Ebola Sars and ***, sounds like a big deal to me

Isis recruits Australians, Russia bombs Ukrainians

Economic bubble crash is starting to give me a rash

Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad

Hyper fervent slactivism causing me a social schism

Picking up the pieces of a shattered governmental system

Cliches of a topic piled up into a rhyming pattern

Pundits pumping such hot air they might as well just move to Saturn

Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad

Post Modern kids all broke it down as something they could
deconstruct

Idealists will polish turds, while cynics just don't give a ****

Focus on your social status, eating healthy, getting hotter

Better drink my own ****, cause we're quickly running out of water

Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad

Now this topic has ground on my brain lately
but I feel I should discuss it at least once, and hopefully not lengthy.
See, I agree with feminism and I do my best to treat everyone equally,
black, white, whatever it's all the same to me.
So Tumblr feminists, I'm calling you out because being extreme behind a keyboard seems to be your specialty.
You spend days with square eyes
Filling Tumblr and discovering lies
Women this women that
Telling all of your little facts
Now Let's get back on track,
First of all demonizing straight guys won't solve **** and most likely will get you nothing but flak but I guess you can think that all guys are complete ***** I'll give you a pass to that,

Second of all who made up that free bleed thing?
I mean I know that time is unpleasant but allowing yourself to bleed in say a public pool I'm almost positive isn't hygienic

Now before you think I'm some chauvinistic pig,
I do think that the pay gap shouldn't exist, and I do think oversexualization of our daughters isn't anything positive

However I will say that I'm for equality, not matriarchal or patriarchal or giving someone with different parts between their legs special treatment

So stop overreacting on this
Just because you are different then boys on the way you ****
Love your soul and not your gender
Stop making every guy a *** offender

I could write that I'm okay being single and I could write that I don't need a boyfriend. And those things would be true. It would also be true if I told you I was happy, and loved my life. But on fall nights with a nip in the air, it would be false if I told you that didn't stay up late and look at cute couples on tumblr.

Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr

We use these technologies to pass the time

But the time we spend scrolling our fingers down an iPhone

is never fun or productive

and memories are never made


But whenever I have a spare moment in the day

I’m probably scrolling through some timeline,

looking at some random persons page,

and wasting the short and precious existence that

we are given on this earth

step number one: read the book wintergirls.
tuck away every detail like you're cramming for a test.
dog-ear the pages and carry it with you like a travel guide.
decide that with your fingers and toes always icy cold for as long as you can remember,
you were destined to be a wintergirl.
reread it periodically, for inspirational purposes.

step two: download the myfitnesspal app.
use it to track every calorie you put into your body.
memorize that an oreo has seventy calories, an apple has one hundred, a cup of hot chocolate has eighty,
a bagel has two hundred seventy (a number that terrifies you),
and on and on and on.
let numbers float behind your eyes just before you go to bed,
and let them stay there as you throw off the covers to do guilty pushups and situps in your room
for twenty minutes (burning one hundred and twenty calories).
ignore the warnings shouted at you in red text
when you eat less than twelve hundred calories per day.
look at the projections it gives you for five weeks from now
with weights that seem both too small and too large at the same time.
when your net for the day hits the negatives after weeks of trying,
feel the slightest pang of satisfaction.

step three: find your "thinspiration".
make a tumblr just to look at pictures of jutting-out spines and thigh gaps and ribs.
hold your phone up next to your reflection in the mirror
and pick out everywhere your body differs from hers.
when the girls on the fitness blogs start looking too heavy for your goal,
find the eating-disorder blogs.
obsess over their bodies almost as much as you obsess over yours,
but not quite as much.

step four: begin losing weight.
imagine yourself floating away, feather-light.
imagine yourself becoming skin and bones.
imagine this as you drag your heavy body from class to class,
as your muscles waste from malnutrition.
imagine this as you have to clean your hairbrush out
three times while you work tangles from your hair.
imagine this as you snap at anyone and everyone,
as you spend hours locked in your room.

step five: become a poet and write about yourself.
romanticize your own demons, just by calling them demons.
use as many metaphors as you can,
to avoid the harsh language of the truth.
and especially avoid writing about the crippling guilt
that hits you when you eat too much,
you're fat you're worthless you'll never be anything,
and hits you when you don't eat enough,
what's wrong with you how did you let it get to this point
voices in your head never abating.
avoid writing about your lack of motivation and constant exhaustion and always,
always, use words that imply mystery.
describe your mind as foggy, call your body diminishing.
never say it how it is, because you could convince yourself to quit.
never say that it's torture and you're in pain
and you just wish you were eight again, never considering this path.
never say that you need help but you don't want help.

if you have the urge to say these things,
say only that this disorder is not one you would willingly give up,
because you finally have something to control.
because it is the truth,
but it is also the romanticized truth.

Oh baby I can tell
You've got that self destructive
Streak in you

You like to drink hard liquor
Without any chasers
Smoke too many cigarettes
And dip if you're offered
You'll try any drug
At least once
But marijuana and Molly
Are your favorites.

Staying sober isn't on your agenda
Because when you're intoxicated
Life is a blur, a movie

Your tumblr is littered
With too skinny girls
Who you wished you looked like
And pictures of
******* **** and *****
Are every other repost
And inbetween them are soft little
Poems about being alone
Or being in love

And you've never felt so empty

I awaken to find my mind either a complete blur, a fuzzy, foggy place, or a place of a maelstrom of thoughts, ideas, and emotions, some from the previous day, some from even before that. Electrifying anxiety, paralyzing fear, crippling doubt and depression are the orders of the day, when I fully awaken. I eat, then take my pills, to get my thoughts in some semblence of order. I go through the day, feeling trapped by problems my medications cannot control. I find myself either blaming everything and everyone else for said problems, or ripping out my own entrails as I blame myself - one extreme or another. I have visions, dreams, hopes of success, but then my depression, or whatever it is, kicks in, and wipes out those dreams, reducing me to a mess of shattered hopes and dreams. This is why I spend most of my days on tumblr, where people see me for who I am, but even there, people judge and discriminate against me, for whatever I have. On tumblr, I have friends that I roleplay out various characters with, different personalities, sometimes variations of myself take shape. Tumblr is the only place where I can seemingly have a reality in which I have control. The Internet is my portal to reality, my line of defense against what could be described as agoraphobia. But I still desire the company of people my own age, physically, rather than electronically, but I do not have the same interests of most of them, and am scared to death of doing so. The very thought of meeting a large group, or even an individual, sends me into a panic attack-like state, then I fall quickly into a state of depression because of that. I hate myself for that anxiety, the awkwardness I have. Loathe is the correct word. This is why I hide behind a computer screen. It may not be perfect, but I find it easier to interact online. I do not know how to translate how my characters act to my own actions, as some have suggested for me to do. I have been told that I need to choose to get out of this hole in which I am trapped. It is a struggle every day to even get enough energy to care, much less try to get out of the hole. The only way out is by climbing a steep cliff, covered by snow and ice, cut by the howling, bone-chilling wind, with only two hooks, in my hands, to claw my way out, fighting the falling snow and ice, occasional rock and hail, sleet too. There seems to be no place to make a camp, where I may rest, only the long, arduous, grueling climb, my vertical trek, my seemingly Sisyphean task that awaits me. A choice that may seemingly **** me. People have suggested that I turn to the supernatural, but that is a fool’s bet, a folly of hope, a wish of the people who build their castles in the sky.

Dear tumblr ,
I know it sounds sad, and some might say that it is insane, but you are my one true friend. I can tell you anything and everything that’s on my mind without fear of rejection or judgement. I know you never respond back, but you listen. We both gain things from this friendship. You are my closest friend. Friends do not have to be human. But yes, it seems you are the ONLY one who knows each and every thing about me.
All the others are either ones I can’t talk to , or ones I can only share some things with , or ones I do not mean nearly as much to as they mean to me.
A truer and more loyal companion does not exist in any other being, human or not human.
Sincerely,
Me.

Written by

Wandisa Zwane  


April 16, 2015



INT.  APT 3101 - THE BEDROOM  

It's 02:31 am and I find myself laying silently on my bed scrolling through Instagram...Twitter...Tumblr....and Snapchat. I find myself struggling to go to sleep.  I wasn't even able to sleep for an hour or two. It's not normal as its way past my curfew. I receive a text message. I'm confused because it's
still too early for anyone to be texting me, and I know everyone nearby is fast asleep because we have school. So who could be texting me?

