ANOTHER POST

I haven’t felt like writing at all of late.

In fact, I haven’t felt like doing much of anything.

I’ve been socially ‘cancelled’ as it were. These days, where cancel culture exists (the modern equivalent of being ‘ruined’; as one might have been historically), I’ve been left feeling somewhat like an ostrich whose head is safest buried in the sand.

Historically, one might have wanted to wear a shawl when walking through the village or move town and ‘restart’ as it were, but with social media being my favourite thing and job; I can’t exactly transfer to a new Facebook or Instagram.

Of course, I’m not a celebrity, so this ‘cancellation’ is merely existent amongst my ‘friends’ or ex-friends…. but one thing’s for sure, when shit hits the fan and things go wrong in your life, or you’re just going through a tough time, you find out who your true friends are.

……….. let me just tell you, no matter how good of a person you are, if you upset people with more ego than morality; you’re in for a nice reminder of just how fickle people can be.

Anyway- I’ll be writing regardless.

I am only 23. I have repeatedly been told this.

“you’re only 23!!!”

“SO much life ahead of you”

“I had NO idea what I wanted to do at your age!!!”

And yet, some people my age have businesses, families, a mortgage (Christ), children!!!! Careers…. I refuse to personally accept ‘only 23’. I might live to say… 90? That’s over a quarter of my life…. done. Checked off. I’ve already LIVED.

......I’m determined to start doing more of the things I love.

My passions are ALL in the arts: I like hairdressing (the career I wanted as a child), singing, dancing, writing, reading, sports, beauty, art, media…. but to actively create a career out of one of these passions, one needs popularity or ironically, unpopularity. Either way, you need exposure and a following.

So despite being socially ruined right now (I feel a bit like a mouldy lemon that nobody wants to touch -even my closest friends on my birthday avoided publicly declaring their affections and kept it to personal messages when usually I receive a flood of public declarations of love and affection- Instagram stories, Facebook posts ect.) I am determined to do what I love. Right now, I’m writing… and I have a lot to say.

I’m not sure anybody gives a fuck, but I’ll be posting more!

I’m going to lift my pathetic ostrich head from the sand.

I think my best trait that I have acquired after this (very challenging) year is that I am no longer socially conscious. I know what it feels like to have my dirty laundry hung in the streets and for everyone I know and love to turn their cheek, or be appropriately appalled.

By nature, I am an EXTREMELY loving and caring human. I love fearlessly and openly and if I love you, trust me; you’ll know about it (it’s a Leo thing). I am bold and courageous… I don’t do ‘like’. Being loved by me is a lot like being loved by a Lion: ferocious, with the potential of death if mistreated (if you choose to follow this blog then you’ll later understand what I mean).

ANYWAY, back to my new best trait: no longer being socially conscious.

On here I will not hold my tongue or allow my language to be mitigated due to what people might think or say, because frankly, in the words of Dua Lipa: “IDGAF” (2017) ...anymore. 

This attitude of mine was tried and tested when I was just 13. I was sitting opposite a particularly bitchy girl in my year, who decided to say in front of the entire year group 

“Layla, why do you bother wearing a bra when you don’t have boobs?” 

*insert sound of a mixed snort/sneer that might come from a pig*. We were all making bracelets outside, and I remember feeling so very small in that moment. I had every pair of eyes nearby on my (admittedly, flat) chest, covered by a flimsy M&S bralette, which could be seen through my school polo. I added three more beads before I couldn’t take it anymore and stood up. I said in a bitchy voice my drama teacher would have been proud of “You’re totally right!! No clue.” took OFF my polo shirt, took OFF my M&S bralette, then slung it on the table next to my bracelet, re-dressed in my polo, and continued making my bracelet like nothing had happened. 

My teacher (who thankfully loved me – I wasn’t a teacher’s pet, but she had a particularly soft spot for me) looked directly at the bitchy girl and raised her eyebrows and inquired how her bracelet was coming along.

On the way back into the classroom bitchy girl’s best friend asked me where my bralette was from because she liked it.

Anyway, free-er, bralete-less Layla is back for a bit.

Hi.

I’ll be writing with this attitude. Not in a ‘to hell with everyone and everything’ way, but more of a ‘why do some societal concerns / restrictions / anxieties exist, when we’re all human?’ way.

Fuck the system.

Girls are so often made to feel as though their vulnerability is ‘embarrassing’ by other girls with more social power and frankly it’s a bit stale.

I’m far too caffeinated right now and need to go to the toilet.

Next post will be when I feel like writing again!

BYE X