My Words, My Thoughts, My Life, My Friends, My Work, My imaginations

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.

Archive for the tag “pain”


Short and lovely piece by my young Friend Dsonuga.

I am not where I belong,

I am not where I am strong.

I am not where I can relate,

I am not where I can hate.

But neither am I where I can love,

Neither am I floating above.

Now, I’m here,

Where I can only shed a tear for the life I’ve left behind.

Where there I am complete,

Here, I must compete for a place in a place where there is no place to be.

There is no place for me.

There is no place to be,

For a girl like me,

A girl that can barely stand on her own two feet.


The meaning of color

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.



The Pain in My Chest

Saturday night or i should say morning Rachel glanced at the alarm clock

It was 3:15 am again

This was the 5th night she was waking up at exactly the same time
Waking up to the same sharp pain
she pushed herself out of bed, to the bathroom
Opened the wardrobe at the top of the mirror
Popped two pills (tylenol)
Her eyes were burning red
Thinking to herself
I am tired, oh sooooo tired of this pain
It won’t go away
I have tried everything
This pain in my chest, i have taken every pain pill i know of
Nothing worked
This pain in my chest, i tried to drink it all away
All i got was drunk with empty bottles of pinot noir
This pain in my chest, all the sweet words of my loved ones
Won’t heal it.
Ok! she thought tomorrow is sunday, i am going to pray this pain away
Early sunday morning, she got dress in her best skirt suit
Made her way to church
Even though she has not been there in months
She prayed hard
Asked God to take this pain away
Sunday night/ morning, 3:15 am she was up again
This night worse than the others
Felt like someone was squeezing from the inside
She staggered to the bathroom, popped two more pills
She called her doctor, Sorry to bug you this late doc
I need to come in the morning
I can’t seem to shake this pain in my chest
Monday morning
Grabbed her cup of coffee
Got into her car
plugged her iPhone
Fired up her Favourite playlist
Music will make me feel better she thought
Emeli Sande, Snow Patrol, Jessie J, Natasha Bedingfield, Frank Ocean
She socked in every single lyric as she drove to the doctor’s office
Series of exams later
She sitting in the waiting room
Fidgeting, biting her finger nails, paranoid
Freaking out
Do i have some kind of condition?
Am i going to need surgery?
The doctor came back with the results
Would you step into my office he says
Now she’s shaking, hot and cold all at once
Doc opens his mouth to speak and she closed her eyes
waiting for the worst
I don’t know how to say this but
Rachel, there is nothing wrong with you physically
I’m sorry but i think it is all in your head
I suggest you go see your therapist
“You want me to go see a shrink” she snapped at him
Thanks for your time doctor,
she stormed out of the office
Heart racing
the shooting pain was back
She rushed to her car, tears in her eyes
She sat down for a few minutes
Her head on the steering wheel
She put her palm on her chest
She let her mind flash back through the last one week
Thought of all that happened
Events that she suppressed and blocked out
As the memories flushed back, the pain worsened
Then she realised it
It was her heart, nursing this pain in her chest
Poor Little Rachel
Her precious heart was broken.


Pacing up and down in the living room

I said to myself

Today is the day,

I am going to do it

I am going to find my voice
I will tell you exactly  how i feel
I have been waiting for so long
picked up my glass of chardonnay
took a big gulp
looked over at the bottle,
it was almost empty
i kept drinking
As thought about it carefully
Over and over again in my head
I heard the door open
My hearts skipped a beat
My mouth suddenly turned dry
My palm sweating
it was time
I Open my mouth to speak and it all came gushing
like water through a broken cistern
How could you do these to me? i screamed
I gave you  everything
my whole world, My life, My love, My heart
And you act like it means nothing to you.
Who was there when u were nothing?
Who was there when you were down?
Who was there when u needed someone to believe in you?
i asked between gritted teeth
Now u have it all
everything u ever dreamed of and it becomes so easy to forget
We don’t mean nothing to you anymore?
i was shaking, screaming at the top voice
i could feel my lungs aching
NO NO NO!!!!
You can’t throw all we toiled to build away
you just can’t
I won’t let you.
I’m talking to you
Look at me
please answer, say something,
ANSWER ME damn it!!!!!!
Silence was all i could hear and the sound of my heart racing
I was so mad, pretending you can’t hear me?
My blood was boiling
I couldn’t take it anymore
There was nothing i could do
So, i THREW A PUNCH real hard
Instantly, i felt a sense of release,
It was replaced by a sharp pain
Then the smell of fresh blood filled my nostrils
And there came the voice of my frightened 2year old baby girl “MAMAAAAA” she cried out
I looked at my fist, still moulded from throwing that punch
dripping with blood
I looked up slowly to the hundred images of myself in the shattered mirror in front of me.

That Wednesday


This wednesday morning I know something isn’t right.
My heart keeps straying like an airplane that’s lost it’s light.
I can’t place my finger on it and my mind is blank as white.

What could have gone wrong,this beautiful bright morning.
I step out of class even though next period is in five minutes.

It looks beautiful because it is spring. The flowers looking gorgeous and the fields so green.
I try to smile and end up with a grin. A grin that breaks into tears,drop after drop they tumble off of my face.
Something is certainly wrong and I have to find out.

I pack my books in a hurry and head for the dormitory.
I pick up a few things including my car keys.
I drive down the road switching lanes,the traffic is tight as though the road is filled with cranes.

Cranes,I lift my face and there they are about ten of them or is it twenty? No,they are so many. I would have being alive if I’d hit the brakes on time before I ran my car into a pack of machines. Rochelle,my sister,my only sister,she’ll cry so hard and probably even die of hurt.

Oh mum,I was on my way home to share a feeling I found unusual. Marshal,my only brother,may he not take to drugs like the other guys in the hood.

Why did I do this? Why did I die? I wish I can cry,because when I was alive  it made burdens light. But I can scream right,will anyone hear me? What would I say? I’ll call for my grandma’s aid…Grandma!!! I yelled then I felt water on my face. She yelled back n said what?! Then I opened my eyes,oh God,I’m alive. It was a dream! My death was lie!


My Art

My Art
Colours I breathe, I see, I love, I want
Patterns and shapes that inspire my being.
Whimsical I am when I see my art in the purest form.
My spirit sings like the early morning birds with every picture perfect look that stares me right in the eye.
My body screams with every perfectly contoured crease and cheeks.
My soul smiles with every carefully pouty lip, divinely shaped.
Beautiful, flawless, unforgettable  skin like it was dipped in honey and gold.
Now my heart weeps, why why why don’t you understand my art?
You pretend you do, but u have no idea
A disease that eats your deep inside
And pride!!!!!!
a virus that runs through your body
The two together? Deadly.
My heart weeps again and again cos my art suffers in the hands of you.
What keeps me going?
Passion!!!!! Love!!!! For my ART


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My Words, My Thoughts, My Life, My Friends, My Work, My imaginations

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.