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Friday, 18 July 2014

Pinching at the positive




image by Oshirit1




Its hard to think positively when your going through a rough stretch, in fact positivity can sometimes be the last thing on your mind. Yet when we tilt into a negative overture, it's best to find the positive things to focus on. Some may be many others may be few, yet if you don't have a little faith life will throw you and you will become toppled by our own feelings of inferiority, and the demons that lurk. Trust me i know i've been there.
Fight as hard as you can list the top ten things that will make you smile and another ten that will make you laugh.

Mine Smilers
Ice cream
Exercise
Writing
Dancing
Spending time with family
Making new friends
Coming up with a new idea
watching Sound of Music
Working on my blog, or reading
shopping


Mine laugh list
Funny films......endlessly
a joke made by my sister
My dog gogo and her funny humping habbit
Sadly when someone trips
You've been framed
sitcoms American dad and South Park
A funny quote
When a celebrity has done something ridiculous

The Omnibus










We reach
Stealthily climbing
from pain
a rung
Our battered sung
We eat the egg
of wise ones wombs
Forever needing
absent doom
The prick of tears
and subtle mess
I bite my tongue
were in distress
For harps lay sombre
and they weep
The bitter sting
the omnibus keep

Fallen Forgiveness: Why sometimes it's hard to let things slide



image by denizaybar

Yesterday, and today i thought about the irony of life. Of feeling lost alone and completely vulnerable. Almost two or three years ago i wrote a note out of the kindness of my heart to someone, it was done with the innocence you have when your still naieve and deluded about the sainthood of people. I thought he was a nice person. For years despite making me the object of ridicule, for almost two or three years out of a jealousy and a loathing that came from somewhere, standing by as i was targeted and harassed by family. Soon enough he began to spread malicious rumours about me throughout the neighbourhood, getting frustrated every time another man called me or went near me, whenever i was seen happy with someone, and before long he dragged other people into this warped obsession. From being called the ugly one, a slag, a slut, a whore, the African myth of fear, the family embarassment. Today i thought about how much was in my account, i had enough money to buy rope, i had enough money to hang myself. I wrote a note to my mother apologising for being so weak, i thought about where i'd do it, in a park with an oak tree where the branch was strong. It had become too much. I was tired of the abuse because i had written a note to a guy who was completely fucked up. As i stepped out unto the street, the family round the corner who were endorsed by his and his mothers obsession began screaming out of the windows as i stepped out unto the street, slut, whore, slag, when i told family i was often told it was in my head or the paranoid side effects of the epilepsy Medications i was on. When the insults were clearly loud enough to hear. This all began with one letter. It happened daily despite his mother who suffered from her own mental health problems, confessing to wanting some 'lesbian experience' with me, and was convinced that if she broke my spirit enough i would be susceptible to the charms she didn't actually have. Each day as i struggled with my own depression, determined yet eager to pick myself up, i was called the ugly dark skinned one, his mother would say " she's the one with problems" whilst his sister obsessed and jealous beyond contempt would request to follow me wherever i went.

Till the day i die i will hate these people they stand for nothing. Growing up i was told that if you were nice to people they would be nice to you back. His mother specialised in spells and Witchcraft, telling a series of lies, from the fact i was an ex prostitute looking for work, to a whole series of lies. This woman was so obsessed with me, it became truly bizarre, fairness rules equality. I realised i refused to be treated less than because my sister was the light skinned one and i was the dark skinned one. From being called the Epileptic monkey, hearing his family laugh about an epileptic seizure i had, and consistently hearing the statement "these are rumours  and accusations." I thought about the concept of fair, all this started because i was kind enough to write a note to a guy who i saw had no self esteem. As i regularly worked on projects, and eagerly tried to move forward, despite a sheer loathing for him as a man and everything he stood for, it became clear to me this guy had more troubles of his own. He would consistently shout the words " I made a mistake!!"  As though ruining someone's family life is a mistake like spilling milk on the floor, pouring sauce on someone's clothes, accidentally ripping an item of clothing. His mother would consistently announce to others that i made her feel inadequate. I believe she felt inadequate because of all the disgusting things she'd done to people. At one point him and his mother not knowing i could hear this strategically attempted to get me sectioned so they could have access to my brothers network and connections. On the surface they appeared normal beneath the surface they were a mess. They'd often say loud enough that an ex best friend had died, knowing i missed her at times. The family they had involved had eyes on our property. I was constantly pointed at by a neighbourhood bully whose obsession was to shout "That girl pisses people off because...." i'd never had a real conversation with this guy in my life. The only conversation i remember was one where he asked me if i liked harrods. During a group session i remember he had walked with me asking a series of personal questions, taken aback, i politely provided info, but kept myself at a distance. I didn't want to get close to any strangers at the time.

