tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52855871671585351692024-03-12T16:17:11.091-07:00MEWhatever you want to call ME.mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-86908261558058468072015-02-26T03:52:00.001-08:002015-02-26T03:55:07.629-08:00Teaser<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">He
wore tights. He really wore tights. </span><br />
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">She
was unsure if she was supposed to be impressed by this or the many other
mundane things he’s been saying to her. She wanted to tell him how this was a
total waste of time and there was no plausible reason she would even agree to
see him. But you know that force of nature? Or is it just how it happens? It
was more like she didn’t care; she just didn’t stop talking to him. A bit of a
welcome distraction? Maybe? </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">He
was relentless. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">And
tiring. At the same time. She knew he was staring at a road with an obvious
dead end, wasted energy he could be expending on another potential, on another
road that might just lead him to where he wanted to be, but instead she was
enjoying one of the many temptations she so desperately did not care for. She
assumed he had one of those mundane reasons for talking her up. Chief amongst
them, obviously was the sex. She was sure, almost absolutely sure that she
wasn’t a top ten prospect and she wondered why he was even trying. But then,
she didn’t stop replying. Every sentence seemed to elicit a reply. It was like
a game of miniature chess. One, desperately probing. The other, tactfully
dodging. Sometimes, her own thoughts seemed to confuse her. She wasn’t sure if
she just wanted to fuck him, or just enjoy the thrill of the game. Or just be
entertained. Sit down and be amused. All day. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">All
night?</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;">Because,
you know, sometimes, the sex can be amusing. On top of you. Huffing and
puffing. And then you have to respond to the lowly thrusts and the need for a
fair settlement by responding with fake moans and shit. Hilarity. Or just take
the best of the amusement and run? Or like how when you respond with sounds and
he takes it as a cue to go faster? No, fucker, I’m moaning because I like what
you’re doing. Now. Currently. Keep doing it. Obvious science. But the male
psyche is intrinsically foolish and amusing, and she knew she’d have to deal
with it. Sometimes, she wished he’d cut the crap talk and tell her what he
wanted to do to her. Sure, the crap talk was slowly morphing into more than
crap, but the slowness of the whole story line was itchy. He’d sent her
flowers, and she decided to meet him. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">When he
met her, they were both drunk He walked towards her, his gait</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> slow and steady, unsure in it's approach, yet
familiar and confident in the same sense.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> Was it
the crap talk? Funny how crap talk can make you seen like you know someone.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> He had been here before, she knew his type,
she had </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">heard stories about his type</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">,</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> looking for one quick stop
over before their next conquest. Y</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">et this history </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">wasn’t going to stop her from what</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> she wa</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">nted to
do, it only served to spur her on. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">She watched him, curiosity had built up this moment to be greater than
it needed to be, he had confirmed her original prognosis of his character, and
the satisfaction left a tingling sensation down her back. It might've been the
liquor laced hopping in her cranium</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> and maybe her chest</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> creating those physical impressions, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">but she
felt in control. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">But,
was she just fucking this one? Or was he the one fucking her? She closed her</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> eyes
and tilted her head back, allowing him to see a nice portion of her chest. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">Nonchalance would win this battle, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">most men
a</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">re hilarious in their
predictability, and that was the only true power she had over all. But was this
a battle? Why did it have to be a battle? Was it her penchant for pulling
things apart and putting them together again? She mu</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">rmured,
eyes low, peering at his</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> brown skin, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">mentally chasing kisses up and down his neck</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">His lips were moving, but she hadn't heard a
word he had said, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">and </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">he looked at her expectantly as if awaiting a reply.</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">“I wasn't listening</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">”</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“You’re
drunk?”</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“No.
I’ve had just one bottle.”</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">“Of?”</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">His
accent was amusing. Not sure of how it happened, but l</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">ight kisses replaced words. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">His hands clutched the back of her neck,
drawing his mouth to hers and</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> she felt
the blood rush to the tips of her fingers. </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">He moved his lips down the
right side of her neck, and </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">she threw
her head </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">back and
thought, this was not miniature chess</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">.
She would run. She caught her breath as his warm tongue caressed her already
erect nipple. He looked into her eyes, </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">and she saw a flicker of
exultation. He ran</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> his hands through her
hair. He played with her left ear, grinding his waist unto her already liquid
middle. She parted her legs and wrapped them around his back. His already stiff
maleness brushed against her sex.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> </span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;">As he
traced out a pattern down from her t</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">hroat to in between her breasts with his lips,
she felt his</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> pulse pick up.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> Or was it her pulse?</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> The touch from his tongue was so fucking
light, she almost pressed her body against his tongue. He never really went
straight for her breast, like most men do, he merely skirted around it, almost
