a random picture stolen off the internet

This is not a rant, has no plan ever to be. As I write this and think at the same time, my mind is calm and bears no trace of even the slightest inhibited aggression, happy news that I wouldn’t snap in the middle of this and clubber someone to death.

Cheers to my newly gotten peace of mind.

So I love to listen to music as I work. Unlike my picky and bourgeois AF taste in books and social gatherings, my music soul jams to everything and anything depending on how blue the blue is.

Music soul, don’t fvcking flip it!

Currently we are stuck on Davido’s “Sweet in the Middle”. I’m not sure if it’s a phasal thing or some sort of fixation on the promised sweetness in the middle. This song encapsulates a prospect of happiness, like meat-pie that actually contains meat in the middle of two useless carb ends.

At the point of my life anything with a hint of happiness is a good vibe, so back to eclectic taste buds.

To the main story that deserves this crappy title. I write the way I talk, with plenty useless analogies and external references that do not make sense, so deal with it.

I’m on an LGBT page on IG, totally wack, but I lack the resolve to unfollow the page ’cause of some reasons I might finally share when I get older. RN I’d rather be young, vain, and unbothered in stupidity.

Among women who love women, there is this elitist preference for studs. A preference so classist in features that we, count me out, now unknowingly objectify the ideation of studs.

I for one has never been interested in such bland portrayal of sexuality. I love shades of whatever it is I love, and so be it.

But really, studs are becoming fetishized like dolls, totally reminds me of the creepy Average Nigerian man in Henrik Ibsen’s “A Doll’s House”. Don’t fvcking tell me he’s not Nigerian, I know what I mean.

Studs are now kept things. You feed them, clothe them, and fvck them. This is the real life I mean! Happiness left, right, and centre. The real sweet in the middle scenario, happiness caught in between an enactment of toxic masculinity and a not entirely new allure of preek that is not really preek.

I wanna be a kept thing too!

Women that love women that objectify women, y’all are fvcked up. Sue my punctuations

Queer. Angry feminist. Sports enthusiast. Fatherfucker.