Sometimes it feels like I’m just rushing into bad days.
Like I wake up from a nightmare only to find out that I still living in one.
My heart is racing all of the time
But I can’t stop. There’s no stop.

I just going and going and going.
I can’t breathe sometimes.
I tell you what you want to hear
So you wont be disappointed in me.

I need a break from you.
I need a break from the positivity you keep shoving down my throat.

I’m wondering which one of our friends will hate us next.
Which one will perceive your ambition as being full of yourself.
Which one break will remind us that it was all worth it.
Water proof mascara has become my new homie.

My anxiety makes me more judgmental.
It’s in cahoots with our blood pressure and having an affair with our depression.
They’re conspiring against me. Not you. Me.
I’m expecting a self-sabotaging coup any minute now.

I need a break from you.
I need a break from the positivity you keep shoving down my throat.

I can’t sleep.
You remind myself that I’m not prepared-
Unpreparedness gets us nowhere.
Except for 2am walks and sunken eyelids.
I mean, it’s your life, I’m just happy to be here.

I sorry if I let you down.
Your approval means so much to me.
There are times where I hate you.
But it’s only because I want to be you.

I hate being compared to people. Who doesn’t? Comparisons are tough because they’re subjective and only important to the people making the comparison. The “this person looks exactly like you” saying gets old real quick. I can’t tell you how many times someone has come up to me and told me that I look like someone that they know or like a stranger they just saw on the street. I can’t go a month without something like this happening to me and I get it- sometimes you’re just walking down the street and you see the back of someone’s head that looks exactly like your Instagram friend Sophie. You get so excited because 1. you’re about to run into someone you, in this day-and-age, only really get to see online, and 2. you get to have a brand new shared experience with a person you consider your friend.

Well, the closer you get to what-looks-like the back of Sophie’s head, the sooner you start to realize that you’ve made a huge mistake. The back of Sophie’s head is ridiculous and this doppelganger's head doesn’t even measure how RIDICULOUS the back of Sophie’s head is. (I mean “ridiculous” in the good way. The MADtv, circa 2007, way.

For me, this realization stops here. I see a person that looks like someone I know but didn’t end up being that person, so I let it go and move on with my day. I see people that remind me of friends, family, acquaintances, exes, ex-friends, enemies, all of the time. I may even text MY friend to tell them how much I miss them and that we should hang out soon. Simple. Sweet. And I don’t embarrass myself.

Unfortunately, some of yall’s cousins didn’t get the hint and will not let go of the fact that they saw someone that looked like me on the street. So I decided to write an entire blog post and video about why exactly I hate being compared to people, why I think people like to compare people to each other, and how to accept comparisons as a compliment.

Why I hate being compared to people

No two people on this planet look exactly the same. Literally, it’s a fact. Yea, I’m that person who uses ‘literally’ to give myself more credibility. But it’s true. Not even identical twins are identical. In fact, that's the beauty of receiving genes from both of your parents. Even though identical twins come from the same egg and receive the same set of genes, the amount of genetic variations that can be done with 23 chromosomes is insane. Making it impossible for a pair of identical twins, or even two random strangers for that matter, to look exactly alike. I mean look at Tia and her sister who married a Trump supporting republican. Maybe at one point, they looked alike but now… they look like 3rd cousins, twice removed.

I mean, when we look in there the mirror there’s something about our own features that resonate with us. For instance, my eyes and eyebrows will tell you everything that I’m feeling. When I look in the mirror and look at my eyes and my hair, I’m like “I hit the genetic jackpot with this one”. I see some much in my eyes sometimes, that I gotta take a step back and be like “girl, can you stop looking into my soul”? (Yes this is me talking to myself in the mirror. When one of your friends compares you to someone else, you start to realize how they see you. You begin to get an idea of which of your physical features resonates the most with your friends. For example, I am often sent compared to other women with a similar skin complexion, or nose, or lips…. So you mean to tell me you think I have Jay Z lips because that’s what you’re telling me by sending me this picture.

Let's talk about doppelgangers for a bit. Doppelganger which comes from the German folklore is described to be your spiritual double. They look exactly like you but there’s something ghostly about them, something different. To see one’s own doppelganger means that death is imminent because no two doppelgangers can live during the same lifetime AND be successful.… You mean to tell me I gotta fight my Karen doppelganger in order to be successful? (That is actually a great idea for a movie, Karen remember that) You mean to tell me I gotta hunger Games my way through other bitches that look like me. The fuck! Also, I don’t know about you, by this sound like some German voodoo shit and I’m really not with it.