teasing, almost annoying. Flirting.</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;"> </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Like
chess. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Never
going straight. Moving in circles. Round her recently shaven sex. The prickly
sensation combined with the roll of his tongue around her nipple created a
lumpness in her throat, a lumpness she decided would never show in her eyes. Or
escape through her mouth. Her core melted as his tongue followed a pattern against
the same prickly hairs. Lightly touching on the tip of her sex, she gave away a
tell tale shudder. She felt him smile, even though she could not see his face
and she almost laughed at the hilarity of it all. He had smiled against her sex
and she knew it. Without seeing his face. Combining the wetness of his mouth
with the already liquid space between her legs, she arched her back against his
mouth. She would let him win this one. Afterall, it was chess. </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Small
Losses, Big Victories.</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri;"> </span></div>
<br /><br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
<br /></div>
mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com1Dundee, Dundee City, UK56.462018 -2.970721000000025956.321713 -3.2934445000000259 56.602323 -2.647997500000026tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-69983851394226346262012-02-07T18:21:00.001-08:002012-02-07T18:21:47.784-08:007/02/12Hi.<br /><br />I’m smiling. Or am I? Its been long. A million, no a gazillion thoughts swirl in my head, as I attempt to type. I’m sitting in a church, and a smile is stretched across my face as I think of the epic contradictions that are taking place. A house of worship, or is supposed to be, me and unbeliever sitting and typing blasphemy with my fingers and mind… the beclouding contradictions serve as a sort of high. What have I been up to? Besides getting bored by my lecturers lifting whole copied class notes off the internet, Elle Varner and Amy Winehouse’s voices competing for their space in my heart, welcoming my cousin to live in our home.. Its been a joy ride. Full of questioning, thinking, and the journey. And oh, I’ve had nigga’s sending me stuff to edit. Keep making a bruh feel like a G.<br /><br />Swag.<br /><br />So. I have mad respect for someone who can see past my stupidity into the depths of my being. That means we're of like minds. I'm all about like minds, about souls of the same nature. Not even on a romantic tip, on a human being tip, those type of people are trust worthy, those are the type of people you can learn from, the type that won't lead you in the lair of bullshit. I don't like to mess with that lair. It's not really my cup of joe. So I was going through my old facebook pictures, a year can make a very large difference, growing up and then realizing you've grown up are completely different sensations you know? It's scary, going back to the same place, but knowing that you're a completely different person. I'm not gonna feel the same way I did about things a year ago, I've seen a lot, I've learnt a lot. Still, some parts are hard to wean off. You know, I desire levity yet emit a degree of severity. I want more levity despite my severity. I am a puzzle I cannot solve. Confused? You’re welcome to try. In actual fact, I’m plagued by this fact. That many people flippantly claim to know me when I’m not quite sure I know myself? Is there something I’m not seeing? <br />I try to follow my heart, to follow my own compass. At the same time, I try not to follow blindly, but pay a very close attention to where this heart of mine is leading me… I fucking like to question everything. Even my heart. Even the best of intentions. Of myself. Or everyone. I’ve come to see that behind even the best laid intentions, there is always a silver lining of selfishness, or drooping slivers of dripping hate. Its tepidly amusing eh? Every day, I wonder if I’ve reached that infernal point of no return, when I will find myself staring at the abyss, and triumphantly dive in… All I feel now is the sagacity that is my life in this period that will hereafter be known as the “yearning years”… I think I’ve lost all sense of good and evil, I mostly feel like good and evil is fused into one and that in every supposed evil, we can find the utmost good, and in every pure deed the most diligent dealings of evil. Black and White is boring. Gray is Key.<br /> <br />I’m ranting. <br /><br />I'm not sorry.<br /><br />So I've been in school for about 1 month now and unlike my last real semester here I have been as serious as possible, my entire life has been about work, school and "her" because I am trying to build a future. I rarely go out, I mind my own business and I keep to myself, completely out of the lime light, that's if you don't count the working and the writing, but at the same time that falls in line with my career so I cannot be judged because of that. <br />I have been a relatively good boy, a freaking monk some might say, at least compared to what I could be doing, at least compared to what most of YOU are doing. I’ve missed twitter too. Basically because I missed the epic “wisdom” that would have shone forth during the Fuel Subsidy issue. Haha. I can imagine. And per usual, I had an opininon, not necessarily about the fuel issue, but about the crap and totally bullshitty idea this is (was) “Occupy Nigeria” and the whole “Youth Awakening” bullcrap. See, I detest bandwagon activism more than anything in the world. You see peeps chatting about eating pussy 5 minutes ago, and in the same breath talk about a great Nigeria. Seems blatantly obtuse to me. These same folks don't have the depth and understanding to articulate a balance between Western Idealism versus reality versus private interests' influence on the democratic system, as well as the inherent tensions between a true democracy and a representative republic political structure. This is the problem with activism. How can people who have never studied about petroleum economics, have a tinge of understanding about the laws that guide the NNPC, have never really sat down to study the intricacies of Nigerian Politics try to even have any opinion on the Internet. Enthusiasm is not enough. <br /><br />People who want to change the system don't understand the system, what they are fighting for, or against. The majority of the country has more interest in Occupying bullshit, than fighting the people bankers and brokers who really Occupy Nigeria. Our stupidity was on display for the world to see. If you want to come to the table and have a grown up discussion, you have to do the grown up thing and do research and find facts and understand the issues being brought to the table. Otherwise, shut up when grown folks are talking. The uninformed might bring popular attention and focus to the issue quickly, but does this change the plans of the government or their motivations? The biggest lies are the ones we tell ourselves, and the powers that be see just how uninformed, ignorant and disorganized the opposition is. Like the pop saying? The only thing that history teaches us is that we never learn from it. <br />Narrow bands of ideology are almost impossible to sustain, because they require intense energy to sustain. If you ever put up Occupy Nigeria as your status, I’m talking to you.<br /><br />Who’s laughing now? The funniest part is you don’t even know the answer to this.