Abrupt

Colors fade and everything dims…welcome to the black and white sitcom that is not as funny as Charlie Chaplin but almost as dark as the genocides.welcome back my dear..to the darkness you thought was gone…

My brain sings a different story.a story of possibilities and opportunities but very quickly that changes because depression strikes like a nimbus cloud, it quickly and completely engulfs everything and dominates the waves and ripples…there was a happy tingle just moments ago and the sun was shinning and I was laughing with my sister about how a duck waddles and how we would steal a sip of dad’s liquor once we’re back home ..

Stupid of me to think I’d enjoy this holiday…the sun is still up I can see it but it’s not shinning anymore it’s bland and dim to me and it refuses to warm my hands…a little secret,my hands get very cold when the depression kicks in,no matter how much I place them in direct view of the sun.

I notice my sister waving at the side and I realize I drifted into my own reverie. Selfish of me I know,but it sort of takes you over until nothing else seems relevant…with my short attention span I should’ve hoped I wouldn’t have to stay with depression but it turns out that’s where I shine..I move towards the beach and I walk slowly but purposefully,it seems like it’s so far away.

I breathe in the salty air,isn’t it peculiar how you can feel if the air is different??salty,warm hot air??I hated the air here,I did love the breeze,it brought about cold air with it and my lungs felt sated.everything seemed to be getting lighter in Mass….I was floating,and through my Misty eyes I thought I saw my sister waving from the shores again.

What’s with her and waving?is it a new trend for this x generation kids? I didn’t quite know and I didn’t want to know…these trends are too many can’t it all just stop!we have to cram them all up albeit we get scammed and framed. We have to keep up with the trends ..or else we lose our jobs . It’s all so suffocating …all of it and maybe I was born in the wrong era …maybe I’d have been better off as Leonardo da Vinci’s apprentice..maybe I’d have been a merchants wife in Venice and not have to fight a battle of sexuality everyday….

Am I weak??for wanting progress to halt so that us fat people can catch up??fat is figurative.

I am broke out of my reverie by the salty air again.where did the breeze go?this salty air feels so liquid now…and why do I feel the salty taste in my mouth ??

Why can’t my feet touch the ground??

Panic sets in and I realize I’m having a panic attack,I’m floating ,I’m choking in my own fears and no one can save me from this and I decide to drown in them.ive made my peace with my demons.i intend to breathe in harmony with them.

In that moment I was harshly jerked awake by strong arms that seemed like they were shaking….I opened my eyes and I was in the water…the sun was gleaming from the reflective rays but I was drowning.how did I get here? The hands that held me jerked me up from beneath the surface of the water.it was the diver I saw on the beach.he looked at me as though I was crazy…as he carried me to shore I realized I’d messed up…it was getting so bad I was subconsciously suicidal without realizing it…and before I lost consciousness I wondered….was there coming back from this??

Losing time…

In the bathroom scared …cutting and crying…the pains too much it needs an outlet..heart is constricting,can’t even tell if it’s a heart condition or heartbreak…the breakfast show is on in the next room.. phone’s blowing up from the texts too..

The online facade is still on fools.”are you okay?” ” Quite well actually,” is the lie now…after the phone down the breakdowns even worse..call for help? Not this time though? Could watch myself dying and never call out

The drops of water on the skin feel like pain stabs.. yesterday’s cuts are beginning to dry up,maybe it’s a good Christmas trade the birth of Christ for a death of one of ours..never been a fan anyway,..looking up,the hot droplets burn the eyes.. I hate the reflex,that has them blinking instead of feeling the burn,maybe some part actually wants to live ..

