The Devil Reincarnatedย 

Biscoff spread is the devil reincarnated into this beautiful, sinful, luxurious paste of mouth watering proportions that I can’t get enough of. 

Why? God, why? 

Okay, this is obviously a post about absolutely nothing but my addiction to something so tasteful that I personally have no self-control over. Given, a post about nothing is absolutely needed after the recent show of just pure sadness and lethargy I’ve been dispelling from my heart. I know some may be disappointed but I think it’s about bloody time I do something lighthearted. 
Anyway, back to my heartache of biscoff. 

It’s just so easy to scoff down! Lord help me if I ever get my restless hands on a full jar it because it will be the honest end of me! An entire jar full will easily smooth its way down my esophagus, hit the acid in my stomach, dissipate its madness into my bloodstream and cling on to the walls of my blood vessels for dear life.

All ending in a sudden (but fatal) heart attack. 

And you know what? 

I wouldn’t even care because I would be so happy to have eaten my jar of biscoff in one gulp. There will be just sheer bliss slapped onto my face, with a heavy set jaw and ecstasy lifting away each eyebrow from my glazed honey doe eyes filled with amazement. 

This is what biscoff does to you. Allows you to enter a world of pure beauty and cruelty at the same time. So, proceed at your caution. 

Or, just do whatever you want. 

I’m quickly finding that the world we live in is already as sinful and as beautiful. And there is no force of will that can go against it. 
Nakedstreetkid out xx 


99p is where the heart is

I guess that writing my series ‘Moments’ has been strangely liberating for me. It has allowed me to greater explore my writing style and use of description to paint a fairly ordinary scene.

I really enjoyed that.

To be completely honest, I was inspired my the Great and Wonderful novel by Julian Gough, ‘Juno and Juliet’. One of my all time favourite books. Mainly because it has everything that I have wanted it a novel and far more than what I would have expected that I found in Poundland. It was so gosh darn amazing. It is so gosh darn amazing.

To be honest though, I’ve only read it front to back about 3 times in the last six or seven years. Mind you, I’ve looked back at my favourite parts quite a few times over the years, or I start from a certain point in the book and read it to the end. I love it.

I just love it.

And I don’t think many can understand my love for such a book. So, if you ever get the chance to read it, I would implore you, go ahead and read it. It would be worth every penny.

Nakedstreetkid out xx


Moments: The Library

I’m in the library and I’m writing.

The pitter patter of the rain drumming throughout is distracting and I have to place my headphones in my ears in order to ignore it. Not that I’m playing any music as that would be equally distracting. You see, I had the tendency to analyse a song’s lyrics and or instrumental abilities quite thoroughly. No, I’m using my headphones as something to dampen the sound. And it does a good job until the rain intensifies and becomes an all disastrous force of nature against the windows of the library.

It’s a good thing I’m inside and the rain is out.

I evacuate my headphones from my ears as there is no longer a need for them. As I do so people begin to crawl into the library, bringing their chatter and whispers with them.

I guess I won’t be able to get as much work as I need to done today. No matter, that is why I have a book in my bag, just in case of small emergencies similar to this one.

I stare dimly at my copy of Juno and Juliet and smile. The cover, torn and ripped, stares unashamedly back at me. The light blue of the cover has been washed away of even more of it’s colour until it is has become a stale, powdery white. I wish I could say that it is in this state because it has been following me around for years like a much loved blanket, but that would be a lie. Despite loving it with a deep passion, the rips on the cover were not made by me, but made by a younger version of what I am now. A disastrous tyrant who somehow believed that in order to show your love for something it must show signs of wear. So, in a quick passion to do, this said tyrant fabricated a few of her own to show just how much she loved the novel.

Stupid. That was stupid.

Because now I’m left with a book that I’m not quite sure how to look after. I don’t want to tape it back together because I’m worried that it would destroy the already thinning cover. And I don’t want to protect it with a rain cover because there is still a part of me that believes that the scruffiness – for lack of a better word – shows just how much I love the book.

Stupid. Just stupid.

But, what can I say?

I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.


Moments: Lacking the Voice of Reason

Before I begin this Moments “vlog”, you should know that it may be quite triggering for those with an eating disorder. So, I’m saying this now:

TRIGGER WARNING: Eating disorder habits and depression mentioned. And of lesser importance, swearing.

Don’t say that I didn’t warn you…


I made a mistake yesterday.

I ate at, or before, 1pm yesterday. Actually, it was most definitely before as I had been able to eat four bagels in two hours. And it wasn’t until I had eaten the last of the ten millionaire bites (caramel covered, chocolate topped, biscuit base bite size chunks) on the third hour at 1pm that I had realised how many calories I had consumed. I had consumed a lot and it began to freak me out.

Now, although I did not know exactly how many calories, I had somehow been able to stop myself from peering at the calorie content on the package of the bagels and recording the number.

I’m not sure if I should consider that an accomplishment, for it was not a noble act but a cowardly one. I was not only afraid to see the calorie content but also the nutritional one. Knowing quite well that I had consumed little, to no food of nutritional value that day had made me even more anxious than I already was. I didn’t need the confirmation printed into the back of mind with the specifics.

I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew that I was frightened.

Usually, I would have exercised quite thoroughly for the next two hours – three hours if I could help it. All the while checking my weight on the scales periodically but… I was stopped. I was stopped by the nagging voice of my therapist erupting gently into my mind.

