A Negrita's Narrative

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  • You didn’t ask for this, but I don’t care.

    First things first, I don’t wanna hear anything about the word negrita. This is a nickname that I adopted in the Americas so don’t worry about it. To me it is not racist and I am very much black, so if I don’t have a problem with it, neither should you.

    Now that is out of the way, welcome.

    DISCLAIMER: If you are sensitive please leave. This is where I’m going to TALK MY SHIEEET. I do personal vlogs but it is not enough. Some of the topics I will be talking about will be quite sensitive and personal to me (mental health). I apologise in advance for any triggers, your girl truly has PTSD. (it’s no laughing matter, but I am a dark humourist who is self-deprecating and laughs at their own trauma, ha).

    I am treating this as my personal diary but with an audience. Venting is good. So much is bottled up, and you never know who you’re reaching. I won’t be talking shit all the time by the way, hopefully I can actually help someone out there with my experience and transparency.

    Anyway, welcome to Negrita’s Narrative. May your days be brighter than mine.

    Oh yeah, I’m also Bri*ish so that would explain the use of u and s and whatever else we do differently from American English. I hope my American viewership have the competency to understand what I’m saying. Love you all.

  • Second place is the first loser

    “When would I stop being second choice? Would I ever be number one to the person I cared about most in the world?”

    A Meredith Walters

    The following entry makes reference to real life events and contains graphic descriptions of themes pertaining to suicide, depression, self-harm, and sexual abuse. Reader discretion is advised.

    In the past 6 or so weeks I have dropped about 7 people. Two of them whom were actually around when I went to hospital from my overdose and bleach drinking and all that jazz. I am a controversial person, but I always keep it real when I feel that people have stepped all over me. I am not even going to explain every situation in detail but as usual, Negrita is the LAST person to be considered, the LAST person anyone ever cares about, and the one that will always be there so they choose to mistreat and play in my face. Not anymore.

    How many times have you been the friend that they glossed over? The friend that they left for their boyfriend, girlfriend or best friend? Maybe they just don’t like you enough to even reply. This situation has happened to me wayyyyyy too many times in EVERY single capacity and it fucking H U R T S my soul. I once loved someone and we fizzled out because he wanted to attend to his close woman friend’s poor mental health who later became my replacement as the main woman in his life. This was after I had been slitting my wrist and was praying to God for me to die btw. Let’s not forget the lad who called me HIS best friend but blocked me everywhere because of his girlfriend. Tried to reach out to him because I thought something had happened, but nah I was blindsided. There are countless examples of these boyfriend/girlfriend/friend situations in my life where people just do not view me as worthy of their time or even consider my feelings in the slightest. Yet, instead of asking me and trying to understand, they call me crazy, tell me I’m jumping to conclusions, and say ‘you’re the only one with the problem’. Of course I have a fucking problem. I have divulged about suicide attempts, chronic illness, sexual abuse and so on and so forth, to be met with a lack of support. I just want a friend that looks out for me the way I do for them. Why is that so HARD to obtain and so HARD to understand? I really don’t know anymore…

    The other day I was walking home peacefully, minding my business. I saw the guy that stealthed me. He not only stealthed me, but after we had sex in 2017, told a number of people (including his ex girlfriend) that I was a whore, and explicitly described our sexual encounters to people in detail, including to MY own ex. He also did revenge porn on me some years prior and threatened to kill a potential unborn life btw but again, not relevant to the story, but you can see how ugly he is as a person. His ex and her lackeys were running a smear campaign about me on Instagram and Snapchat, but because I don’t even use the damn platforms, I was told by 2 mutual friends of ours that they were talking about me. 2017 was a long long time ago, but when I saw that boy a couple weeks back (not worthy to be called a man) I felt so much distaste. He attempted to talk to me, as that stupid gender does when they disappoint women and realise their wrongdoings, but I just could not have it from him. He is a despicable human being that should leave me alone for the rest of his life. How does this fit into what I am saying? At the time of me having sex with him, he was apparently ‘in love’ with me. I didn’t have feelings for him but was definitely sexually attracted to him. We were definitely a bit more than just friends, but that didn’t take away from the fact that I could talk to him like one. After all, he was around when I was slitting my wrists in 2016 and going to therapy, making me feel somewhat ‘safe’. So can somebody explain to me how one goes from professing their love for me to stealthing me, slandering me to their EX girlfriend (they were exes at the time)? He did not give a f u c k about me. One of his close friends had recently passed during that time, so I guess he took the opportunity to take advantage of that situation as well. I was literally the person that he cried to on the phone, I brought him stuff in his grief. Made it my goal to conquer this adversity with him. Of course that is never enough, because people always want to do one over on Negrita, so he teamed up with his ex girlfriend to drive me into the mud and got back with her like they had accomplished something from tearing me down. Sheer proof that even when you help people they will happily stab you in the back. 7 years later, not even an apology, and that crazy girl has since left his life. I guess the enemy of your enemy really is your friend.

    Stealthing
    When someone removes a condom during sex without the other person’s consent or lies about having put one on in the first place.


    Stealthing is rape under English and Welsh law. • This means that someone who carries it out can be prosecuted for rape.

    Rape Crisis, England & Wales

    Every single day I am trying to hold it together. One of my close friends (a guy) he knows when shit ain’t adding up in my life and he tries to press me every single time for an answer, but I never tell him anything because I am TIRED. I am TIRED of feeling damaged. TIRED of explaining the same woes every single day, but with different wording. TIRED of being underappreciated by mere human beings who eat, sleep, and shit in the same way that I do. When will somebody go hard for ME like I do for them? NEVER. Because the whole world fucking hates my guts and I will always be that slag from secondary school, who ghosted on everybody because her mental health was so messed up that she tried to end her life in the bathroom. Although I have come a long way from that point, I was reminded last week why exactly I sabotage my relationships, and refuse to have feelings for anybody. They constantly tell you ‘oh you’re still so young you have your whole life’. Mate I’m 24 my life has been a living hell on Earth. People think I am being so unreasonable when I go around blocking and disappearing on people, but genuinely I cannot help it, because if I didn’t I probably would have been in the loony bin by now. The end result is always the same, it gives me peace because my soul craves solitude but it’s bad because I desire companionship. A double edged sword.