Standing up and letting the water wash over the entire body,looking down the canvas was still big enough for more cuts..guess being big bodied was a good plus for art,not her hands they were a little out of sorts,her belly hurt,was it the cuts or the chronic illness though…she hated not being able to tell..this is what caused it all anyway…wait it is ..which means she shouldn’t care now…and the darkest parts of her brain have the blade near her navel again….”

we’re gonna die this time,” she says to her brain but no one’s listening to her even if she cries out loud..the cuts continue and they don’t even hurt…until the blade comes close to the surgery cuts…”it could be a death sentence,” she says out loud …no one outside can hear her,she’s always talking to herself on the bathroom come rain or high water …

“Death sentence you say,”

the sadistic part of her brain is thrilled….”you know we won’t heal,”it says to her with a grin..the grin is on her face but she doesn’t recognize it…she’s been losing time….not the kind where you space out though there was that too….she’s been losing hours and finding more cuts even when she can’t remember them…it’s getting worse in her head it’s getting more scary ….the blood mixes with the water to a chilling red color…the color of gowns and strawberries…she liked that colour ….she also didn’t…..she wasn’t fully herself and every voice in her head had a different opinion..the opinions were blurred by a rush of dizziness that found her plunging to the floor….she sat inside a green basin that threatened to break if she so much as made another move.

..her sides hurt…the cuts were all squelched by the position she was sitting in..the drowsiness was taking over…she couldn’t focus…couldn’t concentrate…the blade was in her mouth….her tongue felt sore as well….her inner cheeks looked like walls of the olden days where people first learned to write…

She spit it out ..now her lip was bleeding but her eyes still couldn’t focus…the metallic tang on her tongue warned her …warned her it was almost time…she was blacking out….she was unsure whether she was about to lose more time or her anemia was gonna drive her to her grave…

.

She hoped it was the latter….but before she was out ,she stood and poured the water all over to cover everything,not once letting the tiles walls touch her bloodied body ….she took her towel and slowly but surely rushed to her room and into her blankets…the blade was piercing her palms…she opened her palm and placed it on the window sill ..she stared at the old messages of forever…and the old photos of when there was hope …her heart was broken..maybe the razors would tear up the rest of it,she hoped to herself as her eyes glazed over with tears again

She stared blankly at the wall and waited…waited to lose time or pass out,whichever would take her out of this misery first ..

Authors note….I am not in the best of places…then again when am I … So bear with the last minute edits ..

Please and thank you ♥️♥️

Decoratively beautiful

“You’re decoratively beautiful my dear,”mother said as I rose from the chair to go and help her prepare dinner for the family,”the kind of beautiful that was once what all the men and women alike wanted …the kind of beautiful they could all afford,the mere basics….the one they’d keep and give meagre attention at their worth,the kind of beautiful that broke through all the pressure of perfection and became it’s true broken self .the kind of beauty that required melted gold to keep it together ..the kind of beauty that was no longer put up for all to use but was now for all to admire and aspire to reach …that’s you my love…no longer the one they used and took for granted but one they admire on shelves and long to be able to afford ..

.because with the gold lacings that stitched you back to life came a surreal beauty only understood by the likes of Dali in his paintings and the words of Socrates in his wisdom….even Twain would concur because on this we don’t differ .

You’re decoratively beautiful my love… it’s what makes you a masterpiece

And as I followed my mother into the kitchen…I thought about everything she had said.. .I looked up at the dishes section in the cupboard and I saw it..the small line of plates at the topmost shelf,arranged like a display of Golden rainbows, China she loved but had broken and they were put back together with strings of gold…they were,suffice to say, decoratively beautiful…

Feliz navicrap!!!!oops my bad ..

Jesus, Kenya and I,share something important in common??a birthday month….tis the season…yes it is..though both Kenya and Jesus precede me by several decades. I turn twenty one years old on the twelfth of this month…technically the 13th but much as I love being ominous,I got used to the twelfth

My country turns 55 tomorrow on the twelfth so technically 34 years older than me if my math is correct which I really really hope it is since my mind is hazy at the moment…

Jesus on the other hand..precedes us both by a couple millennia..

Back to the month of festivities and show offs and intense pressure…I abhor this month with every vile of bile in my gallbladder

My intention once I’m good and grown(since technically let’s be honest,I’m still living rent-free in my dad’s house)is to not celebrate Christmas,or jamhuri day or heaven forbid…my birthday..

You could argue that it’s because I’m not entirely a Christian…but then what of my birthday?