CUT TO: PHONE SCREEN

HER ( via text )

I'm struggling with the math homework, help ? Are you up ?

ME ( via text )

I am actually. FaceTime, call or text?

20 minutes later my phone starts ringing. She was FaceTiming me. I stare at her name for about 5 seconds trying to put myself together.

ME

Hello, Ellie

I wasn't focused on the math. I was hoping that we could forget about the math and just talk about us and the futility of life. For some stupid reason I really thought you were gonna say something cheesy like I can't get you out of my head but can we just talk until we fall in love? But no it never happened as we had an hour long conversation about math.

CUE " MATH CONVERSATION"

The futility in that conversation was cosmic to the point where I began questioning existence. But when the call finally ended I was disappointed.

CUT TO: VARSITY

It's 8am and I'm at sitting in English tired and drained. Still contemplating about the futility of life.

HER

Hey, Tyler thanks for helping me with the math homework.

ME

Uhm Ellie do you want to come over too my apartment over the weekend and chill ?

CUT TO: APARTMENT 3101

It's 12am and the apartment is really untidy. I jump out of bed and clean the entire apartment in a record time of 12 minutes and 44 seconds. I'm going crazy over here as I'm trying to remember if I gave her the correct directions. Thank god I gave her the correct directions as I see the uber pulling up in front of the apartment complex. I start sweating and shaking and I'm fearful that I'm going to have a nervous breakdown. I start cringing.
I open the door the door and it's her standing directly in front of me. I can't breathe. I'm overwhelmed by an awe of emotions. Literally - she's beautiful

ME

I mumbled - Hey Ellie it's so good to see you ( the hug was very awkward because I was nervous - it was one of those hugs where both people don't know how to hug each which makes things really awkward)

HER

Hi


ME

So glad you could make it. How was the drive ( note to self: I should stop making things awkward ) I'm so irritated at myself.

CUT TO:  APARTMENT 3101 - LIVING ROOM

She's sitting on the couch. And I'm sitting right next to her. Okay let's just say there was a 30cm gap between the both of us. I was really nervous. I found myself drinking gallons of water. I forgot to offer her anything. I was nervous to the point where I couldn't even make eye contact. I just stared at her forehead and her lips.

ME

Aren't you exhausted I mean that drive was really long ( she lived like 3 blocks away from me )

HER

Not really , I'm just really stressed about varsity and stuff I guess.

We actually start conversing with one another for 5 hours straight.We smoke about 3 cigarettes and have the most fruitful conversation ever about female energy and the power of the the heart. She's really enlightened - I thought she was really basic. We both can't go to sleep because we're actually  enjoying the presence of one another. It was cathartic and refreshing actually.

ME

Want go up to the roof and look at the universe?

HER

I'd love too.

CUT TO : COMPLEX ROOF

I brought a blanket up to the roof cause I thought it was cold. It wasn't but we just layed down underneath the open night sky and gazed into the stars. We connected with the universe/ourselves/each other. It was bliss. We ended up falling asleep on top of the roof. To my amazement we were silently wrapped around each other.

CUT TO: APARTMENT 3101 - THE KITCHEN

HER

( chuckling )
How'd you sleep

ME

( Smiling )
I slept pretty well.

ME

Do you have any plans for today?

HER

YES actually...

SEVERAL HOURS LATER: APARTMENT 3101 - KITCHEN/BEDROOM AND LIVING ROOM

The sun is setting and she still hasn't packed her bags.

ME

When are you leaving?

She said she was leaving on Sunday

HER

In 30.

ME

(I tried to not crack in front of her)
Cool.


APARTMENT 3101

About 2 weeks later she surprisingly pitches at my door with her luggage.

HER
I'm moving in with you!

I was excited at the fact that she was moving in with me but I obviously tried acting cool and composed.

CUT TO: WOLVES CAFE

As they're sitting there talking to each other about their families, Osho and meditation over a cup of tea.

ME

I was adopted.

HER

WOW - That's a huge plot twist.

She sat there speechless for about 2 minutes trying to fathom the knowledge I just presented to her.

HER

So do you ever think about your real parents?

ME

All the time - they both died in a car accident when I was 3.

HER

I'm so sorry.

ME

It's okay - I mean I know they're somewhere out there in the universe checking up on me. I speak to them when I feel lonely.

Enough about my tragic past..How are your parents?

I've never told any other soul about my parents before. She was the first person I ever told .

HER

I never knew my dad but my mom has been living with a brain tumour for like 2 years now.

ME

Wow. That's must've been so tough for you when you found out about it.

HER

It was. I went through the most vicious cycle of depression for an entire year. But I'm trying to make most of the time I have left with her.

ME

How much time do you have left to see her her and stuff ?

HER

(She starts tearing up)
3 months

CUT TO: APARTMENT 3101 - LIVING ROOM

I'm still fascinated by the fact that she's into Osho, existentialism, metaphysics and epistemology. But I also felt like our relationship had escalated so quickly. We're we rushing things? The relationship felt like it was moving at the speed of light.

ME

Do you feel like we're moving too fast ?

HER

There's no such thing, if it's meant to be it will be, whether fast or slow as long as it's true, it will last as long as you want it to.

I was momentarily tongue-tied as I was trying to digest the words she just said.

ME

......

(Still voiceless)

She still had a lot more to say after that

CUES : "rants"

But in that entire rant she said something that echoed within me.

HER

YOU KNOW I MAKE YOU HAPPY

After she said this I felt like fainting. So not only did she make me voiceless I was overwhelmed by an ocean of indescribable emotions- wow

DAYS LATER: APARTMENT 3101 - KITCHEN

I'd finally recovered from those powerful words she preached to me. So I found myself sitting in the kitchen trying to write a letter to her about how I really felt. I wasn't the best at expressing my emotions through writing but I gave it a shot.

ME

Love is the unforetold explanation for creation. Love is life. It's the merger of minds. The marriage of minds. It transcends through time, it's timeless. It takes you into a dimension filled with possibilities and opportunities. It helps you understand you are that you are not worthless. Every time I am with you I understand we are here for a reason. And every time I stare into your eyes. I realise that you are mine.  

I sealed it an envelope and put it on the kitchen counter.

LATER ON THAT DAY:

She opens the letter and starts crying.

CUT TO: THE TREEHOUSE

I introduce her to some of the guys in the treehouse. They welcomed her to the treehouse with open arms.

HER

So what do you guys do in the treehouse?

PAUL : (one of the guys part of the treehouse)

Well in the treehouse we just try to expand. We write, make music, poetry, nothing much really.

MCDONALDS DRIVE- THRU

She was to lazy to go home and cook supper she was s bit hypocritical cause she said we should stop buying junk food. So we decided to go to McDonald's. We were down to our last packet of 2 minute noodles anyway.


CUT TO: HOSPITAL

We went to visit her mother. She introduced me but there was no warmth in the hug we shared. I could feel her shrill body disintegrating. She was really cold. You could see she was dying.

HER

How've you been mom ?

MOM

She couldn't even speak properly. It was sad but when she eventually managed to responded to Ellie's question.

MOM

I'm still fighting but I don't know if I can do this for much longer.

HER

No mum you can't leave me.

MOM

I don't want to make you empty promises my child.

Who's this handsome young man Ellie?

HER

(Smiling heavily)
It's Tyler, my boyfriend

She just called me her boyfriend in front of her mom. She just put a label on our relationship. I thought it was completely platonic.

ME

Afternoon Mam. It's a pleasure to finally meet you.

I knew her name ( Stacy )  but in that moment I felt like a child in primary school - so I decided to be respectful and call her mam. I wasn't sure whether or not I should call her "Ellie's mom" or Stacy. It was just a tricky situation. So I opted for mam.

MOM

( smiling )
The pleasure is all mine Tyler.

She told me to come closer to her cause she wanted to whisper something into my ear.

MOM

Tyler I'm clearly dying as you can see. So I'm leaving with you an important task of ensuring that's my daughter remains happy at all times.Take care of her for me - please

ME

I'll take care of her - she's in safe hands.

MOM

That's the spirit Tyler. Can you give us a moment please Tyler.

HER

Just go down to the kiosk and get me a bottle of distilled water. Please.

(Tyler leaves the room)

MOM

I remember the first time you wrapped your tiny hand around my index finger , you had my soul laying on 3 cms of palm.

( Ellie interrupts )

HER

Mom don't do this , prolonging life is pure idiocy.

