Can you believe it is 2013 already?
Can you believe it is 2013 already?
Hey, I’m staring at you, yes you
How do i feel about sundays?
I wasn’t kidding when i said so
But seriously though
It has been the same since i was eight
Mum used to say
We cannot be late
I hated sunday mornings
arrrghhh i had to get up at 5am
I could barely open my eyes
Mum kept knocking on the door
“you need to get up”
5 mins more please.
Can i just sleep for 5 more mins
We had to beat everyone to church to get a good seat
My tummy was always in a knot
how can you get up that early
and have nothing to eat.
in the car my lil sister is jumping up and down
pisses me off
How can someone be that excited this early in the morning
I manage to shut the noise from her mouth out
Maybe i can snooze a lil before we get to church
drifted off for something that felt like 2 seconds
And the happy noise again
“we are here, we are here”
I just felt like slapping her
but the throbbing headache stopped me.
I loved the praise and worship
and the choir ministration
angelic voices and the cute choir leader
I always stare at him.
If i could just hang him up in my room and press his nose whenever i want him to sing
nahhhh! i bet he could do much more with those beautiful, full, firm looking lips,
hmmmm, wondered what they taste like…vanilla, strawberries, mashed mellows… Yummy!!!
And SMACK!!!! At the back of my head
Mum knocked me out of my day dream
Stand up! she frowned at me.
oh crap! its time for the hymn
I was embarrassed by the “less than holy thought” i was having in church
I shrugged at my human self and joined the congregation to sing.
Our pastor had a way with words
ministers to my soul
uplifts my spirit
the words in the same bible i read makes more sense when he says it.
I feel refreshed, powerful, confident when i leave the church
but now i’m thinking about food
Its 10am and i feel like i haven’t eaten for days
Join mum in the kitchen to make breakfast
toast, eggs, hashed browns, mum special sauce… yummmmmm
I can’t move a muscle, i’m so full
All i could think about was my bed and soft pillows
I stagger to my room and just before i close my eyes i glance at the time 12 noon
Thoughts of the cute choir leader’s lips flood by mind
I smile off to dream land
Sunday afternoon sleep is the sweetest
always tell my friends don’t u dare call me after 12 noon on sunday.
And even though i’m all grown up and living on my own,
no matter what i’m doing at noon on sundays
All i wanna do crawl up somewhere and sleep the rest of the day.
This was written by my very young friend. Enjoy!!! and Share!!!
No matter how many ways it’s thought about, and told not to matter, color still means a lot to me. For one? I’m what many would call white-washed. It’s just the way I was raised. And of course, this didn’t really bother me, I mean I hung out with Caucasians all the time, but I didn’t think about one major difference between the all of us. I was black, African-Native, and they were not. I had a coloring in a mixture of brown and black, and they had different versions of white. Blue eyes, brown hair; green eyes, blond hair. I didn’t realize just how much I didn’t fit in until I met Seth Richard. He was white, as white as could be really, with an all American background and family. I had the biggest crush on him, until the day I talked to him. We were on the bus, and laughing at some joke that Emily, his younger sister, made. And then we went under a tunnel and Seth burst out laughing, causing all eyes to turn to him. In reply, he stated with a wide grin:
“Holy shit Lauren, I can’t see anything but your smile right now!”
The rest of the gang burst into uncontrollable laughter when Emily added that I would make a great ninja. Brandon, Seth’s closest friend then added: “Or a great thief at night”. I know, they were kidding, they were just messing around! But it was at that moment that I became so awakened at my true color. I was black, a mix of black and brown, and they were not. Seth had the brightest blue eyes, and the darkest shade of blonde hair I’d ever seen, but he was still white. And I was not.