It’s the month…it’s the season…it’s the festivities and the carrousels and jingle bells and whistles all the way….the lights adorned by businesses that look crooked like shrubs instead of Christmas trees,the smiles that look faked and the children dumped in the countryside’s for the Aunties and grandma’s to take care of …

It’s the arraignment of individuals in front of the jury that is their extended family…I’ve been there before…on both sides…I’ve been the Golden child that was to be a doctor or pilot…I’ve been the absent child that wasn’t there for interrogations I was out chasing a butterfly or lost in the pages of a James Patterson thriller or out with Sherlock on adventure and sleuthing,I’ve been the angry teenager that was always on the wrong and had been expelled….the shame of the family .the stain…I’ve been redeemed to being back to “the engineer in the family” as the say it with pride ..

The roller coaster doesn’t stop there..cousins compete with who met which celebrities and who got a new tattoo and who is dating who….nowadays it’s who had a baby,who had an abortion,who moved in with a loved one and who got fired or promoted….

To be honest,it’s exhausting don’t you think??if you do it the Kenyan way you suffer through all that and the only mention of Jesus is at the dinner table before you eat…and it’s to pray to him not wish the two millennia old guy a happy birthday…if you do it the western way,then gifts for everyone and that puts the pressure of the perfect gift,perfect price for their status ,and new thank you notes to send to those who will gift you a bunch of stuff you’ll never use because let’s be honest,what am I to do with a breast pump with a polycystic ovarian condition and no pregnancy ….but hey thanks for that Aunt Laura .it’s not awkward at all

And ladies and gentlemen..I could go on and on about how much I dislike this month..or I could spare you the rant and go write a list of my achievements this year(apparently I might be the one making a speech on how God can change you from an angry teen to an engineer) the horror!!!!

Authors note:there’s mistakes in this and also it was a random December rant

Please like,share and…uhm..what else do people do???yeah do that..but with a smile..come on,it’s Christmas !!!!

On my tombstone

On my tombstone will you smile? Or would you be mad at me for dying? On my tombstone would you drink, knowing I hated the smell of liquor? On my tombstone would you go so far as to pour me a sip to wet my throat like the ancestors ? On my tombstone will you pour mango juice,the brand I like and pour some chocolate sprinkles,to appease me in the beyond?On my tombstone will your eyes be watery and wet crying that I’m gone or happy about the lame jokes I had and the crazy dances I did in public..??? On my tombstone will you remember the insults I made in jest and the times I touched you ,the way I smiled and the way I loved watching the moon??….on my tombstone will you remember that I loved the rising sun,that I adored the setting sun ,and that I swam on rivers with the tilapia as my muse?On my tombstone will you remember that I had a good side…the one with the only dimple….and that my eyes would glow with Glee anytime we set out to a mischevious plan?On my tombstone will you behave ,in the most rowdy and insane way,just like I’d wanted through life.,will you tell fake tales of how good I was and how loving and caring i was?or will you flat out tell it like it was…the truth of how unhinged I was …how my insanity drove me to the edge..how I snored in my sleep ,how I screamt in my wake or how I danced on the streets….

Whisper 2

He went faster inside with her,he was sweating profusely and she didn’t seem tired at all.as she moved he moved even deeper, she was flexible and she made twists and turns and his hip was starting to hurt, he was getting too old for this and he wondered how this would last….he refused to back down and let her disappear again, this was the last chance and he could already feel it as she went deeper into the darkness…and something changed…she was slowing down. Finally, he thought, she was getting tired and this made him smirk but she noticed he was gaining on her and she stopped for a split second and turned and faced him dead in the eye and that made him frozen..he couldnt move from the intensity of her gaze and he knew he was smitten and he hated being so easily subdued by those mesmerizing eyes that he could get lost in.

she noticed his severe state of paralysis and she smirked…it was her turn now and she knew it but she didnt seem to want much, she simply said, “Try and keep up old man!” and she resumed running…
She loved the chase, he realized all too suddenly…better yet, she enjoyed it.
Was it a test? He wasnt sure and he really wanted to find out so he willed himself to move and he continued chasing after her and he was frustrated to know that she had a head start which meant she was a considerable distance away. he would catch her he hoped and as he went up the steep staircase at the left of that alley he saw her and he moved even closer as his speed increased by just a bit and he knew he couldn’t go much farther and he stopped and held his knees in defeat.