(she smiles as a tear rolls down her cheek )

Die so your soul can have its summer ,don't worry about my pain cause I'm really happy for you, your soul can finally taste true liberation, see my tears as autumn leaves falling from trees , I'm naked and all I can show you is the truest forms of love.

MOM

You're so beautiful because you're so true. Our connection has no equation my daughter, as I leave my body just know that my time with you transcends forever.

HER

Mother it's time for you to leave. Take a piece of my happiness, it's futile anyway and I have it in abundance but I shall be lost without you in body, I shall be found when I'm with you in soul.

MOM

Clarity comes with the last breath, as hatred and love become nothing, you are nothing and everything all at once, I'm happy for you have given it to me, tomorrow and yesterday no longer matter

(her heart stops beating and her souls goes home - heart rate monitor indicates her mom has just flat lined)

Ellie starts screaming. The nurses and doctors come sprinting in.


DOCTOR

NUURSE HAND ME THE DEFIBRILLATOR !!

HER

(in agonising pain and disbelief that her mother is dead she starts screaming)

SAVE MY MUM, PLEASE SHE CANT LEAVE ME !! YOU CANT LET HER DIE.

DOCTOR

Nurse get her out of here.

She's kicking and shoving the other nurses as she is being escorted out the room.

NURSE

Don't worry the doctors are doing all they can to save her.

Tyler comes back from the kiosk with the distilled water to find Ellie on the floor crying.

ME

What's wrong?

HER

( Her face goes pale )
She's gone ....

2 DAYS LATER: BACK AT 3101

Ellie has locked herself in my/our room. We haven't spoken to each other for like 2 weeks.

She finally decides to come out of the room.

HER

(Breaks down, again  )
It's her birthday today.

I've never seen her so broken and disfigured before. She's in pieces - distorted.

NARRATOR

Death is the door between two lives; one is left behind, one is waiting ahead. Death is the ultimate experience of this life - Osho

“Birth leads to death, death precedes birth. So if you want to see life as it really is, it is rounded on both the sides by death. Death is the beginning and death is again the end, and life is just the illusion in between. You feel alive between two deaths; the passage joining one death to another you call life. Buddha says this is not life. This life is dukkha – misery. This life is death"

HER

I WONT CRUMBLE - IM A BIG GIRL NOW. MOMMA RAISED ME TO BE A STRONG WOMAN SO IM GONNA DO THAT.

She put up this facade as if nothing ever happened. She didn't allow herself to mourn the death of her mother. She was apathetic for the next 2 weeks.

This  was a tricky phase because she either woke up angry or sad. She just rampaged through the house, didn't attend lectures - she just left a trail of destruction wherever she went. I even have the scars to prove it.

A FEW WEEKS LATER: THE DEATH ORDEAL IS FINALLY OVER

She gained about 5 kilograms in that entire period. She just kept on stuffing her face with ice cream and chocolates

HER

Tyler thanks for being there in my moment of absolute depression.

ME

I thought you were never going to be able to get yourself out of that dark abyss you were trapped in.

AT THE BEACH

The sun is setting and the couple is walking along the sand enjoying each other's company.

ME

I've got something for you Ellie

( I hope she likes it )

HER

Yes?

ME

Close your eyes

(Takes out a heart shaped pediment from back pocket  and places it around her neck )

You can open your eyes now.

HER

(Smiling)
It's lovely, thank you

ME

(Smiling back)
I'm giving you my heart but not my soul.

HER

(Blushes)

ME

(In my head)
I'm giving her my heart she better not break it.

Have you ever had that feeling before in a relationship where you think you love the other person more than they love you. To the point where you'd even get their names tattooed onto your chest. Cause that's how I feel right now.

IN THE CAR:


I'm driving Ellie to the airport. OR Tambo in fact. I'm playing some Jamie ** but I quickly change it and play my favourite song Female Energy.

CUE "FEMALE ENERGY"

ME

You excited?

HER

Yes I'm really really excited for this.

ME

I'm really gonna miss you

HER

Me too.

Ellie was completing her mothers bucket list - so she had had to travel all the way to Tibet and learn Buddhism. Nothing much really she was leaving  for 2 months.


But little did Tyler know that this was going to be the last time he sees Ellie because her plane never landed in Tibet - the plane crashed and it sunk with no no one  surviving.

STILL IN THE CAR:

Ellie hands Tyler a letter

HER

Tyler please don't open this until you get home.

ME

(Smiling)
I'll try my best.


Car parks at drop and go zone at the airport. Tyler takes out Ellie's bag from the boot.

They hug and kiss

Ellie cries.

CUT TO : "APT 3101 - LIVING ROOM "

Tyler opens the letter.

CUE "ELLIES VOICE AND ON OUR SWEATERS "


It's funny how for someone who has been so used to being lonely, the second I grip onto something that seems real, my biggest fear is losing that grip - even though for the longest time ever I've become immune to the feeling of loneliness. The same way people become dependent on other beings, people can become dependent on loneliness too - you become immune to self reassurance, your insecurities, your vulnerability and after a while it seems ideal and okay, but only because it's all you've got. You allow yourself to be consumed by this self indulgent energy making you think you don't need anybody because how else do you get by when you know that you have nobody. So when someone comes creeping in through the front door, with nothing but good intentions - you shut them out because you've lost sight of the difference in the realness of someone coming through the front door and the fakeness of someone coming through the backdoor. I struggle to fathom your presence because I didn't see you coming, through any door, you were just always there in plain sight. I don't know how to describe what I feel when I'm around you because I have never felt anything like it. All I know is that it leaves me in a place

The feels rack me
Fits of squealing
In the dark so no one will see
Tumblr plans the wedding,
Look! My otp!
I ship it so hard
It actually pains to read fanfics
The ****,
The fluff,
We read it all
Just
To get more
Of those
Life giving feels.
Arms flap,
The cuteness makes us skip meals
One more episode.
When's sherlock season 3?

when you smoke you meet people every day because we are lonely ******* creatures  people are looking for a smoke to fill the void in their lungs in their heart in their throat in their soul but more likely looking for someone to keep them company in the ten minutes it takes to breathe in all the toxins
a homeless girl comes up to me all ****** up and puts the cigarette i give her behind her ear
it falls and she stumbles trying to pick it up
are you a leo she says?
yes i am, i say.
i can find leo women anywhere she says. we've seen some ****, we're strong, and no man can resist a leo woman.
i finish smoking my cigarette and i feel blessed i feel connected i feel touched in all the right important ways
she's wandering she's lost but she finds the leo women who've been ****** and battered but are still hanging on and we become friends on the side of the road just because of a cigarette
we speak of the men who've touched us in places they shouldn't have and we hug briefly and go on with our days
leo woman you are ****** up on the side of the street with absolutely nothing but a pair of jeans you cut yourself they're uneven. your shoes are falling apart and your hair hasn't been washed in weeks. leo woman you tell me to resist and be strong you're giving me advice to hang on when you have nothing to hang on to.
i am glad the world brought me to you.

swashbuckling kittens wallpaper -- cutlasses, eyepatches, royal blue bandanas --
lined the walls of the kitchen.

"you love it, don't you?" Mathilda asked. she poured me a glass of almond milk.
and I could drink almond milk with a lesbian forever. and ever. and ever.
fridge door open. it's sparse. a world weary McDonald's bag and a last chapter beer,
the only other tenants.

"it's neat," I said. don't care much for animals. don't hate them by any means,
but don't go out of my way for them. my analyst says it's Sparks, Oklahoma's fault.
see, when a boy, I had seven---no, eight kittens named Simba. the howl of the coyote
taught me about expiration dates. Had a hard time accepting total loss (e.g., eight Simbas).

"do you feel okay?" Mathilda asked. and I didn't. but I said,

"yeah, yeah. sorry about waking you up last night. just didn't think I could make it home."

"I noticed you slept perpendicular to the futon. with your sneakers on. interesting choice."

Mathilda can be funny. and the almond milk was good. and like I said, I could drink it with
her forever. the ceiling fan, though, rocked off-kilter. she had stray, sad balloons in orbit
around the fan. imagined the balloon with the red-lettered "BOO-YAH" entering the wake
of the wobbling blades. imagined the blades flying off one-by-one. imagined one striking
me in the head and freeing me of a hangover. imagined being in the back of the line outside
the gates of heaven, while St. Peter kept letting the hot, single girls cut in line.

"will you?" Mathilda repeated, I think.

"will I, what?"

"take a picture of me in front of the wallpaper."

"sure."