    Monologue:

    It finally dawns on you that you’re never going to win. When I say ‘you’ I definitely mean me. I cannot compete with the best friend or the boyfriend or girlfriend because that is a losing battle before it has started. I hardly ever get angry, but when I do, it’s like something you have never seen before. I have to reach a boiling point to get there but often builds up slowly and insidiously. How I was on Thursday night was how I was the same night I tried to end my life in September 2022. A violent eruption of rage and brokenness spilling out over the surface. Somebody unrecognisable and up until that point, usually ok at controlling their outbursts, because it’s not something I do often. Not sure if anybody remembers how I described that fateful September evening but that was a different Negrita entirely. I really wanted to set my house on fire that day and burn myself in it, and that’s when I knew that I seriously needed help. What is it about people that makes me so angry? When I pour my heart out to people, they run and tell somebody else what I have said, or they show them a voice note that I sent in confidence. When I give my heart to a friend or a lover, they completely destroy it every single time with their bare hands. Nobody comes to my defence and nobody sees me as somebody that they want in their life for a long time. I am writing this post bawling my eyes out whilst listening to How to Save a Life by The Fray. I put that song on anytime I feel like I am on the verge of doing something dangerous or destructive to myself. I don’t physically self-harm anymore but my thoughts in themselves are dangerous as it is, and that is enough. I am currently going through a mental health crisis, and I don’t look after myself when I have them, I’m more focused on looking after whoever is breaking down around me. Maybe that’s my problem. Being so consumed in loving and making sure that others are ok, that I abandon myself? Why am I doing that when I have just mentioned that these people don’t even give a shit that I am dead or alive. Not a single one of those 7 people have even attempted to reach out out to me so why should I care? I lied, only 1 did, why? To defend their best friend against the wrath and thunder of Negrita, not because they actually GIVE A SHIT about me, my feelings, or my health after everything we have been through and how much I have poured my aching heart out to them. These people know my mental health is very unstable but they will never understand it, they really don’t care. Nobody ever will. I know that I laugh about it, because it is funny usually, but it is coming to the point of not being funny. These people literally pick and choose when they want to talk to me. How is that fair? How many times am I going to shed tears over the same thing? They will ALWAYS choose another fucking person over me, knowing that I will run myself into an early grave for them, because I’m not important. Worthless even. I’m soooooo used to being everybody’s favourite after thought. I’ve stopped answering my phone calls entirely now. I have 25 missed calls in the past week, majority of which I saw coming through but just stared at. I find myself making excuses but it’s because I don’t have the energy to be on the phone anymore. I want to curl up in my bed and die. Escape these feelings of loneliness and torment everyday. The feeling of never being chosen or loved by anybody. Betrayed and put on the backburner by those I love all because they don’t love me back. I can even hear them gaslighting me now, “you’re overthinking it Negrita”. No the fuck I am not. You don’t see me crying in my bed everyday bro. You don’t see me doing my 5K runs pushing my body so much that I can taste blood. You weren’t there when I gave myself gastritis and started vomiting blood because I drank too much hoping to forget how painful it was to have feelings for a woman. Sitting there on your phone and feeling happy for all the success stories on LinkedIn but contemplating how your own life is literally a bucket of shit compared to them. Hearing the mention of somebody’s name that hurt you and feeling this big lump in your throat accompanied by palpitations that make you feel like you’re going to stop breathing. They were not there for that Negrita, so stop defending them. Nobody is choosing you, you’d even be lucky to be last on the list. They’re all living merrily with their REAL friends planning holidays, and nights out whilst you write this in your pitch black bedroom, crying and wondering why they never choose you romantically or even as a friend. It’s easy for them to just get rid of me and pretend I don’t exist, because nobody ever fights for me, or advocates on my behalf. Out of sight, out of mind as the saying goes. Well I’ll do them all a favour and disappear out of their lives for good.

    End of monologue.

    You see, I judge myself every single day when I look in that mirror and all I see is an attractive, yet disgusting and broken woman. A woman that cannot be loved by any man or woman properly. One that is often used maybe sexually or for having a great and open heart that gives a lot of love. Someone that wants the best for everyone but is drained by taking on other peoples burdens. Some people will read this and think that I’m being too hard on myself but they just don’t get it. I’m constantly living a complete lie and battling within myself, watching from the sidelines because nobody has MY back like they do for others. I am 24 living in my 14 year old pain, with years of bad experiences piled on top of it with each coming year, I still remain my loving self because I cannot change that part of me. Nice guys definitely finish last eh. It’s ok though, you lot can keep siding with each other and ostracising me, leave me alone to rot in my grave. Hopefully I die very young and before I ever fall in love and actually trust people again, because I’d rather die than go through heartbreak again. I don’t care how coarse and dramatic I sound in this entry, this is my blog and my feelings. Friendless 4 life.

    No one remembers who came in second…

    Negrita is going off the radar.

    *Mic drops*

  • The North-South divide

    “Some readers read a book as if it were an instruction manual…but of course when you write, you put into every sentence an overflow of meaning, and you create as many resonances and double meanings and ambiguities as you can possibly pack in there…so people get something new each time.”

    Hilary Mantel

    If you ever have the opportunity of meeting me in real life, you’ll know I am a sucker for innuendos and double-entendres. The oblique passive-aggressive nature of saying so much yet saying so little is Britishness in its true form. I make digs at people a lot, because I just do, but nobody takes me too seriously. That lightbulb moment people have when they finally resonated with what I said by that smile/giggle is all I need to make my day. My love for innuendos does not take away from the fact that I’m a straight forward person, so when words come out of my mouth, or even on text they sound blunt. However there is a time and place for both, and using them appropriately is the key to your success.

    I feel like at this point I should reiterate that I genuinely am a sweetheart (I shouldn’t have to say this at all) so please don’t think I’m mean lol. I’m just very open about my feelings and I cannot hide my dissatisfaction.

    The reason I started talking about innuendos in the first place is because I am currently experiencing some ambiguity. I feel like I should define the word innuendo for those who left English behind at GCSE:

    Innuendo

    • an indirect remark about somebody/something, usually suggesting something bad or rude.

    Oxford Dictionary

    Now that the definition is out of the way, I’ll continue.

    I went to the North the other day. North of England that is. It was actually my first time because the furthest I had been was the West Midlands. Manchester and Liverpool if anybody is wondering where exactly. Manny was nothing like Coronation Street, definitely more people of colour than I anticipated. I actually know somebody who lives there (she’s black) who showed/recommended some places for my friend and I. Their accents are inteligible and it is a city with charm and culture. They have their own Chinatown and Gay Village like Birmingham + a very extensive tramline. The trams in Manchester are filthy though, like every single one. The upkeep of cleaning them is not the best, I felt as if I was walking in Peppa Pig’s muddy puddles each time I stepped on and off of one. London Underground could never. Everywhere you go that isn’t London, their city centre is called ‘town’. Town up there was eventful for sure. The first night me and Indian boy saw a young boy lying on his back on the ground, with 2 police officers with a first aid kit going to attend to him. Poor lad, hope he’s alright. People just walked past like it was a normal thing though, which I get is something you would see very often in London, especially in the g h e t t o, but not in zone 1. We also went to Old Trafford (fuck Man United though, didn’t even bother going to the Etihad), Trafford Centre, Curry Mile, Central Library, University of Manchester. The full Monty really. Since it was a weekday, there wasn’t really an opportunity to embrace the nightlife as we had hoped, but I can tell those buggers get it cracking.

    Liverpool was boring, but they still have the best accent in the UK, argue with your dad. We visited Liverpool Stadium, the Albert Dock which was used as storage for imported commodities such as tobacco, cotton, and sugar. Then there was Liverpool ONE centre which is actually quite visually appealing, but living in London with easy access to Oxford Street and 500 shopping centres, these things are not appealing to you, y’know? I didn’t forget The Beatles, the most famous band of all time. Liverpool must worship them, because every street we went on there was a reference to them somehow, somewhere. I didn’t grow up listening to them though, so the statues, shrines, and museum meant very little to me to be honest. Their nightlife for sure is popping, but maybe because it was Thursday evening with bank holiday Friday the next day. Nothing for black people though. Literally nada. The clubs were playing indie, pop, dance, anything with white people as the artists. I need some Rhythm and Blues, even some rap, but nah. If i had gone in there I would have been called the n word mate, that’s how unblack their clubs felt. Every single black man we saw was also with a white woman, and all the black girls and boys we saw were the ONLY black friend in the group. It gave Get Out and purely whitewashed vibes. Maybe more people need to spread their wings and migrate there because we stuck out like sore thumbs. Mind you, who said it needs to be more ethnic? White people were there first before we came with our curries, jerk chicken, jollof rice. Let them have it sha, I’m not losing sleep over it because I’m from one of the best cities in the world.