She turned and saw him looking at her and something shifted in her eyes…was it pity? did she pity him? he wondered and he hoped to the heavens she did not
“hey old man…cant keep up can you?”she said with the hint of a smile on her lips and damn if she didn’t look like a goddess smiling like that and he watched her move closer to him and his breathing became laboured and difficult…he really hoped she wouldn’t notice how nervous he was becoming…
“nervous aren’t we?” she asked and he was a bit startled at how she would know that but she indicated his sweating hands and he gave a nervous laugh and he tried to wipe it off on his coat as he tried to stand up straight
she moved up to him and he noticed that she smelled of warm chocolate and mint, quite the opposite of what anyone would expect from such a rough, wild looking girl and her breathe smelled of blueberries and he couldn’t help but get caught up in her entire scent and surrounding and he subtly smelled her in and his nostrils didn’t wanna exhale ever again but unfortunately the human body didn’t work like that and he eventually exhaled loudly and she chuckled…she chuckled like royalty, he thought to himself as she moved even closer and his mind kept doing flipflops as he wondered what to do at the woman who was very rapidly approaching his personal space and why the hell was he very very okay with that and her lips …..God those lips looked tantalizingly delicious and he wanted to kiss them and he was broken out of his reverie when she suddenly broke the silence.what she said next explained hell of a lot of what happened at the library he thought to himself as his mind went blank from the sudden impact of her lips on his cheek near his ear…

“My name is Whisper and i’ve heard youve been looking for me ….”

Old letters

im cleaning up my room, trying to clean up my past
tokens, mementos, reminders of the past.

..
most times i wonder why i hold on to all this…
am i that desperate for a time long gone.?
when you were innocent and i was all you needed?
was that always a front that you put up to win me over?
was it that i was so stupid that i saw what i wanted?
everyone else seemed to see something else
i saw innocence and a raw emotion that was rare in any other human i ever saw…
and maybe you knew exactly what i wanted and you played it to your advantage
now as i look back i wonder, could i ever love someone the way i did you?its crazy how your smile illuminated the room…but then it wasnt just for me was it.?
crazy how your laughter reverberate throughout corridors ,
but i wasn’t just for me was it…
as i clear out my room today, several years after what we were,
i wonder if i should throw out the parts of the old you that i still have with me
the parts of you that dont exist anymore..
the part of you that maybe was an illusion that i chose to believe..
maybe I’m selfish and i didnt want you smiling at them or letting them into our space…
but then I’ve always been possesive sue me for being honest since the very start
i look at the letters and the smiley facesthat remind me of a simpler time
i look at the good mornings and the how are you doings of a much simpler time
you burned your memories of me…that didnt hurt as much because i didnt change.. youd still have me either way
but what if i burn the pieces of you that are left for me to love?
does that mean youll run to someonee else?
does that mean that youll cry when someonee else is sick?
does that mean youll be scared if someone else is mad and is hitting walls with rage?
what would it mean if i burn the traces of my heart that are still alive?
im unsure of what to do…because your smile still illuminates the darkness of my dreams,
But the you now isnt the you before,
many might call it growth but millenials have a tendency of referring to retrogression as growth….and it saddens me that youre not who i met…because that girl took my breathe away and made me recheck even my language…the kind of girl that made you want to behave…and not like a hound dog but like a gentleman

Whisper..

The strokes were fast, precise, long and deep. He did not want to see it like that…The fast strokes formed a rythm, they were angry, they were silent but screaming, like a closed Pandora’s box waiting to be opened. He was not sure if he should say anything to her and also if he did decide to say anything what would he say that wouldn’t make it an already awkward situation…suffice to say it was an uncomfortable and confusing position he was currently in.
He let it go on,it was messy yet precise,she never faltered from the speed at which she took the strokes…the strokes got deeper and more agitated but with the same rythm and her breathing quickened and he kept inching forward and she seemed to zone out into her own world.

