It is a reckless thing to leave the bed tired if it can be helped. If exhaustion can ruin a day, it can most certainly effect the altitude of an entire life. 

Here is a link to my YouTube channel. Funnily enough I thought of it— ran with the potential of it on a very drowsy day, a day I was acting/feeling funny because of tired. And its likely that I refined the idea during days melted by exhaustion. Certainly recorded my first video during the blitz of tired, and almost didn’t honour my solo dinner reservation (the subject of my first video) because of tired. In fact it’s a rare thing for me to be drained out by rest. I haven’t felt light one day this year, even when the days have been good. 

But today I managed to knock myself out for a few more hours then usual, and its now heading towards 1pm, and I haven’t left the bed, not even to use the bathroom. What a good drainage does— like the one I’ve afforded myself today, is it clarifies. I can see my own reflection, the truest vision of who I am and what I’ve done. Both things look good to rested eyes. Youtube takes balls. Editing videos utilises a relentlessness. Making videos requires the right head, heart and eyes. These are things I have, I can see that now— that I’m not mindlessly doing doing doing after all, and that there is a level of pride I deserve to have that can erase loathing. I’ve decided to submit to this without fear of losing my mind. I have no regrets. With no regret, there is only me— in my purest, most accurate form (meeting my potential and stepping into her). 

Nazanin Zaghari-Ratclife flew home today after six years in an Iranian jail, and Anoosheh Ashoori after five years. I’ve been following those stories, kind of, because the hopelessness stuck in my mind. But they’re home now. It’s one of those things where it’s impossible to put it at the back of the filling cabinet and treat it as some far removed thing happening to some far removed person. The lack of justice and the seemingly endless nature of the endurance can resonate with anybody. It did end though. 

And the deadly humiliation of the 15 year old black girl— only a child,  from over here (London) who had her sanitary pad forcibly removed, and was told to cough while bent over during an unjustified search at a school for weed. It is the kind of degradation that could end a life. And a cold apology from a far away place could easily be a nail in a coffin. There’s a numbness though that proceeds these kinds of stories that makes me sick. It could ruin her life— the exhaustion that comes when the shame settles. Or it could build it into something she didn’t have in mind. It is raining but rain is never a pointless happening.