    One thing about the North though, it knows how to RAIN. Those Northerners could NEVER be as wet as me even after torrential rain though, ask Ramona. Everyday was cold. I didn’t bring my scarf and gloves, but it wouldn’t have been such a bad idea if I had. It’s not the time to sweat uncontrollably anyway, we just entered Spring. You see the weather forecast saying that London is 2 or 3 degrees warmer but it makes a huge difference, just like with inches. As much as I enjoyed Manchester, I’m not sure how long I could fare that weather. Not sure how these lot do it up there, but big salute to them.

    The North-South divide is real because Rishi Sunak hates them lot up there, and thinks they should be poor. The North is never really considered in politics the way it should be, which leaves room for friction because we in the South cannot help that we are better than them. I am currently undergoing my own North and South battle internally with the centre (which in this case would be the Midlands) quite literally stuck in the middle.

    Imagine, everyday I wake up with anxiety. It doesn’t stop, it just feels like a clock of palpitations going round and around endlessly, but this one is not powered by batteries but by feelings. My heart (midlands) can feel it but my Brain (the north) basically tells it to shut up. Then we have the south which is my gut and my pum pum. If you have ever tried to mediate anything between individuals and they themselves didn’t know, I’m sure they were annoyed at first right? Your brain is the one who makes decisions, and it should be for everything because feelings change. What happens if all 3 are in accordance with one another? Do you go with it? Who knows, it depends on what the ramifications are. I wake up every single day still feeling this woman’s effect in the midlands and in the south, but up north I have to use common sense and logic as my compass. Up north is where the memories are though, so when I think about a positive experience like being cracked open like a walnut, the midlands and the south are jumping over the moon. The seeds have been planted inside me, but I still haven’t really come to terms with anything regarding the demise of that relationship because I’m confused. My mind races with thoughts constantly. Thoughts of feeling unloved and not wanting to find it unless it’s with her, but you really do have to tell your brain to shut the fuck up. Respectfully though, if she wants to, she can use that pencil she bought to scribble on my blank page any time of the day. The page often gets lonely and needs to be filled with some passion – besides I could always use the inspiration when it comes to writing. Just let me know bab.

  • Wonder Women

    “I have chosen to no longer be apologetic for my femaleness and my femininity. And I want to be respected in all of my femaleness because I deserve to be”.

    Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

    In the past 6 months I’ve had several women confide in me about the breakdown of their relationships with their significant other. Though it is a sad thing, I cannot shake the look of relief on their faces and realisation of getting rid of these men that were holding them back. I already made a post bashing men months ago, and I made it clear that I am semi misandrist, so you can report me to the police for this hate crime if you want to. Instead of bashing men, I will flip the coin on its head and use my energy to praise women since it still is International Women’s Month.

    Recently, my older cousin and I were having a discussion about the dating pool for young women. She was speaking to me as a married woman and asking me what dating opportunities are like for people my age group and younger. “Negrita, what would you say to someone that’s 18/19 and wants to date?”. Straight away I said “run for the hills”. I was dating a very nice man at 18, I could not commit to him though so there was no point. 19 years old was when I experienced my first real toxic boy – not man, red flags in plain sight and all, but I didn’t care enough because I was on a gap year fulfilling some of my dreams in Spain and preparing myself for the university train. That train wreck lasted longer than I wanted to admit but hindsight is 20/20. My cousin now happens to be going through the d word and getting back out there because once again, men are just menning. This is HIS second one, so it looks like he is the red flag. My point is though ladies, at all ages they are the same so don’t even waste your time, move swiftly onto the next and I’ll explain why exactly you are the prize.

    You’re probably sick of me mentioning Cali girl, but she’s a good reference point for somebody who I would trust with my entire life on her shoulders, and if any man or woman was out there seeking companionship, they would NEED somebody like her in their lives (the last post tells you why). The same goes for all the women I met at university and know from school who are avid dream chasers and doing their thing. All you have to do is open LinkedIn on my phone and the proof is right there. My international friends (I have more than just Cali girl), two of them are artists. Painting community murals and shop fronts on their own and as a hobby. I wish I could give some advertising here but I don’t want to dox people. Then there are my Spanish friends, one is a talented musician, who also models and travels the world. Another one is a fashion designer and makes her own clothes which are sustainable for the environment. Then there’s the one in the UK who is currently studying 2 masters and has her own dance company. Ah yes, then another one, she is a beauty pageant queen who is also a STEM student (I can’t remember the course), she is ALSO travelling the world. Everything that my female friends have going on here also goes without saying that they are fabulous and ready to do their part. These days you really do have to be multifaceted to stand out. Being pretty is alright, but there are many good-looking women in this world. I acknowledge that I’m not an ugly woman, but I never really lead anything with my looks. They’re something that people will comment on but I much prefer my personality.

    Back to what I was saying though, multifaceted is what a lot of women in my life are. I’m surrounded by estheticians with accounting and law qualifications, social workers and psychologists, mathematicians, teachers, doctors, nurses, chefs. Women can really do it all and I’m so so proud and so grateful that every single person I have been able to call a friend or a sister is conquering the world in their own unique way. When I take a look at them, they empower me to be the best version of myself. Life as I know it right now is a bit crap, because I feel stuck in the mud. Looking around me at who I have fills me with direction and purpose, because look at what my fellow Queens are doing. Why can’t I? The best part about it is that their humility literally rises to the top. We all have done madnesses in this life, but women are much less boisterous about their status and what they’ve achieved because they’re not competing in the same fashion as men, who make their assets and their job their whole personality. Women empowerment can often seem quite pretentious as there are usually stipulations that involve mutual back scratching. “You advertise my business and I’ll give you a supply of this”. I’m just making it up but that is more or less the gist. Women supporting one another can sometimes seem transactional, but it really doesn’t have to be. One thing the women in my life know about ME, is that I always have their back. Even in my disappearing acts, and when I feel like hell is crashing down on my spine, I will never not support a fellow womb warrior physically, mentally, spiritually, financially whatever it is that is required and within my own means. I love them and we as a collective deserve a lot better.

    That reminds me of last year when 3 women told me they were physically, sexually, emotionally, and verbally abused by their (ex)partners. I wish I could have gone to war for them, and I can’t fathom how difficult it must have been to even share that with me, but this is why I say that we are so precious and so valuable, it breaks my heart to see how somebody in their right mind could even think such a thing is ok? I spent copious amounts of time during my degree figuring out the situation of women in other countries, which has now inspired me to want to go hard for them in my own. Even if I can facilitate a small change just through writing, I would be more than happy to do that for you ladies, but no, I want to do more because sky is the limit.