<br /><br />Fin.mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-32918552344417210142012-01-01T21:29:00.000-08:002012-01-01T21:32:37.674-08:00January, 2012.I’m on the verge of writing another BlogPost. My finger’s twitch. I think I just received the biggest testament to love? The rate at which my heart races at this moment, I fear for my life. However, Its morning, I’m awake, my threadbare soul has been assuaged by a particular soul. A soul with whom I lost contact for less than 20 hours, during which I just went through the motions…A soul you’ll soon come to meet. <br /><br />Sooooo. How are you guys? I’m so fucking self centered, I rarely ask you guys how you’re doing. <br /><br />I’ve missed waking up so early, listening to the clikety-clack of the keyboard as I stroke the hell out of it. I’m sipping on coffee, with which I’ve pummeled with so much sugar, I’m only too sure its lost its vibrancy. I’m smiling tho. I can’t be bothered, you know? Its 2012. And oh, Happy New Year. And while most think this is the beginning of the end of the world, this, my dear friends is the beginning of my own world… 2011 inasmuch as it was exciting, was a bit tiring, but here I am, just peeking at the summit of my youthfulness, I zooming beyond all stagnation, hustling my way to the fucking top and leaving all the fuckery in my wake.<br /><br />I finally quit twitter. And, no, me quitting isn’t the huge crate of self-discipline I was hoping to buy, you know, there are several other steps which must be taken in the search of what I seek. I know this full well, and the sacrifices I would have to make, well, would include some you who read this. Now, the question isn’t… Is there life after twitter? The question is… Was there life on twitter?<br /><br />Of course, one must define life to answer that question. <br /><br />Honestly. And so… the journey begins.<br /><br />And yeah, that was a rhetoric. What does life consist of? What does your life consist of? I’ve begun to read the Book of the Preacher, (that’s the book of Ecclesiastes), and would suggest that you do to. Regardless of the fact that I do not practice any religion, there are undeniable truths everywhere. On the street, on each other’s faces? Why can’t we all just stop and look at each other? This is another important life-lesson that has come to me in the past few hours…. It’s a lesson I buried, but have recently dug up.<br /><br />I remember a film I watched. I’ll never forget that film. I cannot remember its title, sadly. At first, the sweet amateur production full of mediocre actors made me shudder with disgust. The first part of the movie was unbearably boring. I thought to myself that this was the worst movie I had ever seen. There was barely a plot to speak of and it moved so slowly I had to fight to keep myself awake. Then it happened.<br /><br />A character in the movie unexpectedly dies. She spent the next part of the movie sitting on a folding chair while the entire first part was reacted. The difference though was that during the second act of the first part the audience hears her thoughts. Her “spirit” is speaking to her past self. It took but a moment to realize the significance and almost painful beauty of what I was seeing and hearing. That boring, mundane, little life of a boring, mundane, little existence was so full of unimagined joy and beauty. The problem was that when she was living it she couldn’t see it. She had to die to realize the utter beauty and deep love that surrounded her on a daily basis.<br /><br />Her spirit self is sad and frustrated with how she lived her life. She screams at herself to look at the faces of those she might have loved a little longer, to not let pettiness destroy friendships, to look at the flowers in the garden, not just merely tend to the surrounding weeds. I almost cried throughout the second act because I was that woman sitting on the folding chair. It forced me see my life through different eyes. <br /><br />Appreciative eyes always see things differently. <br /><br />Boredom only exists if we let it. Every moment has something of value if we allow ourselves to sit on that folding chair and examine our lives. I don’t want to have to die to realize I never should have stood under the night sky and not taken the time to look up at all its wonder. I don’t want to have to die to realize I should have loved the people in my life more completely. I don’t want to have to die to realize that every moment I had on earth was to be cherished not squandered. Sunrises deserve to be seen not just read and written about. You’ll never know who’s smiling at you while you’re bent over your phone, tweeting, trying to make virtual people smile at you…The time we lose we can never regain. I know this full well. You know, after twittercide, I’m forced to look back and ask myself some of these… <br /><br />The older I get the more value I find in the words, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” There’s too much beauty to see, too many hands that need to be held, too many shoulders to lend to crying eyes, too many books that need to be read, too many stars to try to count, too many birds to watch dance in the sky, too many faces to make smile. We only get one chance at this thing we call life. Why not choose to make our time on the folding chairs a satisfied one?<br /><br />It’s a new year, and this ride, though will be full of bumps, will also have smooth roads. There will be flowers by the road, the occasional snake crossing the road, the beauty of the mirage, the sunlight that’ll make us squint. I’ll take you on my journey. You know, sometimes the road less traveled has the greatest view. Sometimes it’s shit, but until you take that crazy left turn… you’ll never know. Moral? Is don’t be afraid to get off the road you’re on and travel down another path. I am. Follow me?<br /><br />It just may lead you in the right direction. <br /><br />I’m going to stop writing now because I feel someone smiling over me. <br /><br />Its 03:04:28, January 2, 2012 on this side of the planet. Happy New Year.mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-10672858378098343072011-12-04T20:13:00.000-08:002011-12-04T20:14:06.064-08:00Burning BridgesYou know those times when you so many things to say, and you can only manage to laugh hysterically? This is one of those times. I wonder if sometimes, I get a new, completely different head from time to time, My head feels so different, Im not exactly sure if its still the same thing that was there before. Well, the size is still the same. Sooooo, what the fuck has been going down with y’all? You All Good?<br /><br />I don’t care. <br /><br />In an try out to bring some more width to my life now that is being saturated with a ridiculous amount of ME and about a gazillion different ways to make money. I've simply been "too busy to give a fuck", and that needs to be corrected. 2011 is almost drawing its curtains on me, and its never too late to start moving. Have I moved at all this year? Why is this just dawning on me? Shit. I really never have a plan when I sit to write stuff, but hey, this is my drug, you know? Something like a ritual purge of whatever the fuck is going on inside of me?