I wonder about the fairness of it all. This started simply because of a letter i had written out of the kindness of my heart. I think of an article i wrote a while ago about forgiveness, and i realise there are some people it is extraodinarily hard to forgive almost impossible.For those of you who suffer with the ache of pain, and find it almost impossible to forgive a slight, forgiveness will give you relief, give you healing, yet there are some sins which are hard to forgive. Then i realize, i refuse to buy that rope. Karma is the biggest punisher, their days will come.

Thursday, 10 July 2014

The unpretty ones

   







 The funniest thing about being seen as the ugly one is you have no cause to defend it. I realised how painfully shallow the world is, because of one letter i was crucified. Then i had some parrot shouting excuses defending his shallowness, saying such things as "i pissed people off blah blah blah," when actually he targeted me because i'm seen as physically less attractive and an easier target. Why didn't he take on a man, after all i'm tomboyish so that gave him credence, but as i was called every name under the sun from slag, slut,whore,Nigga,Epileptic monkey, and as the person who started this consistently made a fake apology based on his own opportunistic needs. I realised what i had chosen to ignore. I may not be the prettiest belle in the ball, nor am i as one of the guys tearing me down said, " a light skinned beauty." I realised for the first time that i'm not home. In Africa my dark skin would have been celebrated, in Africa dark skinned women are seen of things of beauty. There are those who choose to make the wrong choices and bleach their skin, but i thought of this today as i threw a wedding dress i'd bought into the dust bin. Whether i was intelligent or not who would marry a girl like me, and worst of all how could i have children and feed them the same garbage id been feeding myself for years. Because the people who sought to destroy me were black people, or ethnic people, how could i preach to them about community, and black people sticking together when it was always compromised. People often argued this and so would i in puzzlement, there is room for all of us why is it that when black people are in social situations like the workplace, or in relation to facilitating each other and climbing up, you are seen as a threat. If you stand out in anyway. You may not be especially beautiful, maybe your strength is intelligent, people decide they can stick together against you. That's when the real sense of community comes. 

Wednesday, 9 July 2014

Kicking the arse of a cold hearted crush



image from tumblr


Brilliant. So i was thinking to myself what would i do if my crush ever came across my romantic ramblings online.Well, Most perfectly sane people would simply lie through their back teeth, going out of their way to convince their crush they have absolutely no feelings for them whatsoever. Especially if their crush has acted badly.
Yet me, a strange martian, from a strange region in mars, have actually visualised myself debating quite fiercely with my crush, about who the crush belongs too. Totally warped i know. "It's not your crush it's mine. These are my feelings, and i have to deal with them"
"What?" My crush would ask in puzzlement,
"Well," and i actually visually created a whole court case scenario, nothing too Oj.
"Now all the evidence points to REJECTION. You won't sit with me, ignore me often, are mean when you have the chance to be nice,"
"So why not deal with it like a normal Sane person, go on a few dates, snob me back, be rude to me back,"
"Because i'm a writer, and i'm a bit eccentric."
"What's wrong with you? I mean seriously, don't you have a boyfriend, cant you get one," he ponders a moment, "don't you have a life?"
"Yes i do." He'll quirk his brows in deep confusion,then step back with hostility. My response? " So long as i'm not acting on these curiosities, infringing on your personal space, forcing conversation till the point you want to shoot me, pallying up with your friends, if i wasn't so visually obvious, you'd never have a clue. Now leave me alone i wanna write about this."

Why would i take on such a stance? Well, people act like being rejected by a crush is something your supposed to be utterly ashamed of. Crap. Were only human, the nature of human beings is to attract and connect. Sometimes the magnetism doesn't work so well,and you end up drawing the circus, or not drawing at all. The expression of love and warmth is a gift, it's also a responsibility. If you share that vulnerability with someone, if you haven't been sadistic or cruel in any way, it says a lot about who they are as an individual. I'm not saying everybody should be break dancing because someone is smitten, or attracted to them, i'd say simply take it for what it is. A compliment. I've been on both sides of the coin, and from my own past immaturity,and some mind boggling experiences, i've learnt to be respectful of someone of kind heart expressing their feelings. If someone has a crush on you and you've acted like a jerk, i promise you those feelings fade, and one day you'll miss their smitten anxious presence by your side. You'll miss the match work conversation that never lit and most of all, you'll resent the fact you weren't a Gentleman or a lady.

It's as simple as this. Crushes are not love their like smoke, it catches you, and there comes a time you blow it out. We've all heard of those guys or girls who act extremely immaturely or cruelly towards someone when they have a crush, only years later to find out that person ends up a millionaire or famous. Rightly so. I dunno if you've ever acted apaullingly to someone who showed too much interest one man or woman's trash is definitely another one's treasure.