She was close he could see that. But he didn’t want to interfere with how she moved , how anxious her body seemed to reach its closure, to achieve the satisfaction that she seemed to crave so deeply,the strokes of the brush moved up and down in furious symphony and her chest heaved…he could sense her heartbeat from the way that vein on her forehead pumped furiously against her caramel temple. Her hands seemed so sure and so firm as she moved up and down and the intensity of her gaze wasnt like any he’d ever seen before, she looked both scared and at the same time still looked so damn heavenly while she painted and moved the brushes in fluid grace and poise.
He watched until she was finally done. she had bled art onto the canvas …she had poured her soul and he could hear the palpable emotion on it and he could see the pain and feel the voices….so when the critics and the art fanatics said art speaks to you this was what they meant…he was drawn to the painting…..until he remembered the girl…and he looked back at her as she packed up and to leave

and he asked for her name she looked up at him,… and whispered “whisper” and he looked around wondering why exactly they had to whisper and by the time he looked back at where she stood, she was gone and never had he felt a weight on his shoulders like he did that day….and he moved away and asked the librarian,”what’s that girl’s name?the one who comes here to paint?” and she replied in a low tone…”whisper”he wondered again, was his voice so loud?? and she smiled at him like she knew something he didnt know and he looked back at the painting, wondering why he was drawn to it more than anything he’d seen in his art filled existence…and the girl….she left herself in the painting…he could see her hair he could breathe in her scent and he could hear her agitated movements as she tried too capture everything in her mind onto the canvas….he heard everything and felt everything…..he had to find her.

A cry for help…

And when everyone else seemed to leave the voices in her head did not…the demons in her mind stayed and through it all they never left and we’re never scared of how messed up her health or her life or her self could be..everyone watched that girl who was loud and vulgar and needed no one…but she did need someone…anyone…she talked to the stranger who swept the floors and he looked at her as though she was mad ..she talked to the stranger in the bus on her way home and he said she was in a cult…she talked to the doctor at the hospital and all he did was scribble down a couple of things and be an enigma…she talked even when she knew her mouth was tired and her chest was heavy…she reached out to the very friends she thought she had….she did have them and they did love her….but when you’ve not had the same thing happen to you, you’d look at another with shock in your eyes and some with the kind of judgement that called her selfish from the spark in their eyes..

..she was hurting…she knew others were hurting from what she was doing…but just like a junkie to cocaine ,it wasn’t enough to make her stop. ..then they kept leaving…she was tough to handle and impossible to help…

But no one ever asked why she didn’t seem to want help…why she seemed okay with cutting .. it’s because she’d make you tired of listening to her woes every time..and also you wouldn’t stay long enough ….

The voices in her head. ..the demons that danced around and sipped chocolate milk in a bonfire inside her mind we’re the only ones that stayed long enough..

And when they needed to breath through the slits on her palms and thighs,she let them because it was a small price to pay for the only part in her life that accepted her.

She never lost hope in humanity so she couldn’t cut deep enough to leave this Earth just in case anyone chose to stay …but Everytime she tried to call for help the walls would realign themselves and go higher…she could see people outside..they talked and tried but couldn’t reach her…the demons had won again and as the blood flowed from her wrists..she felt the whisper of those she dreaded ..”thank you for letting us breath love..” and she saw the pain in the eyes of those that loved her outside the walls wondering why he didn’t care enough about others to keep doing that to herself….

She was one girl..fighting two worlds…she was drowning and her mouth was heavy her chest was made of Lead ..she couldn’t speak,couldn’t move …so she waited as her breath was being taken away by the chains of her mind that pulled her down to the bottom of the ocean….it would end soon..(vallar morghulis)

(I wrote this in the worst state of mind so bear with the errors please….drop a comment and share)❤️

Would you live for me??

Would you die for me?

age old question to test love, allegiance and loyalty to another….
But her, every chance she got she tried to die and this time was no different when he found her yet again near the river with her hands bleeding but her eyes were where the saddening pain was
he held her hands and looked at the bruises, the variety of her wounds, the purple ones that had began healing…the reddish ones that seemed recent but not today and the bleeding ones that oozed dark red blood from her delicate wrists.
he looked up at her teary eyes and he knew…everything that she felt because when he was with her, the empathetic connection they had was palpable, he could feel the anguish in her soul and the confusion and despair in her mind.he looked again at the wounds on her arms and he saw the message, the pattern
“i dont deserve to live
i dont deserve happiness
i cut because its too congested inside my brain and my body
and also because im hoping one day ill run out of blood to spill and ill fall dead..”
he saw the message and refused to read it as such and he said to her
“this world isn’t fully equiped to deal with a heart like yours
this world doesnt deserve a heart like yours
the oxygen that flows through and around you is like a love filled aroma that sets peace to anyone in close proximity ”
her tears flowed freely at his words and he held her close. when her crying subsided, he took her closer to the riverbank and washed off the blood from her arms then he asked her
“please live…for me”
she had a hint of a smile and he took that as positive encouragement to proceed
“would you live for me, mi amor?”