I kept pushing away my difference in color. I mean, I hung out with white people too often to realize that I just wasn’t them. Soon after, I realized I couldn’t even trust them like I wished to. Their problems were: “My mom won’t get me the new iphone, so I’m settling for s samsung” and mine were: “What should I cook for this evening” Then the differences became more and more obvious. They could wear the shortest shorts, and the slimmest dresses, but for me, and even though I was young, I still had a form of hips. Noticeable hips that paired with a very slender torso. I couldn’t be flat, and so I started telling myself I was fat, I was too wide and nothing looked good on me. I also learned that that’s what brought some guys to me, only, I learned it in the worst way. It was winter ball, and I was wearing a tight fitting beautiful one shoulder silver dress. I felt beautiful in it, and I was told I was also. At the location of the dance, I met a guy named Charlie. He was beautiful, there was just no other name for him. With bright hazel eyes and shaggy brown hair, I just couldn’t hold back in wanting to meet him.
“So, Charlie, I hear you can dance”
When I said this, He smiled almost smugly. “You’ve heard correctly”
I took a hold of his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor. It was a song I knew well, and so singing to it came on reflex. Charlie complimented me on my singing just as we began dancing. It was perfect. The lights were dim, the music blasting and I couldn’t get over the feel of his warm hands on my waist. When the song was over, I took him back to his friends and told him he was right, I mean, he was a good dancer for sure. When I reached my other friends, who all had witnessed our little grind session, They laughed and agreed when I said he was hot. Then, his cousin, Kayla, came up and was all:
“I’m guessing you like him?”
I shrugged. “He’s cute”
She then smiled and said. “Well, he said the same, only uh, he seemed to like that ass of yours more than anything”
She joined my friends in their laughter, but I could only look at where Charlie was standing, he glanced at my body then turned his attention away with a smile, dismissing me almost instantly. That was my breaking point. I mean, I’m not saying I am exactly the most beautiful thing in the world, but I do feel that I at least look pretty. It didn’t help though, that every other freshman had done something; had their first kiss, had at least one boyfriend in their time. Me? I was a kiss-virgin, church-going, thirteen year old girl, who had never felt more…alone in her life. My Roommate at the time could tell I was upset, she noticed I had been crying in the car while she sat in the back with her date (who later became her boyfriend of only two weeks). But instead of telling her exactly how I felt, I brushed her off completely.
I didn’t want her to know I was upset, because I wanted to be pretty enough to have a boyfriend, or at least be less awkward enough to know how to flirt. The only person who seemed to see me as more, was my best friend, Alkali, who at the time had better things to do with his life then bother it with my problems.
Alkali had known me for about twelve years. Even though we had lost contact, I still never forgot about him. Sometimes, I even felt as if I was in love with him. But then, I got pushed back into reality whenever he would promise to call me back and somehow forget, or “lose my number”. In other words, I really hated him on the other times. He always had drama as his best friend, so I guess he didn’t need me after all.
But there were times, when I didn’t feel so alone. I would call very late, at at least twelve midnight. And he would read his poetry, which really was the only window to his real thoughts and feelings, to me. And sometimes, if I got lucky, and he wasn’t to busy flirting with random girls or boys, he would sing to me. He was a tone deaf singer when he was tired, but I loved it, because his voice wasn’t perfect. Which was perfect to me, because I felt as if I could use a little imperfection. He would talk about his family problems, and I felt special, because at least he trust me with all of his problems. He was a bisexual drama queen, and I couldn’t have had any one better than a great guy like him, who I still think I’m falling madly in love with.
The color of my skin made me feel…too different. I was always worried that people were just as paranoid about skin color as I was. So, I was always focused on trying not to look in the mirror too long, and gaze at my dark brown eyes in disgust because hell, They were just too plain. Wearing bikini’s were also a problem. I didn’t have my curves (I still don’t) and I felt that my breasts were just too small to look good with such obvious hips. My thighs always looked to big, sometimes too small. It was written in bold letters, that I am too imperfect.
I was a white washed black girl, obviously a disgrace to black people who loved the skin they were in. I always felt as if there was always too much wrong with me.
That hope for finding a guy that could accept me a hundred percent seemed too far away, too much of a dream. I mean gosh! I was told many times, I can’t dance, yet my hips can. I was two people trapped in the body of someone who could’ve been beautiful if I just let myself see that. I wanted someone to love me, but the love I wanted so badly, was too far beyond my years.