The missing: The summation of missing a best friend






Moving on is one of the hardest things to do. Yesterday i heard my ex best friends laugh in the street, it was distinctly hers and i missed her. My heart ached, and i gulped in the sadness, only for it to finally hit home, the feeling was not reciprocated. She knew where i was, knew where i lived, knew my passions, if she had cared enough she would have sought me out. Something would have been said in all the years of absence. It's a funny thing in life, when you think you are to someone and realize with pained reality, in many ways your not. I'd missed many things, such as a laugh a smile, the moments in the car alone where the whole world was our oyster, the debates we had when we lured the world in giving them a pinch of our thoughts. Recently i made a crazy choice, it was a stupid one to me. I'd put aside the little pride i had and in boldness took the nervous cautious steps to her old home. I remembered we wrote passionately, i bought a journal hoping that my eyes would lock on the stranger, and the ghost that haunted my memories.

Then on returning i realised the things i had wanted never came to pass, and maybe god had a reason for everything. I wanted our children to grow up knowing much of each other, going on trips, like in the home alone movies, where the kids are like family. I wanted us to travel and see a world outside the bubble of London, and i'd wanted much to introduce her to one of my heroes, my older brother. I imagined her sipping champagne with us at his country club, us laughing as we networked with mine and my sisters contacts, i imagined introducing her to my nephew Iriah and having debates with my younger brother. I had missed her much, yet i knew in reality, it had never been a friendship shared.

It's the hardest thing to say goodbye to someone you cared about. In time i am making my trip back to the Motherland, and the funniest thing, i hear her voice everywhere, her laughter, our triumphs the comments we made, and then it hit me with much clarity. I can finally let her go. It's been years, i'd make three almost bold steps towards her home, each time i returned back thinking to myself it's time to move on. Let ghosts lie. In the mind of those around me it was an epic fallout, but in my mind when the phone buzzed or rang, i still remembered the soft tone of the friend i missed.

Life is funny, you say goodbye to people with the rage you knew, and see their ghosts everywhere. Their memories haunt you in your dreams, and all the hate you once felt suddenly disappears, but life is cruel at times, for by the time it does, she's wetted her lips and is smiling at you, because she knows their already gone. I think in reality she had been my best friend, childish as it seems, but outside of that bubble i created, it had not been reciprocated. Yet we smile and look for those to fill those neatly organised gaps.

Sunday, 6 July 2014

High jumping Heartbreak: Getting over a broken heart






image from www.huffingtonpost.com


I realize something that i've always known logically, but emotionally never connected. Heartbreak happens, it hurts ,it throbs, it's poison to our fragile pulsing heart. We consistently yearn for the lost ones. How do you get over a broken heart, someone not being all you wanted them to be, you not being a version you wanted to be. Have you stooped screaming at the walls yet, tugging at your hair, chomping your nails, and scrubbing the last push of Ice cream. I'll tell you something that may make you feel just a little bit better, it happens to the glamour models, the supermodels, Royalty, Millionaires, heartbreak is never discreet.

It is loud and angry, at times it is bashful, acidic poison on the tongue. So with your pen stroke it, pet it like it's a purring kitten, sing it to sleep like its a baby in need of a Lullaby and admit to yourself, that your only human.

In life the hardest thing to do is to loose people. The second hardest thing to do is to say Goodbye, the third is to admit you may need to share this pain with someone, and the fourth is to admit maybe you had your part to play, and time heals wounds, but some still leave scars. Today it pissed with rain when i expected sun as i took the steps i counted towards my best friends house, we had fallen out years ago, and i screamed the poison that popped klike pandora out of a whirlwind of pain. It was the dream i had about her the night before where her voice was so familiar, and in that dream i had never said goodbye, i had never let her go. I chased her down sputtering with nervous anxiety, "i thought i lost you. I miss you so much it hurts sometimes." And quietly i said to myself i missed you so much, it throbbed, and the curse of the words i used spat at me, as in the mirror i saw your reflection. As i took the careful steps towards her house, i breathed anxiously and when i buzzed her door number, the reply, "no one under that name lives here anymore," i crumbled into a million broken pieces outside the station where her big smile once engulfed me. I miss you, i sobbed. It was real then, like a ghost creeping into your present guiding into your past. I miss the language that belonged to us, the strides we marched as we moved as one, taking the world on, for it was a shoe we had to wear, and we had our tights on.

How do you move on from heartbreak? You start by forgiving yourself for staying angry so long. When you were rock, and World was Metal, and nothing could penetrate.