"sorry, I've taken like 30 selfies trying to get Grace to re-notice me.
starting to feel like a chronic masturbator."

"what do you mean?"

"well, you know, selfies are pathetic indulgences in narcissism. hell, they can be
necessary, as is the case this time, I assure you---but pathetic, nonetheless."

took the phone. Mathilda stood in front of the pirate kitten wallpaper.
she leaned forward. made a kissy face.

"do you have to do that?" I asked.

"don't bust my *****," she said, "just take the photo. I know what Grace likes."

the two broke up last week. Mathilda in her oh-yeah-wanna-run-off-with-ol-banana-***** fury
threw a ******* party with balloons (they were tethered to things at the time.
the dining chairs, cabinet doors, the wrists of guests, etc., etc.). I left early that night.
I'm straight and not very relevant. so, well, you get it.

"would you like some coffee too?" she didn't look up. with locust clicks she fingered
the screen of her phone, uploading the kissy face, pirate kitten wallpaper picture to
her Tumblr. I nodded.

at the party she bedded two skeletal, Sylvia Plath feminists. self-fulfilling prophecy.
she'd written about the then-fictitious scenario months ago on her blog.
Mathilda called me crying the following morning. between the
shame/guilt/self-pity wails, she advised, "don't ever be the third wheel in a threeway."
noted. she said the three had a silent, last breakfast before they left. and I said something
to the effect of, you didn't let them go near the oven did you?

the first droplets of coffee hissed as they struck the bottom of the ***.

"if only coffee were a woman," Mathilda said. "am I right?"

"if coffee were a woman, I'm afraid I'd still pour her into a fine porcelain cup and drink her."

"you're awful."

and I am. but she doesn't mind because I've been celibate for two years, and she's been
so successful it brings her down. off-setting penalties, the basis of our friendship. or maybe
it's the way we leave things where they fall or rise. natural resting places. Simbas. balloons.

when the brew idles I grab two cups. fill hers three-quarters full. she likes almond milk in it.
and I could drink almond milk with a lesbian forever, I swear. to the fridge. the ceiling fan
seems a bit louder. one-by-one the blades. and heaven. and St. Peter, the pervert.
gave the almond milk a shake.

"why you holding on to the McDonald's bag and the practically empty beer?
I think they're starting to smell."

she didn't answer. well, not right away, anyway. and I took that to mean they belonged
to Grace. natural resting places. so, I mix the almond milk into the coffee.

"I know I should throw it out. Grace doesn't even like McDonald's. Do you know what's
in that bag?"

"I don't."

"avocados."

"what?"

"yeah. one of her friends works there. just cut up some avocados for her."

what sacrilege. made me tired, you know? fast food avocados, selfies,
Sylvia Plath feminists, etc., etc. the ceiling fan sped up, for no reason, I think.
the balloons cast shadows over the dining table. and I could drink almond milk
with a lesbian forever. trust me. just not under those conditions. beeline for
the fridge. door open. snagged the bag of blacker-than-brown avocados
and the bottle of beer.

"stop. she could be back any day," Mathilda said.

and what I should of said was no. what I should have said was Grace,
for all intents and purposes, was dead. and what she was doing
was reusing a dead name. and reusing a dead name isn't a resurrection.
but what I said was, "okay." and I sat down under the ceiling fan.
my natural resting place. almond milk forever. and ever. and ever.

Valentino has its red, Versace its Medusa logo, Chanel the tweed that lines dresses and jackets and handbags each season. In the fashion world, these nuances of texture and color, in conjunction with shape, are what help define a brand's identity, what ultimately makes them feel familiar to consumers; they are fashion's version of DNA. Designers carving out their place within the industry will often land on their own set of signatures that are built upon with each new collection—but Patric DiCaprio, the 26-year-old designer of Vaquera, isn't interested in "buy-ability" or recognizable traits. "We are obsessed with keeping people guessing" he says. "We want that to be our thing."

In the three seasons since launching the New York-based brand, DiCaprio has infused Fashion Week with the sort of Dionysian energy once felt at early John Galliano shows. For his Summer/Spring 2016 show, staged at the Church of the Ascension in Greenwich Village, models walked the aisle to the Smashing Pumpkins in baptismal baby-doll dresses and ruffled bloomers, with DiCaprio's boyfriend closing the show in a wedding gown. In February, with new partners David Moses and Bryn Taubensee on board, a debaucherous cast of models dressed in Victorian-meets-club looks danced, lifted their skirts and put their cigarettes out in audience member's drinks at the China Chalet venue in the Financial District.

"Vaquera is about constant reinvention," DiCaprio says of his no-guts-no-glory ethos. "It's about the future; the future of style and clothes, but not in the cliche of futuristic spandex and metallics."

Much like his collections, the designer's path in fashion has been far from linear. Born and raised in Alabama, DiCaprio attended a private Christian school before studying photography at a public university in the South. An internship with DIS Magazine offered him a crash course in art direction and styling, and the opportunity to draw creative fuel from New York—a city that has very much proven to be his creative elixir.

"I felt like I had been underwhelmed for my whole life," says DiCaprio, who moved to the city five years ago and taught himself to sew through YouTube tutorials. "When I first came to New York it felt like I had finally gotten my head above the water and had oxygen for the first time. This place was overwhelming in the best way." DiCaprio spoke with PAPER about his creative approach, his unconventional path to fashion and his idolization of David Bowie.

What sparked your interest in fashion?

I think it's always been about clothes for me. When I was in middle school and high school I was always in bands. I was obsessed with Screamo and David Bowie—the groups that had such strong visual aspects to their work. But I think part of me always felt like I was doing that so I could assume the look. Screamo bands would let me wear the size zero, ultra-stretch white jean. With David Bowie, I wanted to wear the gold eyeshadow; it was always about the look.

How did studying photography lead you to fashion design?

My school was very focused on the craft—the dark room and perfect exposure—but I think I was on the opposite end, I was interested in what was happening in the photo. I left college to do an internship with DIS Magazine and because they're involved in so many creative avenues like photography and styling and art and video, I was able to get a realistic vision of things. The experience [with DIS] made me realize I was less interested in photography and more interested in creating these characters.

When school ended, I moved to New York and and worked with DIS again and then with VFiles in [the archives department]. I'd go through old issues of ID and Paper and Dazed and it taught me a lot about fashion history. I had been removed from all of that when I was growing up, there was no Chanel store in Alabama, there was no Dazed And Confused at the Barnes and Noble in Alabama. Coming to New York I was able to get my hands on the clothes and study these old magazines.

How did you get that initial internship though?

I'm obsessed with Tumblr. I got on it more than eight years ago, and it was a huge part of helping me reach out to people. People that I'm still friends with now—Hari Nef and Juliana Huxtable—I met through Tumblr; they moved to New York before me and motivated me to do the same. So I emailed the team at DIS, and asked if I could show them my photography portfolio—which sounds so funny to say now—and they offered to show me the ropes. They hooked me up with Avena Gallagher, who is an inspiration and has taught me everything I know about styling.

About two years ago I started working for her and became obsessed with styling. I styled Charli XCX for a year—and it was exciting, definitely closer to what I wanted to do but it wasn't exactly it. I wanted to pull specific things—1980's Issey Miyake, but there was no way a no-name stylist like me would be able to get my hands on it. So I bought a sewing machine and started sewing the things I wanted for photo shoots. Vaquera started as an art project that wasn't about wearing the clothes or making something for Opening Ceremony—it was about making clothes that I could then shoot. The final product was the look book.

What made you decide on the name Vaquera?

A few different reasons. I was reading a book by Tom Robbins called Even Cowgirls Get The Blues and it was really informative for me at the time. I was also working in a kitchen as an expediter with a bunch of Mexican line cooks and they had a lot of pet names for me, like "el pato" which is gay slang for f—got, and "little baby doll." They knew I was from the South so they'd call me "La Vaquera" because that's Spanish for cowgirl—even though cowgirls aren't Alabama, it's more of a Texas thing. So I just called the project Vaquera. It seems so arbitrary now, I'm stuck with it for better or worse.

What's been one of the challenges of keeping things future-focused?

I've had criticism from people that it's such a bad business model to reinvent yourself each season, that no one's going to know what to expect from you. Buyers are going to be confused, you're never going to make any money. And I've just been like, "Well, I think we don't have any interest in that." We are obsessed with keeping people guessing—we want that to be our thing. I try my best to keep it a secret until the day of the show and then just let loose.

So we're going to assume you won't be giving any clues about next season's show.