I’m fourteen now, still holding on the dream of finding someone perfect. But until that happens, I’m more focused on trying to see me. The real me. The girl that loves to read, to write, to sing, to dance, to make people happy, to be the greatest I can be. I just want to be me.
I want people to look at me and smile a real smile. I want people to see that I am a good person, I’m just a good person with low self-confidence.
The meaning of my color has always been said to mean strength. To be black, and have to deal with the judgmental looks others give just because we are a minority group. TO be strong means to be able to fight on. So yeah, I’m not perfect. I’m not beautiful, and I’m the most bipolar person you can meet.
But at least I’m trying. At least I’m still fighting to be the best I can be.
I’m still running toward the finish line, because take away my insecurities, and out blooms who I really am. A Black-Native girl, mixed of black and brown, and a white smile you can see through a tunnel. A girl with an unfinished figure, and a mane of curls I can only tame with three hours of straightening. A girl who holds on to the dream that someone will love me for being me.
Then again, I’m hoping for a love beyond my years.
But what do I know after all? Hell, I’m just a fourteen year old girl getting a little stronger each and every day.
Saturday night or i should say morning Rachel glanced at the alarm clock
and those perfectly shaped lips
My mum have been on and on about how untidy my room is.
I can’t be bothered to fix this,with my bathroom looking like a kitchen.
Littered with several cups because I keep taking a new one whenever I get hiccups chilling in my bath tub.
Who cares if my bed is my wardrobe and I’m sleeping under it with a necklace hanging almost from my ear lobes.
My waste bin sits right in front of my TV because every trash I throw has to sink like a free throw.
Yeah,I love basketball that much.
I think about it like it was some woman I long to hump.
Oh well,that’s it!
I’m not even wearing a basketball kit
Because in this world,it doesn’t fit.
Here,there are candles lit.
Different colors in several shapes.
Shapes! In front of me there’s a form behind the drapes.
Something like a figure eight.
And then two things glows through.
They look like pebbles.
I step a little closer,they shine brighter.
Then a split right below this pair of diamonds.
Then I see them,other sparkling diamonds.
About 32 of them in two layers.
Coming towards me,it steps out of the darkness.
I’m Star struck!Oh my goodness.
Where did she come from?
Looking flawless like a goddess.
Or even some princess.
Butterflies fly all over
Making circles in my stomach
My intestines feel intertwined
Like I had some wine in excess.
This creature hit me like a tornado
Leaves my inside a mess
Just as my room is a mess.
Only this tornado smells nice.
She parts her lips to smile.
Opens her mouth slightly
Before she says anything I give her a kiss first.
I am afraid she might swing her hand to my face.
To my surprise she kisses me back
Even deeper, I am thrown aback
The butterflies in my stomach
For a second they act like scorpions
Crawl for half a second then sting the other split second.
Then like ripples,goose pimples invade my arms.
Layer after layer they spread like wild fire
The taste in my mouth is sweet
I have never tasted anything like it
That’s when she speaks
She speaks to me in a voice so sleek
Oh,This is real! What a feel!
She says to me,come with me
That’s when she walks back how she came.
And I follow as I ask for her name.
Pacing up and down in the living room
I said to myself
Today is the day,
I am going to do it
A Whole Lot of Mouth With A Whole Lot to Say
Makeup Artist/ Hair stylist
Conversations between a not so "typical" Nigerian husband and his wife
The Official Gr8an Blog
Fantasies of a closet romantic
Just My Thoughts
A Beautiful Mind
All things natural and chic
''read, and good things your mind shall gather: write, and great things your mind shall father''- edomalo
Just another WordPress.com site
African Fashion and Beauty Blog, How to makeup ,Ankara Styles
...PR and Things...
Courtney Nicole Photography
Random, Raw & Simple
All things Bright & Beautiful
WEEKLY QUOTE: Through pride we are ever deceiving ourselves. But deep down below the surface of the average conscience a still, small voice says to us, Something is out of tune.
the universe within.