Sunday 28th May, 2017.

8:30 p.m.

What the fuck do you see?

I feel like a child. I feel the insecure 14 year old girl that I once was. I feel like an idiot. Too afraid to voice so many fucking things. Do you think I’m lying? Do you think I ever wanted to be stuck this way and still have people to this day think of me as immature for not saying things? Don’t you think I annoy myself the most? I have to deal with me every fucking day.

When I work up enough courage to say things, it’s pointless almost every time. I know you know what I’m talking about. It makes me sad that some things that kinda meant something to me, that would’ve made some type of memory for me, ain’t shit anymore. That’s how I feel.

If these things I saw in my head were physical and brittle, every one of them would’ve been shattered by now. Every one of them tainted. I don’t even want to think about them anymore – when they were all that I thought of. I don’t want you to read this and feel bad or anything negative. This is just how I feel.

I am so sorry for what I did. I am just a quiet person. You know how sometimes, may be, you sit and just watch and try to feel and embrace every thing around you? I was just feeling. Like a fucking corpse. Hahahaha.

Right now, I don’t even wanna fucking do it again. I know I said it’ll be different next time but… I must be so bad at it.

8:42 p.m.

My dad just walked in on me crying xDDDDDD thank you for hiding my face, sadly not my voice, laptop xD



Friday 26th May, 2017.

10:24 p.m.

So I found out today all the events, that led up to Tuesday 7th March, 2017 – this evening actually. My grandfather died on that day. He wasn’t a good man. My ma told me what had occurred since before February 13th and… I wish she didn’t have to go through all that. My grandfather, that lived with us, was my paternal grandfather. He was a miserable old, white man.

He verbally and physically abused his wife and children, which led to my mother and sisters (not the half – sisters or half – brother) being verbally abused as well. He started a cycle that I hope died when he did.

He had refused to eat in February. Stressing my mother because he was starving himself. He got so weak that he couldn’t get out of bed himself. The amount of times my mother described finding him unable to move on the floor. She shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that.

They called a doctor in and my granddad told the doctor that nothing was wrong with, that he wants to die. He was depressed. Same routine every single day. They put him on medication, but he still wasn’t eating. Once, when my ma was giving him his medication, he told her that he wanted my dad, his son, to end up like him. Without a penny to his name and alone.

I’m telling you right now, as long as I am breathing, that will never be my father. How dare that man wish something like that on my father? As if that would ever be his fate.

At some point, before he slipped and fell in the bathroom downstairs, he had started drinking different beverages again. He could have recovered. I can’t remember if he had fell on the Thursday before March 7th, but it was before the weekend.

Even mommy said he probably wouldn’t have expected to go that way.

I still don’t feel sorry that he’s dead. What I feel sorry about is the fact that nothing was mended. No apologies made. Truly sad.

10:41 p.m.

#PoemChallenge: Hang Up!

When he would call –

she would answer.


Now he calls and waits on the other end –

somehow he lost her over the cables.


She’s miles away from him.

If a phone rings and no one is around to hear it,


does it still make a sound?

Does she even cares if it rings?


He still calls –

maybe she’ll pick up today.


Maybe, but

if she does,

Will she hang up?



Tuesday 23rd May, 2017.

12:00 a.m.

I couldn’t do well because I didn’t want to be there. Now that I’m here and not there I wish that I could’ve tried harder. I feel like such a disappointment. Like such a failure. She said she’ll always be proud of me but I think she thinks I’ll do well.

In the end these things don’t matter. What are grades? You yourself said exams aren’t an accurate representation of a person’s abilities. It’s okay.

12:03 a.m.

6:48 p.m.

Maybe I’m not as confident as I thought I was. Maybe I’m not confident at all and instead ignore a lot of things. Maybe I just don’t care.

To be honest, I don’t remember exactly when I stopped giving a fuck about what people thought about me but I knew it was during form 6. When I realized that absolutely nothing was wrong with my small boobs. When the “at least I’m not flat – chested” and “at least I don’t look like a man” (I had about two inches of hair then hahahaha) stopped hurting my feelings.

I never was the one to decide how I looked… naturally hahahaha. No one can determine any of that. I remember telling myself all of that one day, and I stopped caring. No one is ugly, and to be quite frank I don’t think anyone can call anyone beautiful either. Maybe that’s why when I get a compliment about my bare face I don’t know how to respond. Do I say “thank you” for something I had no control over? For something you find attractive?

I don’t know. I only see people as being “attractive” and “unattractive” – attractive meaning I will  very much like to procreate with you hahahaha. I try not to be biased with anything, so when you say I’m pretty, most times (depending on from who), I don’t feel anything. I don’t care – I don’t think about it late at night when I try to go to bed. If you’re a guy then I’ll probably think you kind of like me, but that’s it.