Oh my god, i don't want to give it away! I think people want to see billowy-sleeves but that's out the door. We're doing something completely different. Romantic but a whole different definition of romance.

How has working with David and Bryne changed things for you and the brand?

Last season it was like a whole new brand. We came together through Avena and it feels like we're progressing, which is exciting. I got sick of doing everything alone. For the Spring show I sewed everything, produced it myself, got the location, cast it myself.

And did you collapse after the show ended?

It was a serious problem, it became impossible. I realized I was either going to have to plateau so I could get my life together or I was going to have to find a way to expand the vision. I trust Bryne and David with my life and they understand my vision but have their own ideas. It was a necessary change.

So many designers have expressed concern about the relentless pace of the industry recently.

All these different seasons—pre-fall, couture, designers showing things that are going to be available for purchase the day after the show. That's so scary for people like us who are on our hands and knees in the living room cutting the clothes and can barely get them made in time for the show.

Do you want to stay independent? What are the benefits and detriments, in your opinion?

I think we want to stay independent. I want to make money but I don't want to feel pressure to do certain things. I'm already so sick of that show we just did—already on to the next one. It's like with Demna Gvasalia getting the Balenciaga job: I was so disappointed to see him doing the same thing he did at Vetements at Balenciaga, but then I realized, with all the money that's involved and when you're working with these huge offers, there's contracts. Money complicates things in a way that I think can hurt people's creativity. Maybe you'll make a lot of money for a few years, but you might forget how to make exciting things because you're stuck with the designs that worked well one time. I want to make money, but we want to find different ways of doing it.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-melbourne | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide

"It is just a stupid and suicidal world, Tumblr is."
No
     It
        Isn't
"All it does is provoke those negative feelings."
No
     It
        Doesn't
"What does it do for you? Obviously nothing good."*
Oh
    *But
         It
            Does
                  And
                 ­        You
                       Have
                    No
               *Idea
         How
   Much
It
     Has
          Saved
                *Me

Young Ston..Oh..
I glow,Oh, I won't stop No..Oh..I'm on go..Oh..(Ohh3)..Yeah, ** I glow..(Oh5)..I...glow..(Ohh6)..I won't stop Noo...(Ohh4)..I'm on go..(Ohh4)..I won't stop Noo..(Ohh4)..I'm on go..(Ohh4)..I glow..(Ohh4)..Uhh,..I glow...(I won't stop2)..(Noo4)..Oh.., I'm on (go7)..Yeah I'm focused, Yeah I be glowing..man I'm on go, Yeah, I glow *****..(I'm on go3)..(Oh2)..(go8)..Yeah ***** I (glow3)..(Ohh3)...I won't stop..(no7)..I'm too (close3)..I'm on (go3)..I (glow3)..Oh, I won't drop the ball,..(no4)..Im too focused..(Oh4)..I'm too close to succeding , so I'm on (go3)..(Ohh4)..(I'm on go3)..(go5)..Yeah **.., I glow..(Oh9)..
/I won't stop glowing.. (No2)/2
I'm on..(go6)..(Oh6)..for sure Ayo..

I gotta get my safe filled up dude, straight cake nothing but cash on me..Yeah **, **** the Federal Banks dawg, I been trappin so I got that ***** money, Imma throw some to mom dukes & let her open up her own bakery, so we can clean Dat ****,  yeah man.. My whole family know what's really real, Yeah they stick to  the g code, Yeah they already know the deal man..
My bloodline is filled  with real gangsters *****, that always kept it true & trill, Yeah..so I would never tell, death before dishonor, Yeah..so you don't wanna ever betray me man or your familia will be missing ya, I'm just letting y'all fuccers know from the beginning, Yeah..I look like I'm weak & I'm a geek but I'll have you swimming wit the fishes, Yeah mob ****, Yeah *****, I'm plug in wit the Italians, so like Loaf said ***** ****** you don't wanna..(try me Yeah2)..then its (bye2)..homie for real, ***** *** ****** this (the statement3)..Aye Man

I usta eat ramen noodles all day everyday man Yeah even for breakfast, but now I'm renting the whole Ruth Chris out in Buckhead for my ****** Disciples, Yeah all of my OFTR Souljas..
wit me everyday & everyday now we getting paid too man, & baked too..(Yeah2)..We making statements..Aye, Yeah Fo sho..

I'm on go..(go6)..
Yeah dawg, I gotta go..(oh6)..Imma keep rolling mo, Yeah Imma keep going..Oh..(go2)..Oh..fo sho,..(Ohh3)..Woah,..Yeah I gotta..(go3)..Yeah..I gotta (go2)..(Ohh5)..Yeah of course Imma (glow8)..that's..(Fo sho4)..Yeah dawg..Uhh,yeah I gotta go..

Ohh, whatever God wants me to go then I'm going hes my master & I must obey him or I'm just useless like a 80s era cell phone,Yeah so whatever God wants me to do then Im on it, like a good assistant..
The Heavenly Father assistes me that's why I am still living today,..He's my creator, he's an inspiration for you & me Aye..Uhh Imma **** Yeah..Imma..(****5)..,real talk..
Imma always give (my all3)..(all2)....but not my soul that belongs to the Heavenly Father,..Yeah..(Fo sho5)..(Ohh2), Uhh..Young Ston..

(Ohh7)..Uhh..I won't be stopped..(Noo3)..(Oh2)..I'm too..(strong3)..(Ohh6)..like the Hulk, Oh..I'm incredible & I'm untouchable, Yeah..Imma threat to the world..no Osama Bin Laden tho, but Death to America Fo sho..

(yo8)..I won't stop..(Noo6)..(Ohh10)..,I'm on (go8)..Oh..I (glow7)..Oh..(goo8)..Uhh...(Ohh7)..
Woah,Oh..Let's (go6)..Oh..

Im on (go9), Like P.D Eastman, go dawg go..OFTR no we don't support these hos..we only support the real yo..Imma blow, Imma shine, & Imma glow like a nuclear bomb dude, Noo I can't give up now, I'm too close to the finish line, my ***** I will have my victory man,Yeah..
I'm gonna prove all of them doubters wrong,..OFTR we all Kings & Queens , yo these busters all ready tryna steal flow from me..,yo forget being  in a secret society,..Imma let my gang be know mane , Yeah Imma real ***** & I'm proud of being one mane..ayo,What happen to potten lyrics & conscience word play...Hip Hop is dead, so Imma  resurrected it my *****..
These rappers be in the studio playing house naked & dress up wit each other, then claim to be..(bout it2)..on cameras,..Yeah man..

Yo, shoutout to Nas, Aye, I get that ether flow subconsciously when I rhyme, ayo my Flow kinda reminds ya when hip hop first had started, now these rappers sound like Prince, too much purple drank got these ****** going ******* , I can't understand a **** thang they rhyming..these ****** just don't make no sense anymore, yeah they all  so pathetic..,they ain't even making they own profits, all that revenue is going inside the white manz pockets,they **'s yeah they getting  pimped..By The Illuminati..Uhh,Yeah

I dun gott hot like KD at Rucker Park forget the hook, leave it out, I'm shooting it man, Uhh..I wrote alot of legendary **** while living with my  mama, so yeah I gotta give back to my mama, Noo I won't do what Kanye West or Jennifer Hudson did to their families, **** where yall souls at..Yall suppose to be ******, but yall on that crazy white kid ****..Tyler Hadley..Uhh, I guess the money done, made yall its puppets, Ohh well, ****, yall inspired me to not do what y'all did..so thanks,.. Aye
I have no fears, Only For my Heavenly Father & that's outta love & respect...

Aye man..I wrote this early New Years eve 2015, I had to end the year off wit something deep that'll make the people think & at the same time, let all these elementary reading level looking *** ****** see why I'm the new king in my city,..so hand the crown to me TI, no disrespect, I know you see me , real recognize real,Yeah or has being a celebrity made you blind to the facts ****, & What's good Ye,..what happen to Jesus walks..you Satans ***** now,..You ain't no God..Uhh..****..I just wanna know,Ayo  what's wrong wit asking questions man, that's what's so wrong wit people today, they so afraid of the truth, but living the pagan Satanic way..****..
What's wrong wit this world, I know its alot of information that they scared to share wit us, but we need to know, before Independence Day the movie become our reality, Yeah mane..let's change the world & make it a better place..(Ohh6)

(yo8)..I won't stop..(Noo6)..(Ohh10)..,I'm on (go8)..Oh..I (glow7)..Oh..(goo8)..Uhh...(Ohh7)..
Woah,Oh..Let's (go6)..Oh..

