, our image would have been tarnished for good. The clean up showed adults that yes, there were bad kids but there were good kids as well and they shouldn’t forget that.

Really, there’s a lot that happened tonight. Friendships, open mic, starbucks, romance, talks, McDonald’s, green hair, guitars, spoken word performances, rappers, singers, hooting and hollering and the list goes on.

But I’m really tired. So, I’m going to bed now.

Night x


So, I thought I published this last night but I actually just saved it. So, I’m publishing it now.


My inability to compromise with Lazy days

You know when you somehow wholeheartedly convince yourself that today will be a lazy day? I’m having one of those days. Despite the fact that I have to start getting ready in less than 4 hours and leave my house in less than 5. It’s a funny fact of life and I cannot fully understand how I have convinced myself to have a lazy day. Even though I despise lazy days.

I finished school on Tuesday and basically did not want to leave. So, what I did was stay for another hour, saying my goodbyes to all the teachers that are leaving the school. There are about – at the very least – seven people that are leaving this year. I also said thank you and goodbye (for the Summer) to all the teachers that have helped me this year that are not actually leaving.

I mean, I really can’t cope with lazy days. I got off of School on Tuesday, and then the next day at 9 in the morning I decide to volunteer for a disability sports day. I have no idea what I was thinking, except that I can’t rest and have a lazy day. I swear, I don’t know what to do with myself on lazy days. I always end up doing something. Anyway, what I did was help teach these people how to play some unknown sports called Boccia. And maybe someone out there has played it but I, for one, had never actually played it. It was funny, and they all loved it.

I just realised something which is weird about the language that I use. I refer to almost everyone as people. I know that sounds crazy, like “I’m sure everyone does that” but you would be surprised to realise how little people actually do that. Like, I call children “people”. I have never recognised them as just children. I recognise them as both a person and a child. Which is mostly because I respect children because they are so damn wise. To be perfectly honest with you, I know that the majority of children lack knowledge, but when it comes wisdom, they can sometimes excel more than that of an adult. Oh, and I think teachers are people too. Which I have found is weirdly unique. Not many people view teachers as people. They don’t realise that teachers have this life outside of teaching. And they have emotions and thoughts. (Or maybe the some who I think that don’t do and instead ignore it).

I mainly realised this after they started making some students drop an AS level subject in January. I was one of those students. And I couldn’t help but think throughout that whole ordeal that they must feel like crap. Because they were impressing upon mere 16/17 year olds that they must drop a subject otherwise they would fail. I just kept thinking, “boy, that must be the hardest thing to do. They must hate the person who made them say all of that to emotionally reckless and frail 16/17 year olds”. That’s what I kept thinking. It took me a while to process the fact that they were asking me to drop a subject.

But I digress.

I think the word “people” puts everyone on neutral ground. It gives the illusion that all of these “people” are mature. When some of them are just kids. Some of them are just teachers. Some of them are teenagers and so on.

We should probably go back to the fact that I hate lazy days. I don’t know what to do with myself. Or maybe everyone defines “lazy days” differently. Like, everyone thinks that a lazy day is lying down on a coach and watching telly. Where as I believe a lazy day should be a day where you go out and explore something new. Or maybe, even an hour on Tumblr counts as a lazy day to me.

Whatever. My point is that I have no idea of how to cope on a lazy day.