Why People Compare

Have you ever felt like when you think about something long and hard enough, it somehow appears in your day to day life? Well, I have. I’m a huge believer in manifesting your reality. And NO, I don’t follow the Secret or Scientology, but when I want something bad enough and I put it out into the universe, most often than not, it’ll come back to me. I’m not saying you can manifest a million dollars in 20 seconds, but with enough willpower and thought, you really can manifest your friend, or what looks like your friend.

A couple of months ago I started dating a fuck boy, and after having a very unpleasant DTR (define the relationship) I was left angry and hurt. He dumped me guys, that’s what happened. After that interaction, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I would say to him the next time I saw him. I would rehearse the full ‘read’ in my head; “YOU AIN”T SHIT, ANYWAY!”. But even the fantasies of telling him off weren’t satisfying enough, I wanted to SEE the guilt wash over his face. Not just daydream about it. Well, a week after thinking so intently about this person, I end up running into him at his job. Now, before you say “Damn, Karen is so obsessed with this guy that she followed him to work”! Not true. I didn’t even know where he worked, I had an idea of what he did but never got into his actual job location. Running into him at his job was an example of how you can actually manifest someone into your life. And through this serendipitous interaction, I was able to get closure. You see how the universe be having my back.

Plus, telling someone that you think you saw someone that looks like them is a conversation starter. In my experience, people who make these comparisons are acquaintances or co-workers. They only know you from a specific context and probably have never seen you outside of work, school, church, etc. They’re probably looking to take the acquaintanceship into a friendship and establish a real bond. Putting yourself in the other person’s perspective will save you a lot of time wasted on wondering if they think you really look like a DUMBO troll based on who they think your doppelganger is.

How to Take a Compliment

At this point, we are starting to understand that the intention to compare is not to diminish your own individuality but to create a bond between people who care about each other. So why does it still annoy the crap out of us to be compared to other people? Well, it’s very simple really, we don’t like ourselves. When you have insecurities about your appearance, any misinterpreted compliment can leave you wanting to bury your face in the mud. We spend most of our time on social media comparing ourselves to other people who ‘seem’ like they’re living their best life and you’re not.

Here are some helpful tips I like to use when I feel like I’m comparing myself to other people.

1. Remind yourself that you are the only you there is and no one can take that away. Your individuality is what sets you apart and individuality can never be replicated.
2. Block out people who tell you to change your appearance. These people are toxic and should not be in your life. Do yourself a favor and get rid of them. You’ll be happier in the long run.
3. Log off of social media! Log off and live your actual real ass life. There are no likes, comments, or filters when you’re interacting with people in the real world.

Comparisons are tough, but they can be fun. You just have to remember that no matter who someone compares you to, you’re still you and no one can replicate that.

And remember, if you ever run into your doppelganger in real life, go straight for the throat.

I don’t know about you but I am tired of seeing the same tall white blonde on every single billboard, subway ad, magazine cover, commercial, television show, film screen, make up packaging… whatever, you name it and they’re there.

Recently I have been noticing the recognition of black & brown bodies through main stream media. I know what you’re thinking, and no they did not have to pull a Hallie Berry and take their clothes off. Instead these black & brown bodies are being used to sell products under the same umbrella white bodies are used to sell products, imagine that. Yes, for the most part people of color are still being objectified. Especially if they’re women and especially if they’re curvy. But I believe it’s important to celebrate these acts of apprehension in whatever shape or form that they come in. I also believe that it is important to remember that some of the recognition of black & brown bodies aren’t exactly ideal or perfect but they are a step closer towards diversity in mainstream media.

This week I would love to call attention to SNL’s very own Leslie Jones! She has been on fire this year and it has been such a pleasure to watch her being represented as the strong black woman that she is. If you’ve had the chance to see her on SNL then you may have noticed that she is loud and proud and she isn’t afraid to speak her mind. I personally love to see her on Weekend Update where she shamelessly objectifies Weekend Update reporter, Collin Jost. I think we can all agree that white men don’t get objectified enough.

Most importantly, Leslie Jones is on the cover of July’s Elle! Just look at how she slays! I wish I could be as fearless as she is. Can I just add that she is 48 years old! She’s like a black amazonian George Clooney who is literally old enough to be my mom and beat my ass.

Also, I’m going to take this time to explain how black doesn’t crack. First of all, melanin. Obvs. To all the white people who don’t have enough melanin, sorry bout it. Secondly, people with darker skin can literally see their skin crack, which is why we moisturize with this vodoo potion we call body cream. White people, if you use body cream then maybe you’ll look at young as Leslie Jones.

