1. sula collective x la liga zine collab
  2. dropped two days ago: june 2nd, 2016
  3. features my essay/free-write, “nobody understands the awkwardBLACKgirl”
  4. features a portrait of george w. bush made out of tiny assholes
  5. challenges the status-quo and cultural superiority/inferiority
  6. calling out the bullshit the way we see it
  7. i’m literally in love
  8. this issue is ill

jasmine simone

i am constantly

judging myself, and the feeling never goes away.

there’s tension in my chest – simultaneous reasoning: not being good enough and being too good. growing up in a world of lies, while striving for those exact fabrications. i drift into delirium when i think of my experience here. neurotic nostalgia for the crows in my head come morning time, and i’m tired. the crows keep coming and i want to say “leave me” but i don’t know how.

and i guess i am constantly in destructive rotation because of it.

-jasmine (and the crows)


I been thinking maybe I’m not as grown up as I’d like to believe. On the outside I am powdered with the skin of a brown baby. Inside I am withering like a mystic elder lady. I am sort of lost like a baby bird missing her left foot – stuck in perched mouth. 

I am trapped in my own illusion of what I thought I was to be. What I thought I was to become, is not even the half of me. Why is life so fucking crazy? You grow up thinking, “Hey, maybe I stand a chance. Maybe I actually have a shot as this life thing.” Only to find out you have to make that chance. You have to create the opportunity for it. And opportunity is a complex thing. It’s ephemeral like the puff of a cig. It’s ever-changing.

The possibility of allowing an opportunity to play a small part of your destiny is really a hard thing to maneuver through. Simply learning to flow with nature. Organic life education. I didn’t have any classes to learn that. No discussions. No pamphlets. Only experience. The experience of being in this dual-world of reverie and reality, empathy and power. 

I don’t know maybe it’s a Pisces thing, but I feel bamboozled, disappointed in the scheme of things; in the false perception of my purpose. I don’t know where to begin to take back my liberation, if I ever had it. I don’t know but maybe I do. 


– Just a journal entry of a perplexed perception. Peace, jasmine.