<br /><br />I graduate in 2012, and as usual steps must be taken in order to keep swimming. You know sometimes, I think it’s never about surviving? You know, like it’s already been given to me, and there’s no need to fight for it? So there. There are a lot of decisions I have to make about my life, decisions with consequences I don't generally support but must be done. But to achieve the things I want to, I might need to do what is unpalatable…. Ultimatums are being brought forward and I'm resentful, cause in honesty, I want to have my cake and eat it too. I’m going to deactivate my twitter at the end of this year. I don’t have the courage yet to hit the deactivate button, and while there are a million and one reasons why I should, the seed has been sown, and a date has been fixed. Introspectively, I think one of the reasons I’m quitting twitter is because it’s too terribly stunting. You know? I saw a tweet: “Will the amount of time you spend tweeting be deducted from your lifespan?” Or as my mind did interpret it, will the amount of time you spend checking up on peoples’ lives and trying to impress them be subtracted from your lifespan? I am putting all my energies into tweeting and not actually writing, and feeding my laziness. I love to write, really write. I feel good when I do, and twitter to me was a lovely diversion from accomplishing anything of value. Of relevance. Of substance. Of imperious, staggering, epic proportions – of which I have come to discover I am capable of. At the risk of sounding inane, I do not think popularity on stardom earned on twitter by being hilarious or smart or witty actually translates into physical brilliance. Delusion is a bastard in that it runs high and clouds the brain of reason. Everyone wants to be RTed these days, everyone wants to be a star. Remember that stars are just explosions of gas. Don’t breathe in that gas too much, or it will make you believe you can rival the sun. Having said that, some people might make a career out of what started as a simple twitter account, and I wish everyone searching for that ends up satisfied. Ill close in January, and be back when I cop that degree? Or when I’m gonna be begged to be back? By Twitter itself? But whenever, it’s a lifetime away. Speaking of lifetimes, I plan to enjoy this ride, and so should you, I hope you enjoy yours and the people in them. Make time for them like you make time for twitter, after all, they are the ones with arms to hold, and laughter to actually hear…<br /><br />But you know, it’s not all about twitter. A lot of changes need to be made, a lot of sacrifices need to be offered up. A lot of bridges need to be burned, and a lot of rafts to be nailed together. If this river will be swum successfully, with all the crocodiles in it, a lot needs to be done. I have given up on a lot of things, and will give up on a whole lot too. Slowly and surely, I will. Maybe writing about this will give me the impetus to. I'm becoming one of those men I always wanted to be. Those boys in the American sitcoms, with the freedom, the style, the attitude and it's just so strange how naturally it came, and the uncanny ability to be in really cool places at really cool times, without really caring. I've achieved the perfect level on nonchalance. Doing what I want to, when I can, from the perfect hardboy, to the unknown struggler for the good life? Haha. Your confusion drives me more than anything else, your inability to understand why I can disparage sex, why I starve myself of stuff – just to go back to it again?, why I'm so terribly mentally attractive with an underlying tone of repulsiveness? WIN.<br /><br />Its morning. I’m off to study. There is still so much more to be said, so much more to say, so much more to dream. And in as much as I hate waking up in the morning, the promise of it being a better day, time to take out the junk of yesterday and the things that make me sad. It’s a new day. <br /><br />Create some good within yourself and the earth will do its job of distributing it accordingly.<br /><br />There are a lot of things in my life right now that have the potential to destroy it. But an equal number of things that could have the exact opposite effect. It's the intentions of my heart and the truth of my soul that will keep me on the good side. Life isn’t short. But life goes by faster than you can imagine, and is filled with pain and suffering, so, slow down and enjoy the little chunks’ of happiness you can find along the way. Don’t judge anyone, because at the end of the day, you always have to clean your own shit. In the end, I realized that a whole lotta things where becoming more important than ME in my OWN life, as selfish as it may sound. You are the only constant natural factor in this life so therefore you are the most important person in your world. See why you cannot love? Or why your 'loving' is easy? Because you’re not even the most important person in your own life… So any who comes is just another of those important things…? <br /><br />Right back at the top. <br /><br />My mum said something yesterday, yeah? “Femi, you’ll be 27 in five years”. Where the fuck did all the time go? Life is not short. <br /><br />Don't be afraid of discomfort, especially if it turns out be lucrative. You have to have a balance you know? Nothing worthwhile comes without work, nothing real, nothing lasting comes without difficulties. <br /><br />May the hand of a friend be near, and the heart of the one who loves you, be true. Better still, may they be one and the same.<br /><br />Christmas comes for me in 4 days. <br /><br />And the sun be warm around your neck…. (No Pun Intended). (If you live in Africa Only).<br /><br />Amen.mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-55409370290883760932011-10-06T14:12:00.000-07:002011-10-06T14:17:03.907-07:00Thursday, October 6.I’m lying on my bed, balls up, like a G.<br /><br />Its raining.<br /><br />And the pitter patter of the rain around my room matches the beating of my heart which, oddly, has given me a bit of impetus to stand up and open my computer. All is well in my world once more, the last few months have been less calamitous, and frankly a little boring, but do I wish for calamitous days to return? I do not know. All I wish for nowadays, is to lie down and read. Fill my brain with information, facts, true and untrue, proven and unproven. Or sometimes, just lie down ….. And exist. And talk? BBM? I have promised myself to write a new story, (I did promise myself this about two months ago) and I will. But the thought process and events required for this to take place have been sort of far removed from the person that I am right now. <br /><br />What shall I say tho? I’m bursting full of thoughts and things to expose, I’m not sure where to start. In fact, I’m so filled up, I’m stumped. But I’m used to it, and if you’re used to me, you’ll know that it’s the randomest of events that lead me to share my thoughts…<br /><br />My life has been hard. My childhood was hard. The only outwardly easy part was so pseudo that even pseudo defeats the intent of using pseudo for that period. I’ve always been enthralled with hard. Which is why, coming to think of it, anything that is easy scares the fuck outta me. Anything easy, anything perfect, puts me the fuck off. So if you want to tell me a the truth, even the most perfect of “truths” will not appeal to me. Maybe that’s why I so blatantly reject the idea of a perfect and easy Jehovah? I do not know. But still, I digress. I have met so many people in the past few months, not on a platonic level, and not on a sexual level either, more like on a personal level and as usual, has led me to the discovery of so many unheeded yet important facts, which must be recorded later. Chief of which is the humbling discovery that I might have been wrong in one of my assertions.<br /><br />I was wrong.<br /><br />This is unbelievably astonishing, because I weigh all my words, actions and decisions through and through, even the “on-the-spur” decisions, and most times, I leave no room for mistakes, or willfully and knowingly make mistakes in order to make the ride less boring… But on this I was wrong. Ill start at the beginning. A counselor at a point in my life tried to dispel a dysfunctional belief I had the time of trying to blame everybody else for things which happened to me. I blamed everyone. My mother, my teachers, my friends even the fucking gateman in front of the bank for my woes. I shackled myself in a cage of delusion and proudly wore the key around my neck. I learned, as I have always sought to scream to anyone who cared to listen, that my life is my own fucking drama, I direct it, I do what I will and the universe will respond in accordance. And so, when I discovered that I was bored of and with sex, it seemed ghoulishly absurd to me that I should blame myself in that respect. On what basis? I was bored with it, it wasn’t me who created it, I wasn’t having sex with myself, so why in anyway should I blame ME for it? I brought with it (the boredom with sex) a kind of new found peace, so that I forgot to blame myself for it. My attitude towards the sexual act had become varied. Of course one can claim this as a consequence of growth, which I won't deny, but instead demand to expand upon.