Since I last wrote here there has been a red banner printed on the bottom of my contact lenses that reads “breaking news” it has been scrolling across my world for weeks, confirming what we have all known- it’s broken.

Never before had I acknowledged, how frightened I would be to watch a country that I hate, fear, and love fall into disrepair. Brexit came like a thief in the night, with a not so conspicuous torch- light flashing through the windows inside the house of Europe.

We all saw it coming, but I thought, “nah- it will never happen”.

All of a sudden the critique of the white left just vanished- it was shocking to watch all of them scramble for grannies French, Irish or German passport and suddenly declare themselves immigrants.

Whilst they have been wondering how they might get their cut price wine, and what might happen to their funding, and if there jobs are safe, Muslims literally got blown up in Walsall, Polish folk were being attacked, and Black people were getting Banana’s posted through their doors and we all got told to “Go back home!” I just couldn’t.

Checking Twitter has become an amalgamation of fear inducing nonchalance – I am terrified at what I might see, but never truly shocked. The level of anxiety that is living in my body and the bodies of my community is something I have never seen. We are all shaking. There is something quite stifling about the space between needing to stay informed and finding it all too much.

The last month in UK politics is such a joke the word count can’t really do it justice. The images of Black people being shot, has been etched into my Twitter, and again I have had to remind myself that my life matters – when that it is so easily challenged by whiteness and a loaded gun. There are police officers swinging from trees- never did I think there would be another variety of strange fruit – but here it is.

There is no food in Venezuela, there is a coup in Turkey and at this rate; the liberals need never remove the French flag from their profile picture.

It is all a mess. So we go to meetings, and we protest and we go to weekly vigils. It’s deep. So what am I saying fam?

These are some serious times my brudda, and I guess I am writing this this month to tell you to take care, again- really take care of yourself. If you wake up in the morning and you can’t move- don’t. If you feel like things are getting too much, call a friend iah!

The sad news is that I fear that things will continue to get worse; we are in the belly of the beast right now. Sadly many more lives will be lost; there will be more protest, more tears and untold amounts of disbelief. You may start smoking again.

This is something that we have to be prepared for now, get good people around you, get good books around you, take breaks from the social media, sit in the sun and breath. Observe yourself, and your friends, recognise when you and your people are flagging, need to cry, need to sleep, need to leave. Be generous, in your giving and your taking. Know that it is ok, to not do it, but see if you know someone who can.

Try and enjoy the life you have, and put it to good use at the same time, strike a balance between using burning rage and burn out.

I am sat in the park now, with a friend who has fallen asleep in the sun as I lie on her bum and type to you lot. I am grateful for my ability to feel anything in a time like this when feeling numb is so frequent. At a time where I want my head to shut up, and the embrace of those that couldn’t be further away, it is such a treat to feel the sun burning on my legs, have a friend by my side, and the collective joy of London in summer- for a moment I feel peaceful.

All I can suggest is to stay connected, stay active, stay honest, and stay woke.