David Larbi: “Being sad is not a moral failing”

David Larbi gives influencers a whole new name. He rose to fame with fifteen-second poetic musings and lyrical reflections that were so spot-on even the artists took notice. (@ SZA) He’s crafted a digital presence as intimate as it is impactful. He’s a diamond in the rough compared to his fellow content creators.

The creator’s first love was music – Sampha, to be more specific. He followed his love of lyricism to Royal Holloway, where he studied English and French. At university, he discovered for the first time what it felt like to be alone. He found his way back to himself by shifting focus. Larbi believes that “not every day is good, but there is something good in every day.” He turned those mindful moments into poems, a podcast, and even a TedTalk on patience.

For someone who produces content daily, he somehow manages to make every post meaningful. He’s turned the mundane into something monumental. Larbi has nearly one million followers tuning into his mindful moments. He’s carved out a space in the universe that is uniquely his own—first on TikTok and now on bookshelves. With Frequently Happy: 52 Mindful Moments, he takes his first step into the long-form.

We sat down in a quiet corner of London to discuss how he became a content creator, his love of lyricism, and his new book. For the ultimate reading experience, David recommends playing What Shouldn’t I Be? by Sampha.

SquareMile: How did this book deal find you - did you reach out to a publisher or did a publisher reach out to you?

David Larbi: Penguin reached out to me, and so did one other publisher. It was up to me who to choose who I wanted to work with. I've been a content creator for some time now, and I've had bad encounters with big name brands. Whoever I chose, I needed to feel I belonged there, no matter what size it is. I fit how I fit. What swung it in Penguin’s favour was talking to my editor, Amanda. She is incredible. Her vision for the book almost seemed to surpass my own. She always saw a bigger picture. I had two different book proposals that merged into what the book has become. One was memoir, creative nonfiction, and the other was poetry. She told me there was room for both. She said to me, in complete earnest, ‘I very much see this as your first book’. That meant a lot to me. To know there was that long-term investment in me. If I could write for the rest of my life, I’d be happy.

SM: A bidding war for book one? Not bad. What did your life look like before you became a full-time content creator?

DL: I’d left university. I was sick of studying. I did English and French. I didn’t want to do a masters of any kind. I come from a low-income background. I didn’t want to struggle for the rest of my life, but I also wanted to enjoy it. Marrying creativity and money is a tough one. I got a job in accounting, and then the very real possibility of studying for the accounting exams came up. Around that same time, I met my now fiance. She sat me down and said: ‘I think you should quit your job because you clearly don’t want to do this.’ All I had was this beautiful woman who said she would date me even if I was jobless. So I said absolutely.

SM: How did you two meet?

DL: We met at university. We knew of each other but weren’t friends or close by. We shared a mutual best friend. This best friend had a birthday party. I asked her on a date. That was four years ago.

SM: And she’s the reason you took the leap with this career?

DL: Yes. I could see actual, real-life income in accounting. But I could also see a 20+ year career in something I didn’t want to do. I knew I had something creative to offer the world. I didn’t mind if it went wrong. I hadn’t even tried yet. It didn’t make sense to fail preemptively.

SM: At that point, what art form were you quitting to pursue?

DL: It was music. The first thing I ever started sharing and creating was music. I have an average voice. I've met people whose voices make your hair stand up - I don’t have that kind of singing voice. I really like rap. I'm good at delivery. What I was good at was writing the lyrics. Now, I can admit that to myself, but back then, it would have hurt. Music was the art form that made me feel the most; that’s why I first went to creating. But it was always the writing I cared most about.

SM: Music was your entrance to art. Who were those artistic influences?

DL: Sampha is my favourite artist of all time. He has one of the voices that make your hair stand up, but his lyricism is utterly unique to him. I listen to his music and think that no one could have written this for him. When it comes to creativity, there’s nothing new under the sun, but that’s never a reason not to do something, especially if it hasn’t been done in your specific voice. Everyone is a human mosaic. Everyone is a combination of experiences and people met. No one has the same combination. Even twins don’t have the same combination. Whatever you have to say creatively will be unique to you, even if the form has been seen before.

SM: After this conversation with your partner, how long did it take you to quit your job?

DL: I quit the next day. I literally couldn’t continue the job. It was a great opportunity, a great opportunity for someone else. My manager at the time was named Sean. We used to exchange poetry in the office. He always told me, 'You’re in the wrong place.’ After I left that job, I didn’t speak to him for a year. He called me up a year later, at 11:00 on a Tuesday. He said, ‘I was hoping you would pick up because if you didn’t pick up, that would mean you're in the office and if you were in the office, I was going to tell you to leave.’ We reconnected, and we’re friends to this day. He’s so proud of this book.

SM: What did your life look like after you quit? What did you do next to fulfil the dream?