    I write this with Usher’s Superstar in my head (f that man and his concert for real) and eyes welling up with tears. Here I go with the poetic stuff again, like all of you are Ramona:

    Ladies, I love you. I love how beautiful you make this world. Your kind gestures, your warm hearts, your ability to love others even when they have not loved you. In the midst of a planet that shows you little regard, you have not stopped doing what is fair and what is right. To the ones who cry the silent tears that none of us see, filled with sadness or pain but still keep fighting through the anguish. The others who are transparent about their struggles and still feel that there is no end, believe me it is coming. Those who are mothers, or have been mothers, carers to both young and old, you are blessed and you are recognised for your years of making sure that we as children are the best we can be. My girlies in education that want it to be over and it’s not, please do not overthink the results if they’re not what you want, or even if the studying process is very taxing, you already have it in the bag and it will take you to where you need to be. The working ladies are something special, please keep getting that coin, and just know we will be closing that gap between ourselves and the other sex. Even if you decide that the job is not for you anymore, you will find something that fits you perfectly. Any woman that is alone or feels alone, it sounds cliché but you are definitely not. Negrita has a heart for many, something which God has put in me because people can really be a nightmare, but I refuse to let them change who I am as a person. I’m sending love to the lonely women, who have some battles that they’re facing. I admire your strength and courage, and wish I was half the woman you are. Divorced, single, married, separated, complicated you are amazing at whatever stage, and no man or woman can or will ever define that for you. Finally, just tell YOURSELVES that you are everything you should be, because you cannot be somebody else, and nor should you want to. Your uniqueness has imprinted something into the world you live in, even if you do not recognise it, somebody else does. I hate to see you so distraught by that person who broke you down and didn’t see your worth, because I see it, and you are so magnificent it’s like being blinded by diamonds. So what if your beauty looks different to the next person’s? You’re gorgeous babe, tell yourself in the mirror even when you don’t think so. (Yes, Negrita has low self-esteem so it sounds invalid coming from her, but I tell myself how pretty I am in the mirror all the time – I just don’t like others telling me). Take that holiday or that day off work if you need to, I care about your mental and physical health. Surround yourself with positive things, other women, hobbies because we gotta stick together in this cold ass dog eat dog world. Lastly, do not compromise yourself for twats, let them miss out on you if they have to.

    I love you so much, we’ve got this together.

    🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

    (If anybody actually wants to reach out to me please email me at [email protected])

  • March M4dn3ss!

    “All of us might wish at times that we lived in a more tranquil world, but we don’t. And if our times are difficult and perplexing, so are they challenging and filled with opportunity.”

    Robert Kennedy

    This one’s a quickie. My quickies in real life used to be 1 hour long but this is quick quick. I’m back on the self-hatred train apparently. You guys realise that there’s so much BULLSHIT in my life, I have become (never really stopped) self loathing. I just have to laugh at every opportunity I get because it’s funny.

    In March last year, what was I doing? Struggling through gruelling hours of my dissertation, with 10 days left until the deadline. Ripping my hair out because of that pinche Spanish oral exam that I did surprisingly well on. Seeing my mental health nurse and speaking to my mentor. Obsessing over Eddie Nketiah and actually watching GOOD football streams (mandem please put me on abeg). Listening to the RENAISSANCE album over and over again for concert preparation. Facetiming men. Two of which are handsome and both happen to be half Spanish. Singing in the library and study rooms, not caring about who or what can hear me. Being approached by horny 19 year old boys with the ‘hello miss’, boy bye. Amidst all the chaos though, people would call me ‘beautiful’ and tell me to ‘stop being so hard on yourself’. My dissertation supervisor said that i wrote ‘with authority’ which gave me a certain confidence regarding my writing abilities. Went out to eat twice with my new Indian bestie, and realised we had a lot more in common than we thought (so he better tell his bloody Prime Minister uncle to f off). Needless to say, it was interesting. I would not go back if somebody paid me enough though.

    Now, so far in March 2024. Halfway through the month, I have cried some tears. Got into some heated arguments. Received threats. Been called HOMOPHOBIC, MANIPULATIVE, an UNKIND person and a BITCH, IMPULSIVE, UNSERIOUS. Had multiple people cancel plans we had arranged for no good reason. Men from ghost’s past trying to be with me. Not fulfilling my 5K runs as I should be. Did I mention I was called homophobic? Lol. The only slightly redeeming quality about this month thus far has been my friend’s birthday celebration – which might I add ended up with me not only losing my belongings, but my consciousness, and having to go to the hospital the following day, yay. So there’s that. My killy 4L though, love you girl. Oh yeah, and my other friend giving birth to a beautiful baby girl who I am yet to see. A brand new life is exactly what I need rn. So if anybody can pull any favours for Negrita, I would highly appreciate it!

    My Cali bestie went on a 10 day retreat recently as she is backpacking in Asia and is currently in India. I personally have never even watched nor read Eat, Pray, Love but feel as though I might have to, considering I’ve heard it being referenced like twice now this month. Her experience there sorta parallels what is happening in that story (enjoying life, spirituality, self-discovery, finding love) but hers is better because she’s a real person that I love. At any rate, the pursuit to find what she was looking for went successfully. No phones, no eye contact, no speaking. Just meditation in silence. I’m so happy that she got to do that, because you do really have to turn off the noise sometimes, and 10 days for someone like me, who ALREADY doesn’t use social media and enjoys being confined to her own space, sounds like nothing but a dream. The ruckus of March alone is enough to make me want to turn it off and skip to dutty December, because although it’s a noisiER month, there’s something slightly pleasing about becoming overweight from, sweets, chocolate, and mulled wine (I don’t even drink it). Muslims also started Ramadan this month. A time for strengthening their relationship with their creator, filled with spiritual discipline, charity, and generosity. Everyone has their own March quests and desires to become less self-involved, and I must say that they are very admirable.

    Easter is at the end of this month (love me some Jesus), and I do have some exciting things to look forward to before the month draws to a close. I want to turn my March Madness into Marvellous or Magnificent March. I need to start by not disliking myself so much and keep doing what I like but without a stink face. I am writing this with a black eye, so the stink face is stinkier than usual, but every time I look in the mirror I am still gobsmacked that it’s on my face. I’m so pretty, I know people are thinking I’m being abused or got into it with someone ): My Indian friend even called me ‘blackie’, not that I care about what Apu from the Simpsons has to say about me anyway with his tHaNk YoU cOmE aGaiN ass. Kmt. March cannot get any more mad than that. I’ll call it a battle scar on the long, windy road to self-love and appreciation.

    I just remembered it’s one of the Mr half Spanish’s birthdays this month and I know he hates his birthday. Last year I hated HIM on his birthday. That is a long story but we are good now, we do this shit nearly every year. Let me just message him real quick, see if I can make his birthday memorable. Hehe :p (get your head out that gutter).

  • Bittersweet tea

    “Bitter always follows the sweet, especially when it comes to love. Especially when it comes to forbidden love”.

    Karina Halle

    It always scares me how quickly the time flies. Does anybody else ever feel that way? It makes you want to appreciate things more before they slip away. In my life, they eventually do.

