I once-upon-a-time believed that absolutely everything is a choice, that nobody can make you do anything if you don’t really want to. But as I get older and the days blur into one-in-a-million, I can’t help but notice the norms that exist within society and all that keeps us united as citizens of the insanity that is the world we live in. Sometimes I think it is easier to love than to be loved, it is easier to give than to receive, and it’s all very well to offer advice and an opinion we don’t really believe. Or maybe that’s just me.
What is self-love? I have never craved an escape like this before. I’ve never wanted to disappear so much. Sometimes whilst trying to stay present, I remain a split-second behind and mistake it for being stagnant. I indulge in the luxury of written illustration of the present moment, which is often misinterpreted as daydreaming. This habit is more of a tendency than a habit, and somewhere in the last decade maybe I’ve lost track of what’s really real.
Dear sparkle, where are you? I think I lost you somewhere in six or seven months ago. Please come back. I miss you. Love, Afifa x
PS. What a mess !