DL: Three weeks after I quit my accounting job, a friend from university called me who was working for a theatre and said, ‘I remember you used to dance at university. Would you come and audition for this show we’re casting?’ I auditioned and got the part. It was a show called Lockdown Town. It was in London Bridge. I danced and sang, and it was so much fun. It was supposed to happen from October to February, but then we had the second COVID lockdown. I lost that job, and that’s when I started posting on TikTok.

SM: What were the first posts you ever started sharing?

DL: I was posting everything. Anything that felt fun. The first videos that ever got traction or views were of me analysing lyrics. The first video was a cover of Frank Ocean’s ‘Close to You.’ I was trying to sing it, but the talkbox effect on TikTok was distorting the song and my voice. So instead, I just talked about my favorite lyric from the song. That video got 50 thousand views. People started replying and requesting other songs. Then I did Ivy by Frank Ocean, and that video got a million views.

I studied English and French. This is my bread and butter. I hear the lyric, and explain what it means to me. I did a SZA song, and she reposted it on his Instagram story. I put my phone down, picked it up later, and had around 30,000 new followers. I was like: Have I done something? Did something leak on me? What’s going on? I kept making those videos, and got more confident in sharing.

SM: Was there any fear you had to overcome before putting yourself out there, or were you down to clown?

I was down to clown. For me, there was nothing scarier than not trying. I remember journalling this and realising how much I did not care what other people thought. The SZA post was the first time I got negative comments. Why does he sing like that? Why does he sound like that? He sounds awful, all that kind of stuff. It was annoying, but I wasn’t upset. The people commenting had no profile pictures. Anyone who says that kind of stuff because you are trying - that comes from a nasty place. There’s nothing I can say back to that. If something isn’t for me online, I scroll. I don’t comment. That’s a normal reaction. Anyone who feels the need to say something negative, that person is suffering in a way that I can’t help. There’s no response I can give.

SM: Did that process open up any parts of yourself that you felt you needed to protect?

DL: I understood how this worked quite early. I placed way more value on kindness than negativity. I’d have ten bad comments and a hundred good ones. I don’t waste myself on the ones that aren’t nice. Or if something does bother me, I’d spend ten extra minutes journalling, or I’d go for a walk, or I’d put my phone down, or I wouldn’t open the app that day. I’ve had really healthy practices from the beginning. It was a mix of fortunate timing and being emotionally prepared.

SM: In your TedTalk, you speak about patience and waiting for your time to bloom. What do you think you needed to learn before you were ready to do this?

DL: I needed to understand myself better. There is a certain arrogance to this career and the humility to know you don’t know everything. I didn’t have that balance at all. I thought I was ready. I thought I just needed an opportunity to shine. Now, I know I’ll constantly be learning. I wouldn't have been ready for a book deal right out of university. It came at the right time. Now I feel confident I wrote a really good book and am connecting to people in a way that is authentic to me.

SM: You recently spoke with your mum about this book and said none of this would be possible without her - can you speak more on that?

DL: My parents are both incredibly hardworking people. My parents come from very humble backgrounds and worked tirelessly to provide for us, especially my mom. I’m the second of five children, with three brothers and a sister. At one point, my mom had four boys in under six years and then had my sister later. That task alone is unimaginable. My brothers are truly the best men I know. I love them deeply, not just as family but as people. In a time when society is rethinking masculinity, my brothers exemplify the kind of men I’m proud to be associated with. Patriarchy harms everyone, not just women but men too, and we’re working to change those dynamics. I want to be proud of the men in my life, whether they’re family or friends, and I can say that about my brothers without hesitation. I know this is because of what my mom instilled in us.

My interest and love of writing and reading comes from my mum and her passion for it. My belief that I am capable of doing creative things and sharing things vulnerably and that people will still love and respect me. I know that because my mum did that before anyone. Ever since I got the book deal, my mum has been messaging me something encouraging or reminding me how much it means to her. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without her.

Now that I’m an adult, at the age my mom was when she had children, I realise how much she sacrificed for us. Living my life for myself and my partner makes me appreciate the life she gave up to pour into us. My mom had an electrical engineering degree, writes beautifully, and could have pursued many other paths. It’s important that she knows any success I achieve is hers by proxy. I might be holding the pen, but the thoughts in my head came from her. This journey is hers as much as it is mine.

SM: What was the intention with this book? What were you hoping to capture in its pages?

DL: The feeling and thought behind the book is turning attention to the smallest pleasures in life in order to be more frequently happen. That is the whole idea. My short-form content, the thing people most enjoy is that I am happy doing them. I film those when I’m in a good mood. That’s how that process goes. You can’t just decide to be happy. Objectively, sometimes things aren’t good. I wanted to do something more long-form and permanent. I evaluate everything that life is, and I know that I have a choice in how I respond and reflect.

SM: Was there a time in your life when you felt closed off to those small moments?