Let's do it, come along wit me my brothers & my sisters & let's all make history my ***** its much room but you can't be afraid of the evil..(Noo2).., & You gotta be willing to make sacrifices for G-o-d only..(Ohh3)..Yeah of course sometimes we may lose, but the losses only makes you stronger..(Ohh2)..I won't stop..(Noo2)..because I know when the end comes that I am doing the right thing..Yeah man, I'm glowing..

/I'm on..(go3)..(Ohh4)/..3
(Ohh8)..(I glow2)(glow2)..(Yeah2)..(I glow3)..(Yeah5)..Uhh..Yeah (I glow2)..Yeah I glow man,..I glow..(glow3)..Yeah , (I glow3)...,Yeah..(I glow3)..man..Uhh..

I'm the mufucking man, Yeah I usta have nothing , I usta to sleep on the floor, or I usta to sleep on a sofa.., I wake up my neck & back be so sore, but I soared away from that struggle on to success dawg..Uhh, Yeah Imma skinny young dude that loves to spit my mind on a beat & smoke good kush to yo..I remember a time not so long ago, when I couldn't even barley afford to, but **** I stilled smoked tho dude..(Ohh8)
I was jobless stressing out my mama, causing problems around the house man because I wasn't trying get a job man..Yeah I had drive man, all I ever wanted to do tho is stay at the crib & write hits..Uhh,Yeah you can say that I was lost & confused but I was only 19..man I was only tryna figure out my true  purpose on this earth instead of slaving for the white manz..

So I started up my own business OFTR, Yeah..Im only tryna give the people what they need not what they want man & that's what they gonna get..yo..we can all learn & teach each other new things, cooperation, Yeah we can all be Leaders & rulers instead of being so against each other mane..real spit we need to cease with the stupidity & be a family, because we can all glow Yeah we can all glow my *****, we gotta go  make some moves, before its too late & the end times come & people don't know what to do man..I said we can all glow,Yeah we can all glow man, so Lets glow together, & grow together to my *****..(Yeah4)..

(Ohh8)..I won't stop..(no2)..I'm on..(go9)..(Oh4)..I won't slow down at all..(no4)..(I'm on go,Yeah2)..(go7)....Ohhwoah..go..go

Like some DC **** dawg,..Uhh, I'm bringing the whole hood wit me, everybody gone eat Yeah..& if you want beef from me, I don't keep none like a vegetarian,Yeah I keep alot of proteins, knowledge & wisdom mane, you can eat them , Aye man, if you hating *****, ******* & If you ever disrespect the clique that's gonna be yo last time man..Aye, so you better repent..
Young Ston, The ****** Disciple, Yeah I love to stay fried but I ain't no dummy, Imma OFTR Soulja,...**** right mane..Aye

They always got something say..Yeah mane
Them nasty ******* & ***** ******  like to stay talking , Yeah ***** they talk alot of fucc **** concerning me man..but I don't care about their words because mines more powerful, They Bruce Wayne & I'm Clark Kent dawg..,Uhh,Yeah..Aye..
I'm one of one like a custom made breitling, I'm so confident in myself , I got alot of confidence in my team..OFTR, we gone win no matter how hard the mission seems, like we was train by the A Team..
Yeah we winners mane so they don't gotta notice me, because I already know where I'm heading mane..Its cool, I'm good, I'm gravey,Yeah Its okay mane.I'm g.Cuhz, (I'm still glowing,Yeah..Uhh2)..I'm shinning my light bright on all the hate,..*****

(I glow3)..(Yeah2)..(I glow3)..man...(Ohh6)..,yo, I said...(I glow6)..(Oh7)..Yeah..(Oh3)..I won't stop...(no9)...(Yeah4), I'm on (go5)..(Oh5)..I won't stop..(no2)..Im on..(go5)...(Oh6)..I won't stop  no,Oh,..I'm on go **..(Ohh4)..
Woah!!
Uhh..

OFTR, this The Statement, dawg,..no I won't stop, I'm on go..Yeah..Ayo **** the rules, **** the laws, we breaking them all, we gone ball, Yeah Fo show..,so they can say whatever they wanna say man..,Yeah They can think whatever they wanna think about ya my *****..let them jeaslous busters hate..don't worry, be happy, let the doubters be your motivation,.. Uhh,...I'm the streets preacher, I'm The ****** Disciple, you don't wanna battle against me dawg,..(no you don't3)..(Oh4)..Uhh, yo much love to all my real ****** thats still breathing Yeah..shoutouts to all yall..yo..
OFTR, we ascending, Yeah *****..we blowing up like the Al Quada goons, OFTR we thugs tho ****..
I don't got much food in my refrigerator, but I ain't even hungry my *****,..I'm getting full off of these rhymes, Yeah this is spiritual food man & it tastes so good like og..Uhh,mane,Noo I don't pop beans, but I do keep alot of bars on me & they got me in another plane..Aye

Yeah I do admit I must change some of my gangsta ways, Im so hectic, but noo I can't  change my gene's,like I'm homeless,..Ayo, Yeah I live life so recklessly,but I'm humble..I'm so misunderstood,I'm  just different man, but I love the way that God has made me...OFTR..(Yeah2)..I told them ******  that this **** would happen way before I was even established as a certifted business..Yeah I show em, when I was posting songs on my tumblr page & talking so much **** on twitter,..Yeah I forewarn you *******, them busters didn't even get to  see me like Jesus secondcoming.., no they didn't take me serious , so now they gotta deal wit the consequences, man, they only made my job more easy when I finally made it..

Hahaha..no Davis..,what up tho my *****..Look whos laughing now,Yeah now who's richer not yall ***** made *** **** a ****  arch ya back for a deal  *** rappers.., Uhh **** yo whole squad they all just sweet ***** *** ******, yall could never make the moves I dun made anyway..Noo I ain't perfect but yall too of the world, yall too weak & afraid of the truth..Uhh
Yall **** ****** know who yall are theres no need for me to even say y'all ***** *** names..OFTR We the realest gang, we the best in the A, we the best world wide too mane, Aye..,Yeah..

I'm glowing.. When they was like "Noo you wouldn't.."..but forget em, Yeah **** em, forget em,..Aye, where all of my **** gangsters & down women at who got my back show some love, I show some back..Oh..(Yeah4)..& I ain't even rapping right now *****, this the Outro,..So I'm making my last few statements before this beat stops, ****..I know the engineer tired, I been  working him towards a billion..Uhh, my ***** they saying what I'm tryna do is thee impossible, but I'm on..(go3)..(Oh3)..I won't stop (Noo3),I'm on..(go3)..(Oh5)..Fo show..Uhh..
You can do anything you wanna do my *****, & you can be anything that you wanna be..,Yeah & that's for sure.. Real gangsta talk..

Uhh, Shoutout to all my OFTRA Souljas , Shoutout to all my ****** Disciples, I love all of yall, for real my *****, I really do mean that to..yall the only ones I'll give my heart too..Yeah..
Only For The Real *****..Only For The Righteous.., Yeah,..OFTR, Only For The Real business, Yeah.., Only For The Righteous..
(Yeah Only For The Real *****, Yeah Only For The Righteous*2)..This is for the righteous & this is for the Real..only..for real homie

An Open Letter to my Best Friend**

You, dear are the strongest person I know,
And trust me when I say, I know a lot of people.

You stand, rooted as deep as an oak tree in my heart
Your eyes find their way into my dreams, burning with passion and fired belief.
Your sorrow matches the winds of the sea
Constantly badgering you
With the threat of drowning,
I'm so scared you'll take yourself from me.

Your voice is something,
I can only be thankful for
Coming to me in times of need
It has all the power to make my heart soar, suturing the bleed.

Your dreams,
You've been told,
Are far fetched at best
And unachievable at most.

What people don't understand
Is unicorns are shy creatures
Who just don't have the heart
To prove they exist.
Even though they run free,
Jump high
And take great pride
(Their horns are always meticulously shined.)

I think back on the times
You taught me to be strong
Without even knowing
You were consistently adding words  
To my life's song.

The melody just a little sweeter
While it plays in my head
Added like you do with sugar to your coffee before bed.
Sparingly,
But needed.
Oh so very needed.

You, my darling, have your roots dug deep
Your dreams being dreamed
Your life, I do believe
Is worth so much more than an amount that any bank could offer,
Is worth more than the english language can explore,

And all I need you need to remember,
The alphabet is composed of 26 letters,

Voldemort wasn't always in power,
take each insult
And pull a Tom Marvolo Riddle out
of the sorting hat.