her eyes shimmered with fresh tears , but not the sad kind
and he knew then that she would reconsider…
she was a person who so badly wanted to die and for her to consider life …it was all he could ask for…
it was enough for him

THE BEGINNING

She was beautiful…a dangerous aphrodisiac that threatened to overwhelm me anytime I breathed her in or saw text pop up on my phone with her name on it, and it terrified me. Breathtakingly beautiful starting from her oh so demure lips and her smile that could captivate an entire audience. She was radiant…that shine in her face that seemed to project to everything around her. She was a goddess. My Persephone my Aphrodite and I knew then that I was a goner and I didn’t mind falling into the abyss of her eyes…her eyes. They were the epitome of innocence. They depicted everything she had tried so much to hide before, they were raw, and with passion for life and passion for everything it had to offer. I gazed unashamedly at her. It was her. She was my weakness and she had been since the first day I laid my eyes on her. I moved to stand as she approached….today was the day…I would tell her how I felt…I was terrified of everything at this point, how would she react? Would she be angry? Would she hate me? Would our friendship cease to exist? The turmoil in my brain got the better of me and I was momentarily distracted. She’d never seen me falter or fail. Not because I didn’t fail or I wasn’t scared but because I avoided at all costs for her to see me in such a situation and in the several years of knowing her, she simply adored me as her idol and much as I relished that I simply had to tell her how I felt or else it would eat me up inside until my demise.
She would be your demise, a voice in my head reminded me and I smiled inwardly. I felt alive in her presence and as I looked up now I noticed her hair was different, longer, more curls, more African….and just like her it was all the more untamed…the glint in her eye was still there and the African print top she wore radiated pride in her motherland. On her hands she wore shells…she always did love shells. She said they reminded her of the ocean, she was of both the land and the sea, she was everything in between and it was amazing to watch. As she came even closer she smiled at me. Damn. I pinched myself under the table to confirm that I was alive….because this felt like heaven…and she was an angel.

She was here. She was standing opposite me. I was shaken. The anxiety seemed to take its toll on me right now and I could feel the cold chill run down my spine until she broke the silence. “Hey” was I crazy? Couldn’t I say it back? No I couldn’t. I was frozen in time because that voice was like milk chocolate dripping with strawberries. She touched my chest and I almost tripped away from reality. I towered over her and she had to look up and her eyelashes that hid her perfect eyes were elongated and made her eyes even more beautiful. “hello love” I said while reaching out to her waist for a hug….I had just touched her when I felt the bolt of electricity shoot through me and I was almost left paralyzed in awe of what this woman could do…but immediately I touched her she recoiled away from me and the suddenness of how she moved away from me stung like swords through the centre off my soul…I looked at her, veiling the hurt with my eyes and she looked shyly up and me and then immediately avoided eye contact…what in the world was happening here and how had things gone so terribly wrong before even beginning? “What’s wrong?” I found the courage to ask. Silence. We stood there in silence for what seemed like an eternity until she spoke up, “I can’t do this.” “Can’t do what?” I asked as my heart became heavy within my ribcage and I knew it was over. She somehow knew I loved her but didn’t feel the same…my heart was crushed…up until I felt a warm set of plush lips push up against my own and in that one second of shock, I realized she was kissing me and I held her body close to mine as I returned the kiss with ardor and passion, well if heaven didn’t feel like this then I didn’t want to go there anymore this was quite enough for me.
She moved away from me momentarily and struggled to catch her breath…”this…I can’t pretend to just be okay with being friends with you when I’m in love with you” and she turned to leave….what was happening? My brain was spinning at 360 and I couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on through the rapid time loop of the kiss I was in. wait what? Did she just say she was in love with me? As all these thoughts sailed across my mind I realized the woman I loved had just left and probably thought I didn’t feel the same way about her. I rushed out to find her breathing in and out in mindless procession and I knew she was fighting off a panic attack…I held her chin and brought her lips closer to mine and kissed her again…the electrolytes I my body would probably give me a heart attack right about now because of how supercharged they were broke it off and as my usual charming self I said “well, I’ll go back inside the restaurant…I just ordered a meal for two and I’m still starving” with an absolute smirk on my face and she smiled, more like blushed as she put her hand in mine and we walked back in.