DL: Yes. My third year of university. I was living in a studio apartment in Paris, studying abroad. I did not want to go when it came around. I’d made all my friends, and I knew when I came back, they’d be gone. When I did go, everything that could go wrong went wrong. The person who was supposed to rent their flat to me pulled out as soon as I got to Paris. I spent all my savings staying in Airbnbs before I could find a place. The relationship I was in broke down irrevocably. I had no creative outlets; this is when I realized I needed to do something creative or I genuinely might die.

I was so by myself, so isolated. It was so much effort even to Facetime people. I felt more lonely after putting the phone down, so I stopped contacting people. People assumed I was okay because I wasn’t reaching out. Nobody was in my immediate proximity to check on me because I hadn’t made any real new friends. I got really into the NBA that year. I’d go to work, I’d fall asleep, I’d wake up at 3 am to watch NBA, and then go back to bed. And repeat the process. When I got back to England, I didn’t feel like myself at all.

SM: Would you use the word depression to describe that time period?

DL: Yes, because I think you can have depression, and you can be depressed and it’s two different things. I have never had clinical depression. But I was depressed during that time period. For eighteen months, I felt like nothing I did mattered and didn’t care about anything. That is not who I am naturally. My circumstances put me in a place where I felt that.

One of the the first things about feeling depressed is that a part of you wants to feel like nothing will be better. When you're in the depression hole, the only thing worse than accepting it is hoping and waiting for it to be different. I was reluctant to let the positive in, something in me was resisting that. It’s so trite but genuinely the expression—every day may not be good, but there’s something good in every day—is true. There was not a single day in that period where the tiniest thing happened. Like my dinner was good, or someone smiled at me unexpectedly.

That’s when I realized that being sad is not a moral failing. It doesn’t make me a terrible person to be having a hard time. I used to conflat those two things. When I realized that, I started to feel better. I’m not a bad person cause I’m struggling. I’m just struggling. We all go through it. From there, I started to climb out of the pit.

SM: How did you do that - the climb out?

DL: I just started to care more about myself. I’ve always had, as everyone does, self-worth issues. Am I really worth everything I am trying to do right now? There’s so much about building life that is about delayed gratification. You have to put so much work in for a future reality that doesn’t exist. But I believe in myself enough to do it. You have to have self-esteem to do that in the worst place. I’m not treating myself like I’m worth anything right now but at the very least I’m worth eating three meals today, I’m worth a walk, I started on that scale. Then I looked at the calendar and saw that I had done something for myself every day. My brain responded to that, I realized I was capable.

SM: You built the momentum back incrementally.

DL: Exactly. Now, I have good days and bad things. Since being a full-time creator, I’ve just shared everything in real time. But there’s been lots going on that I am not comfortable sharing. It’s the first time I’ve kept a lot to myself. I'm still navigating that.

SM: How do you decide what to share and what not to share?

DL: My biggest rule is if I have not processed it, I am not sharing it. When you're releasing a song, a book, or something creative, you are literally letting go of it. It becomes everyone else’s more than it is yours now. For that to happen, you have to be comfortable with that thing being what it is. I do share a lot of vulnerable stuff, but only stuff I’ve processed. So if someone reacts or says something I don’t like, it won’t ruin my day.

SM: What do you think has resonated with so many people about what you’re creating?

DL: The stuff I make is overwhelmingly positive. That’s something I’ve always shied away from saying because it’s not intentional. I was looking at my thumbnails the other day, and every one was a picture of me smiling. I share when I am in a generally good mood. I connect most with people when I keep things really simple and be myself. The people that find me are people that truly connect with me. If people don’t like it, that’s absolutely fine. But the people it is for, it will always be for because it’s just me. Me is the only thing I can really be. I know that whatever I did, I wanted to do it sustainably. I don’t do things that take from me; I do things that give.

This book has been the most professionally fulfilling thing I’ve ever done in my life. As a content creator, you work with a lot of brands. Those tend to be very intense, quick turn-around, and feel impermanent. I’ve developed long-term relationships, but it’s always felt like I could be here this day and not the next day. Whereas with this book, it’s mine. And I’ve been able to take my time with it. It got all the time it needed to become what it needed to be. It’s all come from such a natural place. It feels like a condensed version of all the things I do.

SM: Can we get a sneak peek of something you haven’t shared publicly yet?

DL: I have a little poem I just came up with that I have no posted. It’s one of my favorites. It’s very short. It’s called Thumbs.

I wish that I was more like you,

Said the left hand to the right,

Not realising they both have strengths

Just thumbs on either side. 

SM: What do you hope people walk away with after reading this book?

DL: That they mean a lot to the world by virtue of their existence. Before anything, I hope they feel that, which gives them the confidence to act on it. You already mean something now, so do the things you want to. You won’t matter if you do things; you already matter, so do things. This book is a friend on the shelf that you can go to whenever you need it.

You can continue to follow David's journey here, and order his first book, Frequently Happy here.