<br /><br />Musing, I had asserted, and hold it, it is admitted I did believe this theory to be the most sincere at the time, that I was uninterested because most girls now, sexually, render me completely disinterested. I claimed that, I simply hadn't found anyone to satisfy my mind. To satisfy my body, I will admit to have found but I had found no one to ensure the harmony of both in receiving profuse amounts of pleasure. The fusion? Mind & Body? I claimed I was wanting, not a quickie, but a 12 hour session. <br />But then, as always, the laws of the universe prevail.<br /><br />I was searching for something, something was missing. My ego and persona is what generally enthralls these beings. You know? What they think I am? What they think I can do? They lose their composure, their dignity, any sense of pride when I'm inside of them. Their perception of me, my niceness, my eerie silence, my ability to at least satisfy the very few people I have slept with is what drove the opposite sex wild, my body is what controlled all discernment. They knew nothing about me, they only knew what I felt like or what they thought I felt like and that was more than enough for them to hand me their strings. I, my soul that is, had little to do and found my actions monotonous, repetitious and inevitably, at long last, boring. I received the same compliments, the same journey to obsession on their part, it was basically scripted and my mind had memorized it all. See, I've had a lot of meaningless sex. Meaningless to me that is. Inconsequential for me, best I ever had for them. Imagine. They believed what I perceived as mediocrity, excellence. And I began to seek, to seek for an aware soul. For someone to the nakedness that is ME, to connect and fuse. But now, I'm not asking for them to change at all. I'm not even asking, for an aware soul, I'm not asking for a deeper connection, because asking for any of those things would imply that the problem is outside of myself.<br /><br />I was bored, because my mind demanded a challenge, a greater challenge. The chase used to be over in a matter of minutes, what used to enthrall you completely, now, disgusts. I have grown and been forced to demand more of myself in almost every aspect of my life, so it is only logical that this should reflect in my relations with the opposite sex. This method being, whereas, watching the face of a girl I was driving insane with a few soft touches and feeding on the moist cavity that is between her legs, driving a girl insane with a simple sentence provides an even larger prey for my gun. (Pun Unintended).<br /><br />The physical is too easy, that's all there is to it.<br /><br />So there it is, that is why, the real reason why, I honestly do not ever feel like taking my clothes off to have sex anymore. I am sexually dissatisfied because I demand a harder drug than just sex.<br /><br />I demand love.<br /><br />The ability to love so wantonly that I do not have to do anything to arouse your interest? I want to make a girl feel eternal just by brushing my fingertips against the back of her neck, if that simple action, laden with copious amounts of love can warm your entire body, then what will all of me do? What will you do when you finally experience all of me? I rarely do the foolish, but I seek to find ‘she’ who will spur me to do the utterly unreasonable and completely stupid without laying with me first? You know, I'm just trying to do it bigger that's all. Naturally, I must evolve, increase and grow stronger. <br /><br />Plain sex, is too easy, there's no real pleasure in it for me anymore. So, in conclusion, I just wanted to clarify myself and let it be known that I'm not fucking because I'm waiting for a turbo XL, custom made, unfettered pussy. No, I'm not fucking, because I want to own your soul. And I want you to own mine.<br /><br />Why? Because it is hard. I love hard. (Again, pun completely unintended, except you mean nipples of course).<br /><br />I flourish in the face of impossible. I expand, evolve and grow, in the face of the unknown. It's not that I'm not sexually attracted to the female body anymore, it's that I'm more sexually attracted to the workings of the female mind. And you know how fucking complex that is? No excuses, lovers are way more fun than fuck buddies. You know, the fun is in the fear? The fear of the fall? Fuck buddying to me right now is like playing a game of darts, and instead of using darts, you hurl “cooked spaghetti” at the dart board? You don’t understand? Never mind. <br /><br />Haha. Well, the process has already begun. I am about a month and a half into it. And I have about four months to go.<br /><br />I don’t have school this semester. Unfettered surroundings, less responsibilities in which to grow, to expand in the face of difficult. <br /><br />The universe speaks. I dare not turn away.<br /><br />And oh, Steve Jobs, you might have been a tad off track. Stay Full (satisfied), Stay Foolish.mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-64901845378574951702011-10-05T19:48:00.001-07:002011-10-05T19:48:26.388-07:00You've got to find what you love.Well, he's dead. I rarely quote out whole speeches a blogpost, but I liked this man. <br /><br />So as a tribute to him, this is one of his best speeches, ever. I hope it speaks to your heart as much as it did to mine.<br /><br />I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.<br /><br />The first story is about connecting the dots.<br /><br />I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?<br /><br />It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.<br /><br />And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.<br /><br />It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:<br /><br />Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.<br /><br />None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.<br /><br />Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.<br /><br />My second story is about love and loss.<br /><br />I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.<br /><br />I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.<br /><br />I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.<br /><br />During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.<br /><br />My third story is about death.<br /><br />When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.<br /><br />Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.<br /><br />About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.<br /><br />I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.<br /><br />This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:<br /><br />No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.<br /><br />Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.<br /><br />When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.<br /><br />Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.<br /><br />Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.<br /><br />Thank you all very much.mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-17049779303570193882011-09-13T22:24:00.001-07:002011-09-13T22:24:26.101-07:00Wednesday, 14th September, 2011So long.<br /><br />I've woken up at all hours of the night today, each time stranger than the last. In between consciousness I envisioned her. Secretly watching me in the darkness clocking in more reasons to fall in love with the creature that is me.<br />"He's crazy" She'll say. "He wakes up in the middle of the night continuously for no reason what so ever" I'll look stubborn and jaded on the other side of the couch….