I think of bodies as just being a vessel for us to do everything with. For us to move about and do whatever it is that we’re doing. My friend was once doing some experiment to see how persons viewed themselves, and she asked me how would I rate myself on a scale of 1-10. I couldn’t think of a number. I told her I could say -319 or 150 and feel the same way about either. What meaning does any of those numbers between 1-10 have?

To me, nothing.

6:51 p.m.


Spinning in circles around him

like a ballerina in a box.

Though she’s dizzy, she keeps going.


Hoping to one day catch his attention.

And when she doesn’t? –

She wanes like a candle being snuffed out.


Stifled by the shine of another heavenly glow.

Who glows a blinding gold –

Who has him wrapped around her finger.


Until one day she was blocked out.

The waxing dancer had stolen her shine.

He was hers for just a moment – all he could see.


All she did was bury his gold.

Tuesday 16th May, 2017.

1:25 p.m.

I don’t want to go home tomorrow. It took no time for Wednesday to be right around the corner. Yesterday was my birthday and it was great! Birthdays aren’t necessarily a big deal for me but yesterday was pretty special. I appreciated everything every one did for me – especially what you did (: You know who you are. Thank you for making me feel special.

photo - Copy.JPG

1:27 p.m.

Sunday 14th May, 2017.

1:25 p.m.

Today is Mother’s day. I actually don’t know where to start this, ha ha ha ha. I’ve known this woman all my life. I could recognize her voice and shape anywhere. I don’t know what the back of my hand looks like from memory, but I can immediately visualize the back of hers.

I hope her, of all persons, can see and understand how much love I have for her. I use to want to be a mother as a child because of you. I wanted to love people like you loved me and everyone else. I am as kind-hearted as I am because of you. Thank you for not allowing me to close my heart to a lot of things.

I remember once when I was a teenager and stood crying in front of my bedroom mirror, you told me from the doorway, three feet to my left, that “we don’t choose our parents, but we choose how we treat our children”. Thank you.

You will never see this, and that makes me kind of sad. I should call you after I blow my nose, ha ha ha. I love you, mommy.

1:32 p.m.





knows the material he uses to make our clothes doesn’t matter to me.


I understand that’s his way of apologizing – his way of making things right. What I


want is for us to be the threads of the cloth – tightly woven, almost inseparable.

Him and I are so alike it’s dangerous. I just want him

to know that he doesn’t have to

be like him – he has the choice to be


Saturday 13th May, 2017.

11:11 a.m.

I’ll be going home on Wednesday. I’ve waited all semester for that day, yet I don’t want to leave just yet. It’s almost as if I’ve woken up in a bubble. A lot of the things that were at the forefront of my mind are no longer there. I don’t want to go home just yet. I wish all the things that had happened almost two weeks ago had happened sooner. That would’ve been some great, but strange, motivation.

Is a week and a few days too soon to start caring about someone? Like really start caring? “Like they only went to the pool, which is like a 10-15 minutes walk away, yet you tell them to “be safe” caring”? Feelings are a weird thing for me. I just let them happen without considering time as a variable. I am definitely an emotional person and I love to be liked… and loved.

I remember once I had read something about a person who was addicted to the feeling of falling in love or being in love – I had thought they were crazy, but I understand now. I’m afraid that I’ll never settle down because I’ll keep searching for that love that never gets old. I’ll probably always feel as though I’m missing out, that there’s more out there that I need. I’ll just have to wait and see.

I feel happier since the last time I wrote. I realize the more I talk to any of my parents about how I feel or about what’s bothering me that I always feel better after. I wish I had never conditioned myself to deal with everything alone. I’m 21 and only just beginning to discuss with them how I truly feel about certain things. Better late than never I suppose.


11:29 a.m.

Thursday 11th May, 2017.

3:03 p.m.

Well, someone finally convinced me to get a blog here, so here I am. I have a Tumblr but I wouldn’t post the stuff that I think I would here on there. So far, I like how everything here is laid out and straight-forward ^-^. Stupid me would’ve had trouble navigating if it weren’t so.

Anyways, my exams are finally over and done with for this semester. I wish I could’ve been as happy as I want to but this is by far the worst semester of my life, and not just because of school. Although, school had made it worse.

I just didn’t want to be here, and that’ll definitely show in my grades… I wish they weren’t such a big deal for me. I feel like I have a good amount of people on my shoulders. It’s not like they’re nagging me to always do well but I don’t want to disappoint them.

I tend to do pretty good in school and they’ll tell everyone. I understand that elated feeling they have because they’re happy for me, but I’m embarrassed when they can’t tell anyone  how well I did – because I didn’t.

I’m pass the age where I felt as though I were in constant competition with my classmates. I don’t feel bad when I’m not at the top of the class, I could’ve been at the bottom and not care. Maybe if I wasn’t on a scholarship and didn’t have to show a room of people my grades I’d feel better about doing bad.

I don’t know the final results as yet so I should stop fretting – but I’m a thinker. I think of all the possible outcomes and how I can deal with them before they even happen. I always want to prepare myself for the worst. I need to just let go of that and let things be.

3:21 p.m.