    Anyone who has actually read Romeo & Juliet will know that they both end up dying. Ramona and I are very much still alive and existing in this world so I would like to continue if that’s ok with you?

    I love FaceTime, I love phone calls, my text messages can appear very blunt if I’m not in love with you or sitting on your thang. Ramona and I would exchange messages here and there on WhatsApp and iMessage, she was warming up the stove for me. There were times where she would call me but I would see them too late, or at inconvenient times like me having just finished crying lmao. Of course there was also my desk at work where we would chit chat there and I told her one of my biggest ‘secrets’. I believe that until that point I was just playing hard to get, because I did mention being emotionally unavailable a few times, but I still found her cute.

    One day, I literally cannot even tell you how exactly it happened, but a spark went the hell off in mid January and I thought “mmmmm”. The girl always talks about having charm, and I honestly see why because she charmed me all the way to pound tow…. She literally came to visit me at my desk for at least an HOUR over her time, bearing in mind she finished 30mins ‘earlier’ that day. When she had gone, I was kinda sad and admitted over text that she gives me butterflies. Anyway, I needed to undo my hair later on in that same week, and who better to ask than your lil’ crush right? For those who don’t understand ‘undoing’ or ‘taking out’ hair. I am a black girl who wears braids, twists, and other forms of protective hairstyles with extensions to add length and preserve my hair. So I’m not literally pulling out strands from my follicles. At the time I had locs, which needed to be taken out and to redo another style. Capisce? Ramona and I agreed that I would go to her house so that she could help me remove them, wash my hair, the whole shebang. I got there sometime after 3 pm, why is it that we did not start removing them until after 10??? Can somebody explain 7 hours of WHAT??? KISSING. Not the whole 7 hours but some cuddling, kissing, more cuddling, more kissing. The level of comfort was through the roof, and I was the one who actually initiated the kissing in the first place because she was being shy with me! This girl and I live nowhere near each other, so I had no reason to still be at her house at this hour, so guess what? I ended up sleeping over.

    Before you ask, yes my hair was out, I didn’t think it would be. I stopped her several times in between each braid just to kiss her soft lips and stare at her gorgeous face. Bruh. I had a great time nonetheless. Not sure what it is about doing or undoing hair but the intimacy of it is c r a z y. If you wanna feel closer to your significant other (if they have hair or hair that they get styled) do it yourself one time. This doesn’t just apply to us black folk, but our hairstyles take the most time to do and undo, so expect to be there for a minute.

    That day really kicked things off for us, and I realised that I actually liked her. None of our communication up until that point had been in vain at all. I live in this fantasy where I try to keep my walls impenetrable, but that’s just my defence mechanism fighting for me like white blood cells. In real life I would have loved to open my heart to somebody but it just seemed impossible for me to do for nearly 2 years until she came along.

    Ramona likes to be in charge of everything. She is use to dominating in her relationships. Paying for everything, doing all the treating and spoiling. I told her before anything even happened, “babe, this is a two woman show”. Did she like that? No. Did I care? Not really. I saw her worth, and her as a person – someone who deserved to be treated delicately. A woman who has gone through hardships and losses herself and has not let it defeat her, like I have mine. Somebody actually worthy of my time, because I was giving it to fuckboys and Nigerians before. Even though both of those mean the same thing. Our first official date, I paid for it, after all the verbal tussling we did. Had some good gnocchi and drinks followed by drunken conversations with Spanish speakers. I be speaking that español with fluidez when I’ve had a few mate. You have to be there to believe it.

    We spent copious amounts of time together to the point where my mum thought I was getting ‘distracted’. I would usually go home to my bed, but I spent many nights in her bed. It felt a lot warmer and safer, and my insomnia seemed to be a thing that didn’t exist whilst I was with her. All this time we spent together, sushi, museum, brunch, eating kitty cat, love letters (yes I am corny as hell) we knew that we were both ignoring the elephant in the room. We were not endgame.

    This explains why I keep referencing Romeo and Juliet. Our families are not at war, but more so our lifestyles, morals, values, and convictions conflict with one another, which, when you look at the bigger picture, will only go downhill. My faithful and long-term readers will recall that against all odds and how disgustingly men have treated me, I still somehow envision my future with one. Growing a nuclear family (Ghanaian preferably) with God as our strength, and my husband doing all the hard work lmao. Ramona kind of put that into question for me because of how effortless it was to just be with her compared to how men make everything so laborious. I never thought I was asking for too much. I’ve cried SOOO many times in front of her and on the phone, she did not gaslight me into the depths of hell like the others. The big secret that I told her about me, instead of shaming me, she embraced me even more than I could have ever imagined. I honestly wanted to have the opportunity to fall in love with everything she is and can be. But at what cost? I don’t take pleasure in breaking people apart because I’m not sinister, and hopefully neither are you.

    When men talk to me on the street, or at a bar, or whatever the setting is, I find myself rolling my eyes and blurting out the ‘I have a girlfriend’ line. They’re very unappealing to me, and I have never really gotten back that spark for them. Lowkey I am a misandrist but I don’t care. Day in day out, she has put up with a lot of my bullshit, insecurities, overthinking, SELF SABOTAGING, CRAZINESS, and all the baggage I come with. Anybody in their right mind would not do that for real, especially not men, they’ll just cheat on you and tell you you’re the reason why. She tried to understand me as a person and is so gentle and patient with all my broken pieces. I shouldn’t say this but she was waaaay too good for me. I’m so used to undermining myself, that even a twig under a tree would not deserve to put up with me, so only God knows how she did. Ultimately though, it’s not her job to fix me, I have to do it myself.

    So, after an intense final week with her, I got that long awaited message, but it still really upset me and I still play it over and over again in my head. We met up again the following day because I wanted one last moment to share some sparks with her before I knew she was gone forever. There was prosecco, some macarons, a hotel, and some sexy lingerie in her favourite colour. Out of respect for her, let’s call it a night of profound passion of forbidden lovers. Cheers *clinks glass*. Nowadays it’s either radio silence or an argument. I told you lot we work together, so it’s better that both of us make the environment as comfortable and not awkward as possible.

    Do I miss her? Hell yeah. Are the feelings still there? Very much so. Not a day goes by where she doesn’t cross my mind, through the good, the bad and the ugly. The memories, the patience, the understanding, the entire cultivation of that relationship I will cherish forever. I have never met somebody so defiant and so hellbent on making their other half feel like they belong so much. I’ve told her several times, and probably mentioned it in the last post, that her whole being is so vibrant and illuminating. That breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed to actually trust somebody and feel close to them again. She reignited that flame of possibility for me, something which many have failed to do in the past year and a half. Sorry I’m a writer, so I do tend to get a bit Shakespearean and just start writing from the deepest depths of my heart.