<br /><br />Mutual understanding is one of the main factors of a healthy relationship anyways, not looking at each other but looking in the same direction. Of course this is all hypothetical. As are my possible plans for this day. Do I want to show my face on this campus just yet? Strut the earth like Kanye and possibly starve myself in the pursuit of something new and fascinating?<br /><br />Or am I content to just sit here and write, read and wait for my obsession to wake up? Many, many decisions.<br /><br />Babcock encourages a large amount of social impassivity in my person. I have my BU loves, I am in no rush to make any more, I in fact don't care at all to and it's such a shame, but more of a shame because I honestly don't care about the first shame in the first place. It's a cycle of general apathy, that looks quite good on me so I've never particularly been bothered to worry about it.<br />Yesterday, my Dad left with a stern look on his face "Get out of the house" I cocked a smile and replied "I will" Possibly not. It's a Wednesday, and I feel as though I've dreamt about this before, about this specific day, about her words, all of a sudden I'm hit with this huge noncommittal wave of dejavu and it excites me, because I'm pretty sure at the end of said dream I won the lottery and all was well once more in the house of Femi Smith's cranium.<br /><br />It's not as if I don't have anything to do, all I have to do is pick up the phone and VIOLA, booze, drugs and sex. But the fact of the matter is.<br /><br />I can not and will not be bothered.<br /><br />And I would be just as not bothered if I actually partook in some sort of a social activity. The need that drove me before, the need to dance and party, and generally lose my mind in intoxicated disturbia has left me, and I all of a sudden feel quite ancient, and in turn pompous in my growth, like I should be a equipped with a walking and monocle and say things like "Hey there young man” while playing golf, walking stick and monocle dexterously glued to my being as I swing and scream "FETCH" at no one in particular.<br />I would've once had an issue with my doing nothing in the present moment, but I've been doing quite a lot these past couple of months, none of my activities could've been cited as a vacation.<br /> <br />Yes its been summer, blah blah blah, but all of those actions were mentally tasking, difficult in some realm of my life, here I can just lay on my king size bed, stare at the ceiling and just EXIST.<br /><br />Falling in love can be mentally tasking for me. (this is a huge digress moment).<br /><br />I haven't just 'existed' in so long. Thinking about it, we get so concerned about the smaller parts of life, success isn't a job, it's a journey, you should always take time for yourself, for your life, because perhaps if you work to hard and miss those moments now, when that success finally comes you'd find yourself willing to trade in all your hard work and crisp naira bills for just a few precious silent moments of your youth.<br /><br />I greatly enjoy my youth, my speed and my vigor, and I take care of them in these silent moments, as I lay down and reflect, lighting up every atom in my body, thanking the earth and whoever created it for the gift of this day, of this serenity. Maybe its the sight of all these grand old people around me. Who knows?<br /><br />But perhaps that's just the untrained “serious human’ in me, I've always been aware of time constraint, of wasted time, of depression over wasted time. Just existing helps me maintain the strength in my body and in my mind. I close off all bullshit and am content to just BE. I feel lucky to be able to do this, it's something lost on this generation, in the age of multi tasking, everyone is always busy, even when they're not. No one just chills, lays down, TV off, laptop all the way across the room, blackberry so basic there's no point in it even being in the same area as you and just breathes.<br /><br />That's when all the greatest ideas come to me, in those silent moments, that’s when the greatest pictures are painted before me, when my conviction triples in mere moments of blissful tranquility. Especially when you know someone somewhere is thinking about you. <br /><br />So for now, I’ll just chill. Live, Exist.<br /><br />Bask in the Euphoria that has enveloped my life in the past 3 weeks. <br /><br />Grow.<br /><br />Transcend.<br /><br />I start classes next week. And its in less than 4 months.<br /><br />Join me? Get with the picture.<br /><br />May the grass be green under your feet.<br /><3mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-16448554267128401152011-08-04T18:31:00.000-07:002011-08-04T18:34:08.406-07:00A Tale.She had a boyfriend.<br />She honestly, had a boyfriend. <br /><br />She walks around the house, phone in hand, shades on despite the darkness around, already prepared to lie about whatever emotion this turn of events incited, completely ready to fake a smile even though she was incredibly unhappy and instead marvel at the way she could mask her deepest emotions from even herself…<br /><br />She wasn’t sure which route she should take, left or right? Sad or angry? Happy even? Apologetic? Stubborn? Apathetic? She was sure, deeply sure that this wasn’t what it was like…<br /><br />She imagined him in front of her. Far away, about a million miles away, pressing some buttons on his phone instead of looking at her, the same phone she had been calling no less than an hour before.<br /><br />The same call he had ignored. Placid amusement was the perfect way to describe it. Fighting the urge to burst out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation she had placed herself in, she rested her back on the wall, and brought her phone up to her face. The same Him. The same Him she was so ready to fight for. Anywhere, Anyhow. How she was so proud of him, on the outside…<br /><br />Before she had left, they’d had a conversation where he had played the wounded spoilt prince quite brilliantly, acting all injured and hurt as if he hadn’t done anything wrong. But she knew it. And she knew he knew it. And even without saying it aloud, they both knew there was currently a huge gaping hole in their young relationship, and he would go, because she would be there when he got back right? Because she had no idea of what it should be like?<br /><br />And that was what she’d hoped for, to leave, to be far away, to create some sort of urgency within him, some sort of need for her within him that she didn’t see anymore, he had become used to her, so he could leave and come back without a thought to where she would be.<br /><br />She’d become a too predictable.<br /><br />She hoped to be the most important. But she wasn’t.<br /><br />At least that’s what it felt like.<br />Behind all the façade of being the best girlfriend alive, behind all the machoism, was the great abyss. The want. The knowing that it could be so much more than this. Yes, she adored him, she worshipped him…. But maybe because he was her first? Maybe she didn’t know what it really was like?<br />She couldn’t end it. And she knew he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be able to bear it. Would he? She wasn’t sure.<br />She still deeply loved him. And she also knew, she deserved more. A whole lot more than she was getting. <br /><br />Not like she knew what she should be getting. It was painfully annoying. You know you should be getting more, but you don’t know what it is?<br />Maybe she was growing? Getting to know more about her very complex self? Knowing that in the end it would all end up like she’d always wanted it to be? But was what she wanted it to be the best option?<br /><br />Her phone rang. The other guy. The Ibo guy.