yep i am a self confessed minimalist.
[funny how they haven’t got some kind of retard mental illness name for that *insert eye ball roll* considering the amount of flack i’ve gotten over the years for being like this … until … apparently, it became one of those ‘new’ things that every cunt was embracing … taking up courses to learn … & paying a trillion dollars for someone else to rearrange their fucken homes …
ohhhh, & then its aight.]
i’m a minimalist.
do i require everyone else to be a minimalist?
but here’s the thing … which isn’t a new phenomenon in my life, but has made another round and re-presented itself forthwith, so i can re-deal with another layer of it ffs … … … like religion, i dont require you to be like me. like the way i dress, i prefer you do you & i do me. like the way i laugh, smile, eat – you do you, i do me.
so whilst im doing me, all minimalist & shit … the hardest part of that, is holding my own space!
believe it or not. someone sees a clear space (physically & emotionally) & feels to obliged to dump their shit there. whether they think i need the empty space filled up, or whether they think im poor, or whether they believe i could utilise the extra junk … they can not hear my NO or Fuck Off.
the whole idea of being a minimalist & embracing nil shit, is … get this … NOT having extra shit cluttering up my clear spaces.
so im guessing this round of fuckery has to do with a new layer of boundaries & not letting mine be crossed. another level of saying no & holding that no, even when the other cunt doesnt hear me. another level of owning my space & letting them own theirs.
it seems to be (like i said) a never ending cycle in my life.
cos i’m quite content to be left alone to play in the sandbox by myself. i’m also alright to share that sandbox. but you do you over there, & i’ll do me here. i’m not interested in collaborating with your bullshit or your glory.
i just want to be allowed to be. period.