“Be kind to yourself” the voice whispered, while another voice, a little stronger and far more violent grabbed me by the consciousness and screamed in my mind’s ear “you fucking fat shit!” And so ensued an argument between the two. Imagine that, two voices battling it out in my head, one fading under the intensity of the other. And if you can imagine that, you will understand why I started to laugh. Hysterically. So much so that I began to feel tear after tear crawl down my cheeks while my laughs were interrupted by slight hiccups from the force of it all.

Quite honestly, I wasn’t sure what to do.

And I wish I could end this by saying I did the right thing, that I called up my friends and talked to them. That I continued my day as normal and ate something healthier when I was hungry in the next few hours. That I actually took a minute to reflect on how I was feeling and calmed down. I wish I could, but I can’t. I instead did the only thing I knew to do in situations like this. I took to my bed and folded myself into a tight ball underneath the cover of my sheets.

Oh, and think to myself in the dim silence:

At least I didn’t exercise.


Inhibitions in the Morning

If you check the time I decide to post something, it is in the early hours of the morning. And that is quite often when my inhibitions are low and my thoughts read like an open book. Whether that is a coherent open book or a garbled mess, I can’t always be too sure, but read it does.

I believe that says a lot of who I am as a person. But nevermind that, I think that is self-criticism rearing it’s ugly head.

Anyway, I want to go back to sleep and just sleep all day. I think that’s what depression and anxiety does to you. Anxiety keeps you up right through the night and then it’s friend depression, swaggers along and inhibits you from rising from your bed all day.

Maybe it would be perfect friendship if they did their jobs at different times of the day. And perhaps, at different intensities.

Because what I’m beginning to realise is that it’s okay to feel anxious. It can be the motivating factor to finish a bit of work or get you pumped for an exam. It shows you care. And depression? Well, it’s okay to feel a little blue sometimes, it reminds you about the powers of self-care and balances a good mood. It really makes you appreciate what you have and allows you some rest. But what’s not alright is the intensity of either of them. Now, that can make a frail man’s head spin right off.

And it makes me, quite frankly, feel dismal about the prospect of forever feeling this way. Pulling out my hair when I’m anxious, self-harming when I’m depressed and dissociating when I’m angry.

Turns out guys, that perhaps the relationship between the three, well, it’s not really working out now, is it?

Nakedstreetkid out x


The good, the Bad and the Depressed

Hey, guys!

So, what I realised is that everything on my blog as of late has been damn near depressing. And I mean, that makes sense, given that I’m suffering from depression and all, but it’s sad! It implies that I literally do not have a single good day in my life, which is completely untrue. It’s just that, right now, for me, it is hard for me to see the good in my life. Understand that. Let it soak in. Rub it in and marinate your body with that little fact. Because it is going to stop. Or, at least, happen less.

I want to be completely real with you. Writing about happiness, rainbows and unicorns is difficult to do when your head is all over the place and the way you perceive the world is a little skewed. But no matter, I shall try to look at my life a little bit harder and try to find the positives instead of always stewing myself in the negatives. And the positives don’t necessarily have to be amazing, just real enough for me.

But, understand I may not always be able to. Like I said, I’m going to be as real as I can possibly be. And that means I am going to have good days, but more often than not, because I am depressed, I am going to have my bad days. But, hey, that shouldn’t last long because this girl is in therapy and determined to kick depression’s arse!

So, that was a little weird disclaimer that I, for some reason, felt I should put out there.

Hope you all have a blooming lovely day!

Nakedstreetkid out x ๐Ÿ™‚

Outgoing Mondays

Daily Blogging Blues

Okay, to start with, I shall apologise. Maybe posting everyday (bar Sunday) is a little too much for someone who didn’t blog that much to begin with. Let’s at least accept that much. So, I’m sorry for not posting everyday, honestly, I’m more sorry for not keeping my promise.

So, like a pro, I must alter my promise so that I can write quality post and later increase the quantity. Maybe it’s not even the quality, I just need something that I can more readily stick to. So, from now on, I’ll definitely post on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. So that is me reflecting upon leaving my house, my therapy session and looking at my studies. That is it for now. Everything else shall be optional. At least this way I won’t feel terrible guilt for not feeling up to posting something that doesn’t seem right to me. That kind of brazen behaviour is reserved for November during NaBloPoMo! ๐Ÿ˜€

Anyway, today has been pushing the boundaries a little bit for me. I went to the cinema and I completely forgot about the whole student night thing. Silly me. It was quite anxiety inducing seeing that amount of people in one space, I kind of wanted to run and hide. But like always, I tried to filter away the number of people and use their talk as a buzz of relaxing background noise and I was okay again.

Seats were a hassle though. I felt like every time someone asked me to move down so that their large group of friends could sit together, it highlighted how I was by myself. But as soon as the movie started, all was forgotten and I absorbed myself in its story line.

I watched ‘The Martian’ and quite frankly, it was hella good! I loved it. Although it was a shameless plug for a career in science, the whole storyline and behaviour of the protagonist Watney really reeled me in. When the movie comes out on DVD, I shall do my best to buy it because I really did like it. A lot.

I’m glad I went to the cinema. Especially because that movie, there, reminded me that sometimes, trying your hardest to complete each challenge that arises to the best of your ability is the best option. For you and those you love.

Aye, look at me getting all philosophical.

Nakedstreetkid out x ๐Ÿ˜€