<br />He was always a welcome distraction. The texts, the calls. The way his voice caressed her when he talked. The way she always inwardly fought the always obvious attraction? <br /><br />And the day they met? The strength of his sexuality startled her. The way he smiled, and seemed to wave away every of her worries with a slight upturn of his lip, the effortless way in which he sucked his lips while watching the movie? She’d ended up catching herself stealing half glances at him. And hell, he seemed to know. He wasn’t exactly a good type of his kind, not particularly what she wanted in any way. But the way he effortlessly made her feel her current relationship was a mess? Of the things she could do to him and he do to her?<br /><br />The most depressing was the way he crushed her pride. Without even him trying to. She held her pride in the highest regard, and tended to repress every other egostical being in her presence. She know she was beautiful, and he knew it. It frustrated her. He put everything she stood for to the test. <br />Was this a test? Or was this the truth? <br />She honestly had a boyfriend she was going to marry, or did she?<br /><br /><br />________________________<br /><br /> <br />He honestly thought she didn’t have a boyfriend.<br /><br />It was so illogical, you know, he automatically knew when he met a “TAKEN” girl. Despite her screaming to the high heavens about how she had a boyfriend she loved and was going to marry, the attraction still remained. It bothered him sometimes, because she wasn’t even his type of girl. Sometimes, he thought that it was all a front? You know, she just wanted a guy to want to break all the boundaries to get her? <br /><br />You know those kind of people who could argue that a plane was actually a flying car? Or that the flag of Nigeria was actually Light Green and not Green. It irritated him to the teeth at times, but she had a smile… That smile that touched his bones… Even if it was looking at her avatar…<br /><br />And besides she had a great ass.<br /><br />Typically, she was female, and naturally, he was attracted to the very sensuality of her being. What made her so appealing was the clash of emotion s he could smell a mile off. The tough, argumentative exterior. He was too sure there was a little girl inside there. <br /><br />Screaming for attention. She thought she was weird. He’d met weird. She wasn’t.<br /><br />He’d tried to ignore her. And keep his age long vow of never getting interested in other men’s property… He knew his charms would work on her. He was damn sure. But then, he was skeptical. She always tended to spring up surprises, absurdly crazy ones at that. He turned the over the paper filled with the list of movies up for the evening. He highly doubted the fact that he’d be able to concentrate on the movie. Whatever movie they’d decide on.<br /><br />She’d come, smiling, as always, making his face light up with an impossibly stupid grin. She wasn’t looking her best tho, and he suspected it was on purpose. Everything happened so fast, next thing he knew, he felt her stare bore a hole in my neck. He refused to look at her. It took all the self control he had, but he had enough. He smiled, letting her know he knew.<br /><br />He placed his free hand on her knee.<br /> <br />She looked at him, and brushed his hand off. <br /><br />He’d expected it. If she’d done otherwise, he’d have been shocked. Immediately, he faced her, and put his right hand around her shoulder. He stared at her, her face flushed, he could almost feel the turmoil in her mind…<br /><br />He laughed a genuine laugh. A very genuine laugh. <br />She looked at him. Why are you laughing?<br /><br />Nothing.<br /><br />Yet, she settled into his arm nicely, in a friendly yet asexual way. He could sense the fight. He wouldn’t push it.<br /><br />She wasn’t something he’d do in two days. Or two weeks. He planned to enjoy the thrill. It would be worth it.<br /> <br />She would be worth it. Why? <br /><br />Because now, he honestly knew, She had a boyfriend.mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-62752413767312654642011-07-31T02:32:00.000-07:002011-07-31T02:33:36.720-07:0031/07/2011Because the river is still does not mean there are no crocodiles.<br /><br />It’s totally well and zen in my world once again… Or looks totally well.<br /><br />A little stirring of the water would reveal a lot. I’ve been lonely. To say the least, and every effort at physical human interaction has failed, and all I am left with is my phone? Which is sometimes overwhelming when everyone wants to talk to me at the same time? How do some of you cope?<br /><br />In my lonesome times, I grow, I develop, rapidly. And I discovered something. There is an actual difference in realizing that there is actually no floor beneath your feet, and flying. You know? Actually, Im hella confused of actually what to write about, as I have been fitfully lazy, and have too many thoughts running in my head…<br /><br />I'm all about a better world, you know? <br />When you create an atmosphere that can better produce and maintain such purity your harvested energy will multiply ten fold and sow seeds in your life. Seeds that'll grow into big ass trees with some big ass fruit your now happy ass self can enjoy for the rest of your days. And so how do you create such an atmosphere?<br /><br />Honesty.<br /><br />With everyone of course, but most importantly and more vitally with yourself. You know why? Because its your life. No ones life but your own. Seen with your eyes, heard with your ears, smelled with your nose and understood on your terms and conditions. As selfish as it may sound. You are the only constant natural factor in this life so therefore you are the most important person in your world.<br /><br />In my world, I see myself as the center. With everyone and anyone either a willing or unwilling observer, to whom must be satisfied with either the complexities or plainness of my life? I don’t hide under the façade of anything. I’m poor. I’m short, I’m ugly, I might be stupid at times. I also can be brutally honest, sweet et al. You decide if I keep you in my circle. If you choose to see the negatives, I’ll show you the fucking way out. But if you see the positives, I’ll stick by you till you decide to show me the fuck out.<br /><br />Now what does dishonesty to one’s self do to a person? Any person? It slowly destroys the bitch out of that person.<br /><br />If you have to lie to everything and everyone on this planet so be it. But never lie to you.<br /><br />I am bored, not because of the obvious lack of physical interaction, but because everything else ceases to amaze me? My mind demands a challenge. I hate to be conquered all too easy and quick, you know? Like having sex with someone you’d dreamed about for a long time, and then finally doing so, then finding then completely and utterly annoying? I have grown to demand more of myself in almost every aspect of my life, and it is only logical that this should affect my completeness. And see, that why I’ve not had sex in aeons? Because, I can’t just fuck now. Because, honestly, I’ve fucked everything I wanted to fuck. I’ve accomplished everything I wanted to accomplish sexually, physically. And so, I you can fuck me from a distance, not at all having seen me, and you fuck me? Keep me interested? Wanting you? You can have me for the rest of your life.<br /><br />And that is why, If I’ve cut you out of my life, you should know the reason why. You bore me. You’ve ceased to stimulate me, and when you begin to bore me, things begin to spiral out of control. Fast. Its all for a better tomorrow, see? You spend your days with a frown on your face, bitching on and on on twitter about your disdain for the ways of others, completely focused on the unimportant, trying to be sarcastic and shit…. While you do not know that you’ve zoomed past the line of importance and have become just like a clanging church bell? Or you’re still in the dark? Behaving like you know it all? Being inwardly bored and sad? And hiding by pretending all is well? Being all prude and shit because you want someone, somewhere to be happy? What of you? Does your heart smile? Are you being honest to your own happiness? <br /><br />Sometimes, I feel sorry for the people around me, for having to deal with all my eccentrics. But think of it this way? Maybe my crazy seems crazy because you’re boring?