This is by no means a competition with anyone!!!

Chimamanda Ngozi once said “we raise girls to view each other as competitors, not for jobs or for accomplishments, which I think can be a good thing, but for the attention of men.
I beg to slightly differ. This isn’t a competition and should never have to be viewed as one. Have you ever seen how men back each other up half the time? So strong that it’s enviable.
Maybe it’s high time we stop competing against each other and stand with each other. To stop waiting for the chance to overtake another female and to celebrate her accomplishments and opportunities don’t disappear and aren’t limited to the spot that that woman holds.
You’re not a better mother than her because your child goes to private school or because your husband stayed and hers left, if anything she needs a little more support.
I walk in town and I never hesitate to uplift a woman…”hey, your dress looks nice…hey your bag is lovely’

Once I told a girl she’s very beautiful and she looked at me funny and as I walked away she called to me and asked why. She added by asking what’s wrong with her that I actually said that to her. I almost choked on my own saliva. I simply told her she’s beautiful and I was simply letting her know it. She said girls don’t say that to each other and I took that as a challenge. Women don’t expect compliments or a good eye from their fellow females, and that’s the reality of the world we live in. God knows the number of times I’ve gotten a stink eye from women in town when I was looking sharp or pretty (considering I wear pajamas more often than not-it’s a conscious choice by the way)
And that shouldn’t be the case.
Another time while leaving the supermarket I told a lady her makeup looked so nice and she smiled so brightly and said it was her first time with a full face of makeup she thought she overdid it or looked horrible and she said several thank you I felt so happy afterwards that it made the rest of my day as I’m sure it did hers.
Let’s learn. We don’t rise by stepping on others. This is an international women’s day. Celebrating all the queens living life without malice for other women. To all the mothers, engineers, lawyers, factory workers, students, etc. to every woman, sister, mother, daughter, niece…we are not in a competition with the men or more so with each other. We are simply winning it for ourselves and uplifting those on the way to winning it.
HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMENS DAY LADIES

I would kill you but I love you

Here’s a little piece I wrote before,…I stuck with something familiar as it’s the first time..

I would kill you but I love you,the way you lie so beautifully that I stick around .I would kill you but I love you.the way your eyes threaten to cry when I say I’m leaving you.the way I know you’re wrong for me but my heart sings a different song.

I would kill you ,but I love you.when the scars on my body keep yelling at me to leave but the smile on your face and the feel of your caress on my cheeks,I’m bound again.i look in the mirror,at the worthlessness I’ve become,at how you’ve reduced me to nothing,at how I’ve allowed you to,but I still stay,knowing you’ll build me up again in a short while,shower me with temporary praises,sweet nothings,and I’ll believe you..yet again

I would kill you but I love you, the way you lie on my chest ,so trusting that I won’t use the Glock on the stand …that gun that you’ve used numerous times to threaten me with..I would kill you but I love you..I do know better, but I’m stuck,if only I could rip my heart out and end both of us. I would kill you but damn..I love you. You’re my weakness. My desire. You don’t give enough,just barely, making sure I’m left wanting what I can’t really have

Is it too much? How dependent I am on you? Is it love?? When I clearly know I’d pull the trigger??if only . …if only I didn’t love you..bit my only mistake darling. Is that I do..my mistake is your saving grace …

Newbie…

I’m not exactly new to writing ..but I’m new to a mass of people reading my content …

I’m not a pro..mind you…I am ..

Special thanks to UmulKheir Godano:cowife.. thank you your blog and you in general inspires me everyday

Watirinjeri you’re my strength from a distance..the strongest woman I know.

New post up by tommorow…😊😊