Haha just kidding, you’ll never look as young as Leslie Jones.

When I found out that Moira died last year, I had just finished writing the third episode to a webseries I was working on. After saving my draft and exiting out of Celtx, I picked up my phone to do my morning check-in with the people of the internet who exercise their right to free-speech via social media. One scroll through Instagram should be enough, I thought. Besides it’s better than going down the Facebook rabbit hole.

NicoleAshley posts a lot of pictures on instagram. NicoleAshley and I went to the High School of Fashion Industries together. She was Co-Captin of the cheer team that I was on for one year, which I didn’t actually complete because of my pride. The last time I saw NicoleAshley was when I went on a family vacation to Disney World in Florida, Spring, 2013. She was a cast member there, which she loved and I was just excited to see a familiar face at the happiest place on earth, which in this case was in Florida.

But on this day, NicoleAshley did not post about the happiest place on earth. She didn’t post a #TBT or #FBF or #TBH. On this day NicoleAshley posted a picture of our mutual friend Moria, who was also on our cheer team. In the collage of pictures that made up NicoleAshley’s instagram post, Moira has on her Fashion Cheer uniform, she smiles as she’s surrounded by all of us, all of us. Well, everyone except me. NicoleAshley’s captions reads;

“It’s crazy how in the blink of an eye everything can change, Rest in peace baby girl we love you…”

Crying sad face emoji, followed by pink hearts emoji, finished off with a different sad face emoji. This picture NicoleAshley posted of our mutual friend Moria has 59 likes. I commented

“I can’t believe this!!”

And I couldn’t believe it. I could believe that this picture only had 59 likes when NicoleAshley has a wooping 2228 followers. I couldn’t believe that in this collage of pictures, I wasn’t anywhere to be found. I mean, I was on he team for almost a year, c’mon. I couldn’t believe that I had just finished writing the third episode to my webseries. A series I would never come to finish. I couldn’t believe that I haven’t seen any of these girls since I graduated in 2010. And I couldn’t believe that Moria was dead… How? I couldn’t help but scream because I was so angry and hurt. I couldn’t help but cry because I felt left out, and then guilty for feeling left out. Now I missed her so much more than I ever did before. Now I loved her so much more than I ever did before. The realization that I would never see her again and that her family, who lived 5 minutes from the house I grew up in, would never be able to hold her again, was slowly sinking in.

Moira’s Facebook page was where all 1,625 of her friends went to grieve. There were posts with long heartfelt passages, posts of pictures I had never seen before, and video posts of her performing in Salsa competitions. She was such an amazing dancer, and small enough that she could be picked up and tossed around by anyone. She was my flyer, I was her backspot. We were a team.

I scrolled through her Facebook page to find the article that announced her death. A car wreck in Argentina left a son and a father injured. The daughter of the son… the granddaughter of the father… el joven… the young one, was pronounced dead at the hospital. The young one was Moira. The young one invited me over to her house one summer to swim in her pool. I didn’t want to get in because I was still on my period, but she gave me a tampond and she lent me her bathing suit. The young one shared the empanadas her mom made, for the bus ride up to cheer camp, with me. The young one was younger than I am and never got to experience 21 years of age in New York City. The young one was my friend.

When I find myself missing her, I go to her Facebook page where I know I am guaranteed to feel all of the feels. I can see all of our mutual friends and all of our conversations and all of the cheer videos we filmed together. In that sense, I’m glad we can memorialize our loved ones on Facebook. It helps provide closure and allows the people in this community to reconnect through their mutual lose. But it also frustrates me. I never got to visit her grave or say goodbye to her body, IRL. I never got to see her post-mortem makeup face which never looks as good as the real thing. The living thing. The dead never look as good as the living.

I wrote this in light of the passing of UCB performer, Timmy Wood. We’re approaching the anniversary of Moira’s death, and his death reminds me of her’s. Both talented. Both unexpected. Both tragic. But it warms my heart to see how many people’s lives they’ve changed just by being themselves. Its been almost a year and I still cry when I think about her -- I’ve literally had to stop writing and give myself a week long break because I couldn’t even see through all of the tears -- so I can’t say that it gets better. It just gets easier.

These cyber memories do not take president over the real life interactions I’ve had with Moira. I want more than just being able to visit her Facebook grave and I’m not sure I ever will receive that… But I have to learn to be ok with that, right? IDK.