    So I’ll end with this:

    Dear Ramona,

    Should you ever see this, just know that all that you are is amazing. All that you can be is even better than that. Our laughs, tears, cuddles, and memories were as fruitful as strawberries in Spring. It’s said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Although your soul has been crushed by certain things, I still see a distinguished, beautiful, and well poised woman before me. You have taught me things about myself that I didn’t want to confront, but have helped me to grow in the most spectacular way. Your honesty and kindness have infiltrated all the scorched parts of my being and provided a soothing and fresh layer of meaning to my life, where I believe I can conquer anything. I miss your bright smile, which lights up every room, your adorable dimples and that weird but memorable laugh(s) (there’s more than one). Those inviting brown eyes which tell a tale or two. The smooth, light brite skin which I would place my infant sized hands on to pull you in for smooches. Let me not get into those lips and tongue girl…Is it hot in here? My ravishing Ramona, thank you for sharing these moments with me. I feel blessed and honoured to have been a part of you. Who knows where this journey will take us both, but the feelings that you have given me are everlasting.

    Lots of love,

    Negrita.

    xoxo

  • Time for tea!

    “She was both everything I could ever want…
    And nothing I could ever have…”

    Ranata Suzuki

    I remember over a year ago I was stalking that disgusting piece of work’s (y’all know who if you’ve been here from the beginning) social media and he called his chunky monkey his ‘muse’. I said hmm, ok. Don’t worry I’m way past that now, but in my head I was thinking… Not actually going to say what I was thinking because then they will accuse me of domestic t*rrorism. A muse though? What determines somebody or something to even be your muse? Come to think of it though, he was my muse at one point because I would not feel so confident in my storytelling if he hadn’t fucked up my heart and splattered it all over the carpet. Hey, inspiration has to come from somewhere. Somebody else has become my muse recently though. A tale of forbidden love I’d say. Not a Romeo & Juliet ting though. More like RAMONA and Juliet.

    Yes, you guessed it. Meow.

    You better start by thanking her because really and truly, I NOW have a spur of inspo to actually get back here and write. Miss thang read my blog from start to finish one day as I had given her the link to know more about me, without having to explain a damn thing. Honestly, I know how people’s attention spans can be, especially when it comes to reading, but she said she was HOOKED immediately.

    Seguimos. So RAMONA and I have a funny story for real because the pursuit for me was long, but I was just emotionally unavailable, as you lot already know. She had the hots for me from July 2023, not that I blame her, and sought out anybody who knew me personally to try and make a move. That was unsuccessful because we didn’t have any mutuals so obviously she had to bring out the big guns to get to me. I’m trying to tell the story without revealing too much but yes, I was mixing the business all up in the pleasure gworl. I work with her fine ass🤦🏽‍♀️ I always discourage people from doing this because it can end very badly (all mine have) but this story is sweet enough to say that it did not end like that.

    So July 2023, graduation week. I was looking GOOD those times, so her pursuit was absolutely valid. She caught a glimpse of me, and greeted me, because us coloured folk do that in an environment where there aren’t that many of us around – solidarity. Apparently I was standoffish, but honestly my face is just like that sometimes and I’m not a shy person, so I couldn’t tell you what was going on with me that day. I guess that interaction left her wanting more…

    Fast forward, I took some leave off work to attend my graduation and what not, so naturally people had assumed I left. I reappeared from the cracks of Michael Jordan’s ass and I hardly saw this woman again too. Wasn’t thinking about her anyway but just wanted to put that out there. We work in two different departments (my department had a refurb and was new) and back then we were on opposite floors (ground and 28th – very top) so seeing her during my shift was next to impossible. We were limited to break times only, even then it was few and far between. It wasn’t until SHE had moved department directly next to mine that there was more of an ‘appetite’ for me.

    I’m explaining the logistics and I know you’re bored, I am too. I just want it to make sense to everyone reading before I get into it (will definitely need to write this in more than one part).

    It seemed as if I had loads of holiday during that time because in August I went to Belgium for a couple days then in September to the USA. Soon after, Ramona was making visits to my desk to talk to me, she had an insider informing her of my whereabouts in the building, and butting into my conversations with other people, she even managed to get my number without me giving it to her – creep (out of respect she didn’t message me). Orchestrated and calculated. It’s giving Joe Goldberg, but I’m crazy as hell so that is an absolute turn on if you ask me. Some of our colleagues actually approached me to ask how we were doing, but I was confused because even though I knew she was interested in me, not once did she say to my face “Negrita, I’m feeling you”. Babe, tell ME, stop telling these heifers because you’re giving them opportunities to gossip!

    If you read my last post, you would know my grandad passed. It was around that time period Nov/Dec between me being in Jamaica and after where Ramona started cranking up the heat and giving me fanny fluters. This girl talm bout she’ll ‘eat me in the cloakroom with one leg on the wall’???? (Yes pleaseeee LOL). Negrita, was too stunned to speak. Bro I could literally feel my body heating up and sweating, but I played it so cool by acting disinterested. You think after that I’m going to say no to mixing business and pleasure? I said to homegirl after we had our first hug like two virgins (it was so warm and tingly I wanted to lips off her ting), “I don’t mix business and pleasure, and I don’t take accountability”. So she should have read between the lines knowing that the first statement preceded the second for a REASON. I was absolutely going to mix and I was absolutely not going to take accountability for it. That is how forbidden love starts.

  • Dear Grandaddy,

    “Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.”

    Shannon Alder

    Loads of people I know, their grandparents died loooooong time ago. I’m talking before they themselves were even born. I can say I am fortunate enough to have met all four of mine, and known two in significant detail. Growing up in the UK did deprive my time with them, but the love never EVER felt like it was missing. For those wondering, they were deya yard. In the Jamaican countryside minding their business and watching their gameshows on the maximum volume that the big back televisions would allow. Accustomed to a lifestyle of agriculture, family, and the good Lord. Happy folks I must say. Visiting your country of origin as a person of colour will never not be a culture shock I swear, but it is invaluable and something you should aim to do if you find yourself with money burning holes in your pockets.

    My grandparents were part of the Windrush generation. The same generation of people who this UK government were deporting for not having ‘citizenship’ at 80 years old despite arriving here on their parents’ British passport at like age 2. This was not the case for mine because they arrived here as adults and went back to Jamaica in the early nineties after having bred pickney and creating a stable life here. Challenge complete. I feel for those other folks though. Alienated by your own society, the country you came from as a toddler couldn’t be any less of a home. What a shame. Still though, I wouldn’t mind being deported to Jamaica. None of you would hear from me again I’ll tell you that. New identity and mi would start bleach up mi skin. Joke, I’m not anti-black like some of you coons. Anyway, we know how that generation of people are (were – most of them dead anyway). Traditionalists at its core, no room for NO type of argument, everything that left their mouths had a prick to it. When tough love was in its prime. When my mum would tell me stories about how she was raised sometimes my mouth would be on the flooooor, because why would your OWN MOTHER say that shit lmao. She wylin’ about she’s calling you ‘fat’. Damn. This generation could never, because I know I can’t. Some of that still courses through my mother’s veins and the occasional fat slips out, or some degrading thing about my appearance. Whatever though because I get gyal and man.

