I like to think of myself as a decent person, but the next person to comment “milk chocolate princess” on one of my instagram selfie can expect me to kill them in the harshest way possible.
I swear to God, I am not a princess. I’m not even “ladylike”. If anything, I am your king. Fuck around and find out what’s good. See if I’m playing.
Next, we can all see that I’m black. I don’t think there’s a need to state the obvious. I don’t see a point in bringing attention to my skin color. Like, can I not just be a princess or do you have to specify that I’m a black princess? That’s a red flag; anyone who says shit like that immediately give off bad vibes to POC.
Just because I have sex does not mean that I am not asexual. I can’t tell you how many times people have invalided my sexual orientation. There’s a difference between allosexuality and asexuality, and both are a spectrum. I don’t know how these rigid standards of defined sexuality came to be, but we need to destroy them. I shouldn’t have to defend my sexuality.
Why is is socially acceptable for people to touch my hair without my permission? Why? Am I a fucking zoo animal? Am I here for you amusement? I know I did not put four hours into styling my hair for you to come and put your crusty hands in it. And I know my people did not endure human petting zoos for me to be treated like a display. So no, you cannot touch my hair and don’t fucking ask. (And like, do people realize how weird it is to just touch someone else’s hair? Have you no respect for personal boundaries? How would you feel if I just stuck my hands in your hair? Wtf!?)
Of course, I make exceptions for the rule. There are specific people allowed to touch my hair. The list includes me, my mother, my hair stylist, and my S.O. Everyone else gets and automatic “no❤️“.
Guys have to stop wearing cowboy hats. For real, I can’t cope. I was watching Community earlier (I’m in the first season, lol), and Joel McHale in a cowboy outfit is everything. And that bottle opening trick is so overused, but it was totally hot. I’m not even gonna pretend like it wasn’t hot.
Sometimes I wish I was normal. I hate being... the way I am. I went into the grocery today and there was a lady without a mask who kept trying to talk to me. She followed me around the store the whole time I was shopping. It gave me some really bad anxiety. When I get stressed or nervous, I start trembling and depending on how bad the situation is, I start ticking. I was about to check out, but then I started shaking so bad that I couldn’t stand up any more. This had already drawn attention to myself, so I became even more stressed. Then the ticking started and I couldn’t stop hitting myself. I was screaming and acting like a fucking child. I definitely scared some kids, and I got kicked out of the store. I literally broke down crying in my car because I embarrassed myself in front of strangers. I wish I could just be normal. Normal people would’ve just told the lady to leave them alone, but I was too scared to talk to her. I’m not good at talking to people. I loathe myself.
I’m just gonna write a fully unfiltered paragraph of what goes on in my head. You have to read this as fast as you can do you can understand how fast my brain is moving.
There’s about five things happening as I write this. I’m hearing All The Time by The Strokes, I’m try- shut up, I’m trying to think. Fuck, what was I talking about? Ugh, whatever, I guess this is- wait, that damn song - is that... oh, it’s Green Day now. Something off of Nimrod, but it’s too distorted to hear. Sounds like Uptight. Shh, I’m trying to focus. Wait, is there another voice in my head or am I just responding to myself- SHUT UP, I CAN’T EVEN GET OUT A SINGLE THOUGHT WITHOUT SOME... Hmm, I like that song. Wait, a mashup of Selfless and One Way Trigger? That makes me uncomfortable. Where the fuck was this going? *silence* PLEASE SHUT UP, OH MY GOD I CAN’T THINK, PLEASE 😭😭😭. Why is that damn song playing in my head, just stop! For the love of God, please! *sobs harder* I have a headache now. My head hurts really bad- that damn song! WHY!? Can we at least play something else? Can I get a nice indie song? Something like Wallows? Oh... Rex Orange County. That’s nice. Are we good? Can I focus no or are we gonna keep going back and forth? Why am I talking to myself? People are gonna think I’m crazy. But i am crazy. Only crazy people talk to themselves as if there’s another being that will answer back. Whoever I’m talking to- wait, what’s that noise? WandaVision is a good show. I like it. And I like Paul Bettany’s ass. Those slacks do wonders for him. Actually, can we not go there? I don’t want to think about that. Hey, can you do me a favor and... what was I saying? Oh, we’re still playing that one Rex Orange County- I smell sex and candy, yeah. I guess not. It’s Marcy Playground now. I like that song. Why can I not stop thinking about Paul Bettany’s ass? *laughs* Okay, you got me, can we move on? Please? Huh, what was I doing? What’s the purpose of this? Oh, wow, it’s been thirty minutes. Oh, back to Rex Orange County. We di- what’s the name of- McKey was it? *many thoughts at once, all overlapping each other* What was I doing? AW HELL NO NOT THE SWMRS!! THAT SONG IS SO ANNOYING ANYWAYS. But Miley Cyrus is hot. *long pause* I should probably wrap this up. I feel like- MILEY YOU’RE A PUNK ROCK QUEEN- shut up! Where was I? Hanging ‘round downtown by myself and I’ve had too much caffeine- hey, you too. Alright, that’s enough.
That’s ADHD and OCD on display. Those damn intrusive thoughts are really uncomfortable. Usually when I get intrusive thoughts, I start tapping my fingers on a hard surface rapidly. Since I was typing, I didn’t really do anything. There’s a lot more torture swirling around in my head as I type this. A lot more intrusive thoughts. I hate this. I hate being like this. I wanna cry because it’s so hard to function. I wish that I could be normal 😭.
Well, that was a shit show. I’m too mentally exhausted (wait, sorry, there's the guitar solo from Not the Same Anymore playing in my head) to try and form coherent sentences.