HeyJaredThe Mazaj
A Psycho-Philosophical Exploration of The Human Experience by Zahra Bilal
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 7
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- Sep 8, 2026
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- Jul 13, 2026
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There Are No Adults In The Room (opens the original)
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My most deeply held conviction as a child was that, always and everywhere, there is an adult in the room. Perhaps it is the natural result of having had diligent parents. My meals were taken care of, my school trips were signed for, GP appointments made, clothing, housing, heating, haircuts. Whenever I was unsure, whenever I was out of my depth, whenever I was scared, I was comforted by the knowledge that there was an adult in the room. A wise and reliable ‘expert’ on life I could defer to. I wa
Pathologise Resistance And You Make The Conquered Complicit In Their Own Conquest (opens the original)
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If you want to dominate a people without having to acknowledge your domination, call them sick rather than evil. To claim ‘evil’ requires a moral argument and moral arguments are easily lost if you are the dominating, subjugating, occupying force. But sickness and mental illness require only a diagnosis. This has been the preferred perceptual manoeuvre of colonial, imperial and authoritarian power structures for centuries and it long predates the existence of psychology itself as a profession. F
Give Me Half A Second Of Your Time (opens the original)
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Our experience of ‘now’ is approximately a half second behind the actual, physical ‘now’. Confused? I’ll put it more intuitively: our conscious experience of each moment is a replay from about a half second ago. We never experience ‘the now’ directly. Meaning, if a tennis ball hits you on the head, at the moment you experience the ball’s contact with your skin, it had actually already happened about half a second before. God knows precisely why but it is likely due to the sheer amount of process
Other Deaths (opens the original)
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Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedWhen I die I will fall to the ground, with soulless eyes and dead flesh ripe for the earth. How lucky am I? No open wounds will cut across the soft features of my face, no steel, no rubble, no bones that aren’t mine lodged in between my own. What misery is this? How cruel am I to hope for other deaths?<a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fe
I Need You, Don't Touch Me (opens the original)
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Love has embedded within it a cruel dialectic. In love, we seek both the security of attachment and the freedom of Eros, while each one threatens the conditions upon which the other depends. Eros is the allure of potential despite, and perhaps even because of, the risk. Attachment seeks continuity and safety in familiarity.At first, our beloved is experienced as an object of utter fascination. We look at them and imagine pure possibility. Every gesture seems rich with meaning and there is a sens
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