    The father of my mother was definitely extraordinary though. I won’t lie, his tongue was sharp as hell. Even up until his demise, still sharp as ever. No dementia/Alzheimer’s/neurological issues. Arthritis 100%. He would help those who would help themselves, and might I say, that man was the one with money in this family mate. Money and sense. He was only supposed to come to England for a year way back in the 1950s. 1 bloodclaat year, at age 26. Nothing but a damn suitcase. He stayed, worked hard, bought a house, raised a family, took care of business and went right back. He understood the assignments across those 30 odd years. I wish I could have grown up with him around, because my own daddy ain’t taught me a damn thing. He had his head screwed on about real estate, agriculture, finances, the family unit, and overall being the loving man that he was. Some of these things sound sooooo bog standard and bare minimum, but your own man still clicks at age 26 and asks girls for their orders on Shein and PLT. Not the same b. Granted, it’s a completely different time and setting, but we’re really being babied in this society compared to what they had to go through, especially during the post-war period. Those days the coloured folk really could not do anything. Not my grandpops though, the exceptional exception. If you’re smart like me, please read the Rivers of Blood speech by Enoch Powell who was a Conservative MP of this not so United Kingdom in 1968. I promise you the speech is not boring, it speaks about Commonwealth immigration. Majority of you reading this were (your forefathers) captured by the snare of the British Crown. Didn’t even have a fighting chance, sorry. If you can’t read, it’s available on Youtube. I know that because I wrote an essay on it in my second year of university and was awarded a first-class for my brilliant work, so yeah.

    Back to my favourite Jamaican man. An absolute joker, probably where I inherited my sense of humour from. Super generous too. I would show you lot the footage of his funeral but then I’d be doxing my whole entire identity and lose the right to chat shit about everything. He gave people loans, food to eat, materials if they wanted to build a house, he even gave me money from all those miles away. I stopped receiving handwritten birthday cards from him only 5 years ago. Please bear in mind that 5 years ago he was already over 90 years old. Your grandad didn’t and won’t reach anywhere near 90, sorry. He doesn’t eat green banana, chicken foot soup, yam, pak choi, and all dem ting deh. Take note. One thing he always respected was a hard worker and people who were not idle. If you know me personally, you know damn well I’ve worked in every damn industry there is. I have had so many jobs, I would see acquaintances enter these different places where I worked and their mouths would be on the floor because they thought I was still at the previous job. No babe, I constantly seek change in my life. I HATE stagnancy. Every time my grandad would call to talk to me, best believe I would be at work. He loved that though, that I was tryna get my coinzzzzz and always anticipating the next steps in my life. Talk about encouragement. Sometimes your parents be shitting ALL OVER YOU. I know a lot of you can agree. Because they WaNt ThE bEsT fOr YoU. That I won’t deny, but a grandparent’s love just hits so different I’m not sure what it is. Maybe because they’re a generation removed from you than your parents. If my grandad and my mother gave me the same recognition for the same thing, I promise you it sounded much more pleasing coming from his mouth than hers. It doesn’t even make sense but I know everyone can resonate with me, so please nod your heads behind that screen so I can feel you agreeing with me!

    The last time I saw the man alive was many years ago believe it or not. It did NOT feel that way because of how frequently we used to speak. But my mum would be damned if I didn’t have a connection to her parents. That just could not run with her pushy ass. My dad’s mother passed in 2013 from Leukemia (hadn’t seen/spoken to her since 2009) and by the time his father died in 2020 he had dementia/Alzheimer’s so he didn’t actually remember who I was anyway. My mother’s dad would always reference death, even 10 years ago he had this obsession with dying. If you are from the Caribbean or of Caribbean heritage, you already know how that one goes. “Mi soon dead”. Like BFFR the Lord ‘doesn’t see it fit’ yet so live your life please?! In all fairness to him though, he said several times that he was ‘waiting around to die’. That funeral, the burial, the will, everyting planned from years ago. All us lot from the UK had to do was show up and smile. I even received £400 from the grave, because he put aside money towards his grandchildren’s airfares to attend the funeral in JA. Ladies, gents, others: a man with a plan. My mum saw that tomb way before he even died. Only God knows how he is interred there because that piece of land was for VIPs . A master negotiator. My grandmother will be right next to him when the unfortunate time comes but I hope she lives a very fulfilled life despite losing her soulmate after 67 years of marriage. Men always die first y’all, stay safe.

    My sharp as a tack grandad passed away 2nd November 2023. Aged 97. Ninety bumboclaat seven. Natural causes bro. I can’t even feel sad, nobody should be saddened by that. My grandma of course I feel sad for her but deep it, he outlived Queen Lizzy. That stupid Elizabeth Line should even be named after him for his life and the legacy that he left. He didn’t loot African nations, nor have any children that are p*dos. Honestly, if I could be half the person he was in this thing we call life, I will be a very happy woman by the time I reach my grave. Thanks for your service on this Earth. Rest easy♡

  • Time flies

    “It is impossible for me to remember how many days or weeks went by in this way. Time is round, and it rolls quickly.”

    Nikos Kazantzakis

    Life really DOES come at you fast. It has been nearly 6 months since I moved home from that wretched place I like to call university. What has life offered me since? Jury service, concerts, part-time work, networking events, birthday celebrations, 2 holidays out of the country, seeing my best friend after 5 years apart, a graduation, regularly completing 5K runs. Exciting things right? Yeah but my heart and mind don’t seem to think so. Even through ALLLLLL of those, I still find myself deeply embedded in pain which unfortunately, I will carry for the rest of my life.

    Every day is carefully blended and warped into the next. When you feel like shit all the time, you sort of lose track of time. Monday now turns into Thursday and you think “oh, I didn’t even notice because my brain is constantly telling me I have no place in this world and my heart feels like a thousand bricks get loaded onto it everyday, so what’s the difference between these 2 days and all the others in between?”.

    Halloween decorations don all the major UK supermarkets, with that one aisle peeping from your peripheral view, letting you know that Christmas soon come. I don’t actually like either holiday but that’s a conversation for another time I guess! Call me a grinch, yes I am, so suck your mum. None of these holidays or festivities change anything going on in my life and how displaced I feel. The birthday bullshit put a lot into perspective for me, and I realised more than ever that I have to be my OWN friend, as much as I don’t like myself as a person, but a suh it guh.

    Let’s actually get into how draining it is to apply for these dyam jobs. They make me feel STUPID as hell, and I KNOW I’m not the only one?! How are you asking me for ‘experience’ as a graduate? Weh mi a get it from? Mi rass! Or or or, when dem seh, ‘entry level’ on the application and they list PHD knowledge qualifications?! Ah wa di bloooodclaaat. Los jefes son pinches pendejos and dat mi a seh. Such components alone can actively contribute to low self-esteem. LinkedIn will tell you if you don’t believe me. Hundreds if not thousands of testimonies of rejections and sifting even for candidates who are more than qualified. Sad but it seems like we need to rise up as people and actually say well, you NEED to change your hiring standards because they make no sense, and not be afraid to challenge. Not saying you should beg for a job, because I believe in God’s timing and everything after comes in good measure, however people need to stop taking our generation fi eediat because we are far from that. We are leaders, pioneers, and fearless. Every single young person reading this, should already know what they are capable of and the force they bring. Ironic that I spend most of the time trashing myself and trashing men, but in the grand scheme of things don’t let me tell you that you are too trash for something. Who am I to tell you anything? I’m just here to rant and release trauma abi. I hate men a lot but they’re not completely useless, and I know that fi tru. Let’s move forward, I don’t want men thinking they will get compliments from me.