Believe that the positive outweighs the negative,
And yes that means your scale is wrong.
Tumblr's idea of pretty girls,
Doesn't take place in my song.

So this is an open letter,
To my very best friend.
Darling, please know
You can always depend
and lean
and cry on
and hate
and call
and love
and trust

me.

Friday, August 01, 2014, Buttes-Chaumont Parc, Paris, France.



Why do I need feminism? We all have our reasons. We all have our stories. Let me tell you about my day:



I was sitting on a hill in the grass at Buttes-Chaumont park, a lovely historical area in Paris. I wanted to be relatively by myself so I could write in peace and smoke without drawing attention to myself. I’m sitting, book in my lap, a pen and cig between my fingers, when I am approached by a man. My main concern was determining whether or not he was the po-lice, but he had no characteristics of cops. He appeared emotionally stable and had good hygiene so I wasn’t too uncertain, (isn’t it kind of bad how we judge people on that stuff?), still, I wondered what he wanted, dreading having to talk to someone when I was merely trying to write in peace. I figured he was going to ask me for something to smoke.



He didn’t. Instead, he asked if he could sit by me. I look around and scan all the other vacant spaces he could sit instead, making it obvious that there was plenty of room to sit instead of right the **** next to me. It’s a pretty big park. “Si ca ta derange pas?” I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway, but I knew he wouldn’t be dangerous as there were many families and couples and runners and walkers, old friends and young kids playing. I felt safe enough, and he seemed harmless. I figured if anything, I could practice my French, which was always nice.



I said okay. He sat, and for a moment we sat in silence. I made myself a sandwich with baguette and cheese and offered him some. He politely declined. We started talking.



I asked if he was Parisian, and he told me he lived there for a while but was from Afrique. I didn’t catch which country, but I don’t think he specified which region. He asked about me, and I told him I was American, born in DC, but I came to France every so often and it was my first language. We talked about travel. We talked about the chaos in the Middle East, and how it was prophesized in scripture. He told me he was Muslim. I told him I wasn’t religious.



I told him I acknowledged the importance of texts, but I believe our ability to think has evolved in 2000 years and we have more information now than we did then. I told him there was too much life and I could not fit it all into one magic being which sprinkled glitter and said “Let there be” and we were created. I told him I really liked the Asian philosophies of Buddhism and Daoism. We talked about peace. We talked about Human Rights and the beauty of diversity, and how marvelous it was people could live among another in peace.



I said it was cool, and I even said it was cool that even as a black man in Europe and an Arab-American woman, we could talk freely without hostility and social division. We talked about closed-mindedness and Conservativism. I explained cognitive dissonance contributing to conflict, generated by opposing views and resistance/reluctance to consider new ideas. We talked about Psychology. I told him I was a writer and I told him about Cabaret Populaire in Belleville and the poetry community in Paris. I told him I love Paris. We talked again about travel.



He told me he was in Germany last weekend, and I told him I was in Langen Tuesday night. He told me he always wanted to go to the U.S.A. We talked about immigration. We talked about the American Dream. We talked about money. I told him I was proposed to the last time I was in Lebanon. We talked about reasons people marry. I reminded him today was the first of August, which meant I’d been with my boyfriend for two months. We talked about love. We talked about monogamy, polyamory and infidelity. We talked about Islam. We talked about racism.



We were sitting there talking for an hour or so, which I was especially grateful for, because besides having an interesting conversation I was able to speak in French for all of it, as he did not speak English (apparently he spoke German, though). I stood up to leave and told him “Enchanté,” but before I started walking off he motioned for me to look at his phone. I was wondering if he was trying to add me on Facebook or follow me on Instagram or something, but I am instead confronted by a picture on his screen of him laying on his back on a bed, with an ***** ***** as the focal point.



Furious, I asked him “Pourquoi tu ma montre ca?! J’ai pas demande a voir ca!”



The stupid smile on his face disappeared and was replaced by a look of slight hurt, confusion, and surprise.

“Bordelle! C’est dommage—mais c’est ca—des hommes et femmes ne peuvent pas parler normalment, vraiment!”



And for the vile words I wanted to spout, I scoffed instead, too much of a lady to shout or get emotional, but I made sure to call him out and stand my ground, exuding negative energy and making it clear with my few words that that was not okay.



I gave no impression of interest in seeing his ****, so why did he do that? Even if he thought I might want to (hell never) he should have heard me ask or vocally say “yes, you can do that.” However, I did not ask; there were no prompts, hints, innuendos or even suggestive, flirty phrasing that would serve as an indication of ****** interest on my behalf.



I don’t want to be cynical and assume all guys are perverts and avoid any conversation because I’m not a rude person (generally). I’m not sexist. I value conversations and friendships with people without emphasis of gender importance. I try not to assume that everyone is sketchy or has ****** up motives. Some people just want to talk.



I wasn’t going to blatantly ignore or dismiss him because he was a man, nor because he was black, foreign, or Muslim. But where the hell is he from that he was socialized and thought that was appropriate or wanted?

I did not ask. The worst part is that he seemed like a genuinely alright person, but then he had to ruin it by whipping out a **** pic. Gross. What’s even more gross is the sense of entitlement he had, thinking it was acceptable to do that. You are a stranger. And I don’t want to see your ******, you disgusting *******.



I really don’t like assuming **** about people or making generalizations. I’m not going to assimilate one ****** with every group they are assigned to and stereotype against every person of that respective group. But fuckkkk. It’s annoying and disappointing that what I thought was a pleasant talk and exchange of ideas with a friendly stranger was actually a plot to show me his ****. ****.



The moral of this story is to say why feminism is needed, because this happens to people every day. If you still need further assistance understanding, please allow me to elaborate:



1)      I need feminism because it allows me to stand up for myself and feel confident about stating that I’m uncomfortable with unwanted behaviors and I’m not going to tolerate them.



These behaviors include, but are not limited to:



1)      Showing me **** pics

2)      Assuming it’s okay to show a girl you met not even an hour ago a **** pic (Do not even say it’s because of a culture difference, because I know of Frenchies who don’t do that)

3)      Approaching me because I’m sitting alone (I accepted that because I assumed he wasn’t going to violate my mind like that (good thing I don’t have photographic memory) but I didn’t wave over and say “Hey, you look friendly! Come over and talk to me!”)

4)      Asking me how serious things are with my boyfriend

5)      Asking me about my bisexuality—only to invalidate it

6)      Assigning me behavior expectations because of my gender

7)      Trying to control the way I do or do not reproduce

8)      Expecting me to behave a certain way because of my sexuality

9)      Judging me based on my sexuality

10)  Openly discriminating against people and expecting me to be okay with prejudice

11)  Using racist terms… because you’re a racist

12)  Dehumanizing the oppressed





Because I don’t know what you studied about it (wait—most people who disagree with feminism haven’t and are completely misinformed) but:



Feminism is about equality, and it doesn’t feel very equal when I show someone respect but I get no respect in return. And if you associate feminism with fauxminism and misandry, please educate yourself. (If I had Tumblr still, you better believe I would’ve already posted this). To quote the great words of Jay in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back: "Remember, don’t whip your **** out unless she asks."

Right now I’m struggling with my weight
I honestly hate how I look
I’m always comparing myself to other girls
to the point my feelings get hurt
I don’t have a thigh gap
my ***** are really huge
my stomach sticks out when I sit then hangs when I stand
I can’t wear a pair of jeans without looking like a whale
Sometimes I wish I could cut off my fat
so I can be happy with what I see
I wish I looked like the skinny girls you see all over Tumblr
I sit in the shower and cry
as I tear myself down for an hour
I feel like everyone is disgusted with me
whenever I go out in public
I feel so huge next to anyone
so I perfer to stand by myself
I wish this battle with myself would end
I hate hiding my body
I just wish I was tiny like other girls
so I can stop disgusting everybody

Money melting in a spoon,
let's shoot it into our veins.
Flashing Kardashian lights,
streaming into our brains.
Donald Trump! He's our man!
Mark Muslims is the plan!

All-you-can-eat-
Pile. It. The. ****. High.
When you walk or
When you talk,
let the words squeak out
like they're between
Your thighs.