    The clocks even change tomorrow, did you all forget? That’s for those of us observing GMT + 0. Winter is really coming and is ignoring all our pleas to rewind back to summer lmao. I feel that this winter will be much better than my last but we all have to brace for the cold which is to come. Mind you though, global warming means that winter is not wintering like it use to, and some days are even too warm. No such thing as too warm here so I’ll take it. Still though, this is England, so expectations for staying warm long should be very low, and let’s not forget the amount of crises we’ve been in these past 2 years, so we better start blowing into our hands to stay warm mate. If you have ‘tink breath, you better just ask somebody else to do it so you don’t knock yourself out. Or better yet, brush unu mout’ or chew gum! Rahted.

  • La responsabilidad.


    “When it comes to privacy and accountability, people always demand the former for themselves and the latter for everyone else.”

    David Brin

    I’ve stabbed myself about 4 times in the past month. Not intentionally of course, but just exercising my great culinary skills yet poor knife technique. Ethnic people just cut things anyhow, and even in their hands, so yeah. Why is this even remotely relevant? Well, being stabbed by someone else I imagine to be excruciating, and it is 100% the person’s fault who inflicts the pain. But when we stab or hurt ourselves we get angry at the object that did us harm, when really it was down to human error. Like when you catch your foot on the corner of the sofa, or step on a plug, the reaction to those inanimate objects is crazy.

    You see, we don’t like to blame ourselves for anything. We shy away from accountability in a lot of instances. Whoever has been here from day dot has seen how I have blamed the world for the shit that has happened to me (it was their fault though lmao), but there comes a time where we just have to accept it and say, “yeah i did that shit”. I’ve had some shit sex in my time, but I would never in my life raise my hand to say somebody r*ped me because I did not enjoy it or I regret it. Some people would and have, and I fear anyone that can falsely accuse someone of such, will burn in the fiery depths of hell. Women though, we lack the genetic strand for accountability and I’m not even sure why. To be fair though, most things are men’s fault, and I personally will ramp up my misandry in 2024. #takeawaymensrights #menmustgo!

    One thing that I have started taking accountability for is my self-destruction. I mean in terms of sabotaging all my relationships with my negative perception of the world. I will sabotage the hell out of a relationship man. I will even tell the person we will not be friends/be together long because I’m going to disappear or they’re going to do some shit that makes me cut them off. I loved being toxic in my heydays. Now I realise that it is a long road to loneliness. The pain I have felt has not allowed me to form genuine connections or actually enjoy the ones I have. I look at everyone with bombastic side eyes, I tell people who clearly love me that they don’t love me, and that they are better off without me. They probably are because I walk around this earth like a jihadi with self-destructive tendencies. Why do I wear an invisible suicide vest? Not sure, but it doesn’t mean any of you guys should.

    A man that I happen to care about quite a bit (never worked out for a number of reasons) had a conversation with me about accountability maybe last week, or the week before. He started owning his dirt from however many years ago, and how he didn’t appreciate me. Slay king, you’re late to the party but well done for seeing me for who I am. He knows Negrita would have done anything for him. The stuff that Negrita already did for him, Negrita should have never done. That is the shred of accountability I will take because it’s true. The story ends the same, we both hurt each other, and I will always have love for him, and I’m deeply sorry to both myself and him for letting me feel for whatever transpired, but my Lord did I feel so inadequate. Mens level of accountability is also shocking, and they realise after losing a good woman that they should have come correct. That entire sex needs to come out of their mother’s wombs again and relive through a lens that isn’t filled with pum pum, masturbation, and Fifa/2k or CoD.

    One thing about accountability, is that once you have acknowledged it, you can make the necessary changes. Say sorry to that person. Say sorry to yourself for that self-deprecation. Or for staying with that man who smells like the inside of a weed farm sprayed with Dior Sauvage (definitely a negroid). The circumstances are neither here nor there, but remember your part and responsibility in everything, and stop gaslighting people like narcissists. Notice I said you and not me. I will not be following a single thing I just said lmao. Y’all be safe though!!

  • September.

    “I used to love September, but now it just rhymes with remember”.

    Dominic Riccitello

    Like a twat I deleted my blog post. I did not do that shit on purpose, but maybe my laptop just did not want me to publish certain things. Idk, I will never know, so second time lucky as I sit here struggling to remember what I wrote because it was one random day on the Jubilee Line where all my thoughts came out.

    I realise now it is October, and I drafted this post back in September. What did I even have to say? A bunch of crap as usual.

    September in some ways symbolises newness, a chance for growth, changes etc. For myself especially since it is my birth month and the God-given opportunity to be who I want to be, or reach for whatever stars are calling my name. Sometimes i yearn to be 16 again, just to go back and be young, but oh was that many years ago now. Instead of yearning for the past, yearn for the future.

    The pursuit for full time employment goes on, the fear of men and any type of romantic connection also continues to embed itself in my heart. But check this out now, I now fear every single person that has ever looked at me like a sister or a close girlfriend. Male or female. It’s so tempting to shout fuck the world, because realistically if i did get clipped in the head by a tractor, who would cry? I’d be laughing too that shit is hilarious. Guts and blood oozing out. Pieces of brain messing up my new Skims leggings. Great Hollywood scenes for sure.

    Your birthday is the most telling sign of friendship, and it has now helped me to cross off about 8 people, so cheers to 24 *clinks glass*. Heartless people will miss your birthday because they started their period that same day, or forgot that they double-booked because they don’t know how to use a fucking calendar? Or even better, just didn’t bother to announce at all that they weren’t coming, and leave you in radio silence. I must be the BIGGEST jankrow walking this planet to think that people would come out for MY birthday. My mistake. If you’re reading this and this is you, I really don’t care if you get offended. When I was crying in my bedroom at 3:00 wondering why people like you hate me, you were fast asleep, with not a care in the world about how I would have felt about you not showing up. The communication of people in their 20s is at an all time low, I really do feel like I’m conversing with people who were bottom set in school, and have no sense of awareness or basic social cues?

    September.

    I’m the type of person who usurps the one negative thing out of the thousands of positives that came out of September, including seeing one of my best friends after 5 years (she lives in America). Why? Because these English cunty ‘friends’ of mine don’t care about my feelings. When it’s Negrita it’s ok. But God forbid they cancel on somebody else in their life. I think a lot of you losers get turned on by hurting people and diminishing their feelings, like it’s such a fix for you to make people feel like shit, knowing there are no severe consequences. Because if I send you a rude text, you can just ignore me or block me, and who suffers? Negrita. A lot of these people have offences stacked up against them anyway, some even from 5 years ago, because I remember EVERYTHING. So saying goodbye couldn’t be more timely. Just for reference, only 2 people showed up, bearing in mind I invited about 11. It wasn’t a personal party, it was an event I wanted to go to, and bring people along, who bearing in mind all told me they were available. One of the girls even vomited earlier on that day, I saw the picture. The girl still came. I had a good time but from now on, even when I turn TWENTY FIVE, I’m spending my birthday ALONE. Nobody can convince me otherwise, and God forbid I fall in love before then!! I’m sorry to my actual friends, blame the shitty people who have been ruining my birthday year after year.

    Find better excuses or tell me you don’t want to come BEFORE the event is due to take place. Arseholes.

    Lesson for September: Fuck y’all.

    Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you!