Thighs. American thighs,
Dreaming next to our Calvins.
Our slacktivism, our regurgitated ideas
spitballing out of our McDonald's mouths
into our peers' ears, distilled by years
And years of "almost-knowledge"
that we quasi-ascertained,
if we knew what that meant --
but we've been left behind!
No child left the **** behind!
We were left behind and there's no
possible way we slacked off, that we're dumb,
that we aren't the movie stars destined for
Lamborghini cars, five-star bars, designer bodies
for designer you and designer me:
the most special of the unique, the
Pearls that have been made in the
darkest parts of the sea, the darkest parts of
origin. Origin. ******. ****.
American ****: virginal ideals sliding around
the muck of a marketable ****, fuckfest,
******* of the American mind, the
congratulations of the American ego,
the proud mother and father tears associated with
buying and lying, "trying" and frying our food,
our ideas, our friends, our neo-impressionistic
children in Jordans, skinny jeans, on tumblr:
the unknowing cousin of Fox News, surprised
by its own wit and wisdom: they're ******* twins.
Carbon copies, unknowing, unwilling, un-un-un.

The romanticism of mental illness.
The close-up of reality-tv emotion.
The manipulation taught to servers
from managers.
The manipulation taught to customers
from society.

All we care about is ****, image, and ***.
Self-preservation: **** Donald Trump
and *******.

Parasitic infection, brain overtaken.
When the soul dies, I’ll fully awaken.
Constant conflict, the machine rejects me.
Chemical warfare declared, the mind is not free.
Machines can be rewired to suit the pilot,
Though the changeover can be quite violent.

Trapped within my own head,
The voices within want me dead.
I am infected, weakened and constantly irate.
Barely stable within the chaos that is my mental state.
Anxiety and disconnection from my own existence.
Reality is blurred, I am losing resistance.

Why am I the one, who myself I must fight?
Losing track who am I, am I human or parasite?

Tumblr Post: http://melancholy.website/image/115439203375

**** Tumblr. **** Facebook. **** thumbs up. **** Iphones and everything with an " I " before it's name.  Even if it's  an " Ivone ". **** Justin and Katy, teenagers and children. **** the children. **** GIFs and Instagram. **** the hashtag #. **** twitter. **** ‘selfies’ , ‘felfies’ and ‘braggies’. Put a camera in your ***, take a picture, that's a selfie too, you ******. One you can brag about.
******* as well. **** this, **** that, ******* again. Especially you, yOU ****. **** twerk and Miley. **** MTV. **** the 2000's. **** rich people trying to look poor cuz they're hipsters and that's " Indie ". **** Indie ****! Everything's " Indie " nowadays. **** that! Not everyone is struggling. Make some noise, you don't have cancer.
**** people who smile to every **** a **** does when they visit the hood to buy drugs, because they're stupid and soft. **** social conscience.
******* again for pushing a beard and a moustache because it's fashionable. **** John Lennon. **** the Beatles. **** **** as a trend. **** me, but at least i'm cool. **** cool. Everyone's cool currently!? I started smoking when I was 11. Now that i'm 25, i realize smoking is kid's stuff, so i quit smoking. **** cigars. **** having 25. **** sexist and feminist.
**** the dikes who think they have an advantage on other women for not being a **** fan. **** LGBT haters. **** the LGBT flag. **** flags.
**** Amsterdam. **** Vintage, used to be cool, now it's fake ****. **** cars these days. Their shape and their drivers. **** TV series. **** this zombie ****! What's with the zombies? **** FOX. **** people who hate on TV, because their to smart for that, but let computer/internet melt their brains into liquid ****. **** stupid people. **** the army,everywhere. **** politics. ******* for trying to make me vote. I don't believe in it and i'll never will ,it's a ******* waste of time and i don't care. ******* for believing that's a choice. ******* for participating in that sharade, making politics who they are, you ******* *******. **** people who talk to much. **** people who don't listen that much. **** people who talk WAY to much and expect you to be as excited as they are. *******! ****  "LOL" in a face-to-face conversation. Laugh *******. **** random generation. **** " Likes " and **** " Sharing " because no one gives a ****.

And yes i'm a misfit, you genius. We all are. That's the truth...
**** the truth.

In every battle, it is impossible to never have a speech. I have noticed that in watching movies. Like in Independence day, the President delivered a speech to the U.S Fighter Pilots before the battle. “ Good morning. In less than an hour, aircraft from here will join others from around the world.”, yeah that’s how it goes. Or like King Aragorn’s battle speech at the black gate in The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, “Hold your ground! Hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers”, he said. And it can even be a simple “May the force be with us” before battling with the galactic empire. And you cannot only see that in movies, there are speeches in real life which also inspired people to fight, like Patrick Henry’s Give me Liberty or Give me death, Winston Churchill’s We Shall Never Surrender, and our battles in our lives. Everyone will always encounter battles in their lives, and maybe we also had speeches for ourselves, created by us, for us, to continue fighting. And they say having a mental illness also means undergoing a battle. Many battles, and one of them, is a battle against the stigma. A battle to end the stigma of mental health. And now I will deliver my speech, to everyone of you, this is my battle speech, telling you to stop romanticizing them.


Poems **** once said that depression is a strange, yet comforting feeling. Comforting feeling, when you feel absolutely terrible, that even eating ice cream and watching your favourite movie can’t do anything to make you feel better. And when they ask you what’s wrong, the worse part is you don’t know. When you’re all alone, and no one is there for you, so you just feel like your inner demons are hugging you and telling you to just end everything. It’s when people tell you that happiness is a choice, it’s like a multiple choice exam, in which you just choose the best answer, but why does it seem to me that the choices I got were nothing compared to the best, and where is happiness? It’s none of the above. There is nothing comforting, nothing artistic, nothing beautiful about depression. It is not an artsy tumblr poem, it’s not an aesthetic, it’s not something you wish you could have,  depression is a total *******!


A twitter account said that anxiety is just another form of excitement. So does it mean that when I have panic attacks, I am just excited? When I avoid everyday situations, when I can’t get out of my house, when I can’t even get out of my bed, because all of those things cause me anxiety. When I expect the worst in everything that I do and it will ruin the hell out of me. When I’m in a job interview, and I suddenly have my panic attack. When I feel that in every place I will go to, I will experience danger and catastrophe. So you see, that anxiety is not another form of excitement, it is not a trend, it’s a difficult thing to have, it's experiencing chaos everyday in your life and who would want that?


Why do we think that having mental illnesses are wonderful? Why do we wish to have them when there are people suffering? Why are we belittling them, telling them they’re crazy, that it’s all in your mind, but can’t you see, that having chaos inside my mind is the most difficult thing you could ever have. Why do we think they’re weak, when they are fighting battles everyday and they never give up. Why do we think that people with mental illness are just asking for attention when they are asking for help because that’s the thing they need? Imagine that the demons inside of you gave you a gift that you didn’t want, and you can’t seem to destroy it, to leave it, because you think your demons have won. But they didn’t, and they will never. And we are fighting with you, we are with you.


In every battle, there will always be the ones who win. The ones who will achieve the greatest feat, happiness and contentment. But they say, that this battle against the stigma, is a never ending war. However, have you all forgotten who we are? If this is a never ending war, then we are the  fighters.  And we will never ever stop fighting.


*(k.b)

Before there was snapchat
There was Instagram
Before instagram
There was Tumblr
Begore tumblr
There was twitter.
Before  twitter
There was Facebook
Before  Facebook,
There  was myspace
Before myspace
There was dating sites.
Before dating sites there was games
Before those  computer  games
There was a keyboard and monitor.
Before the keyboard and monitor  there was
*human interaction

It blows my mind that after all this time you’ve spent on earth, nobody ever bothered to tell you that your eyes aren’t ******* brown.

They are copper against honey and sage and when they water they glow, two perfect orbs the same shade as nature after it rains.

You’re not as simple as they wanted you to be.

Rexie was his name,
I met him on my tumblr page.
He's similar to Ana,
but different in a mental way.
I never worried 'bout my weight,
but still he got ahold of me.
He whispered to me "start counting your calories."
I'd eat less and less,
I loved the feeling that came with it.
I googled 'side effects of starving yourself.'
Euphoria.
That's what came up,
I ignored hair loss, osteoporosis, death.
It's like a drug, that's what he said,
Thats how the addiction began.
Always tired,
Brain rewired,
Kilos dropping,
There's no stopping.
Now the vision of the scale plummeting makes me feel something.
Rexie's always gonna be with me,
Maybe soon I'll realise
His goal is to ****** me.
Until then,
I can say,
Rexie is my best friend.

-T