<br /> <br />Loose yourself. Determine to do whatever. Whatever you *want* to do to make you happy. *have*<br /><br />To make you smile, inwardly.<br /><br />And then, when the intentions of your heart match the intentions of mine, all is well once again.<br /><br />See the cattle herd mentality that now pervades the Nigerian Twitter community? It was a matter of time. <br /><br />The wheat will always be separated from the tares. <br /><br />Just wait for the harvest.<br /><br />Your outward smile does nothing for me. Let your heart smile.<br /><br />And yeah, Don’t think there are no crocodiles because the water is calm.mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-6127130448207908732011-07-11T10:51:00.000-07:002011-07-11T10:52:55.026-07:00As I Study.<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; ">I’m supposed to be studying. It’s 12:45am. I just came out of a big convo with the Dad, and I’m a bit on the edge now, but I’m not angry, just slightly amused. I might have let the steam loose with someone, but I’m on a BBM fast for a while, so here goes.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">So I've been in school for about 6 weeks now and unlike my last semester I have been as serious as possible, my entire life has been about work, school and a few special persons on BBM. I rarely go out, I mind my own business and I keep to myself, completely out of the lime light, that's if you don't count the working and the writing, but at the same time that falls in line with my career so I cannot be judged because of that. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I have been a relatively good boy, a freaking monk some might say, at least compared to what I could be doing, at least compared to what most of YOU are doing. But despite all this. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">People still find something to say about me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">The funny aspect is that in freaking reality, I’m just not anything you should worry about.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And I get that, it's Babcock, you people have nothing else to do but talk, I feel for you, I do BUT, if you're going to spread malicious rumors about me, even go as far as contacting an ex-girlfriend to share them in hopes of creating some sort of problem.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">At least come up with something original, something juicy, and something worth my aggravation.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">In the past 3 weeks, I’ve been accused of taking part in an armed robbery and sleeping with a close friend’s girlfriend. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Now, I have a “best” friend girl, and she also plays the role of my mother and sister when the situation calls for it, and because I never fight with her, because I refuse to stab her in the back, because I defend her when I hear slander, and because she spends time with me in the house alone.... then, I MUST be sleeping with her?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Must you corrupt everything?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I don't understand this. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Continue to slander me if you must, there is no such thing as bad publicity in this point of time in my life. Keep talking, it'll just get me more writing contracts, twitter follows etc but if you must talk, if you must fucking talk...-<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">At least come up with something worth my time.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And most of the people who spend so much time talking about the life and times Babafemi Smith have NEVER met or talked to me in person for more than 5 minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And Armed Robbery? For real??? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">It's just so pathetic. And you don't even realize it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Pathetic and incredibly sad.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Do you understand what I am trying to say?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">When you spread rumors, in a way you are lying, therefore creating the most negative energy possible for yourself and your future, you fuck yourselves up without even realizing and because you've sown the seed of fuckery everything you touch will crumble, you'll find far too much unproductive free time on your hands and you'll continue to gossip, while the people you go on about transcend you in ways you couldn't ever have imagined for yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Now do you understand what I'm trying to say?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">If not, just please create some better stories about me ok?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I’m actually studying, and it feels incredibly new. I can truthfully say this is the first time I’m studying for any exam at all in my University life, and It feels good to work on something new. After all that seems to be what my entire life is about right now, the pursuit of "new", perhaps I shouldn't generalize it so, I mean on average I can be satisfied by the simplest of means, perhaps I meant to say is that I am on the hunt for something "new" in my percentage of human interaction. I'm always fucking with this person or that person, with no malicious intent of course, simply out of pure boredom. Human beings are the most dazzling of puzzles one can amuse one’s self with. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And I've always loved puzzles. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I'm going to write about all my exploits, it needs to be recorded before it is forgotten. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Moping achieves absolutely nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I don't know why niggas keep on employing the use of it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I'm Babafemi, I'm cosmopolitan, I'm determined to give myself everything I deserve, I won't lose, I won't let anyone win, all I have to do is ask and it will be mine, I understand that small part of this gigantic world, I understand that part of my soul. Ask and it shall be given. The age old tale of success within one’s self. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">There's not really a lot to say once you've said that.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Stuff’s been going on here and there, and I find myself just standing and watching as it all flows around me. Like in those speed shots where the world is buzzing and this one human being is just standing there staring. I've become easily detachable, easily bored and more unwilling to invest in other human beings emotionally. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">It's simply nothing new to me, same book different cover. This one cat said there's something Hitler-ish about me, it's probably the attitude. I've discovered that since I'm so ME... I can get away with saying a lot, a lot meaning the truth. I took it as a compliment. Well, yeah.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I'm becoming one of those men I always wanted to be. Those boys in the American sitcoms, with the freedom, the style, the attitude and it's just so strange how naturally it came, and the uncanny ability to be in really cool places at really cool times, without really caring. I've achieved the perfect level on nonchalance. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I met a few “tweeps” in the library the other day, and I was fucking amazed at the impression they had of me. Just because I write in a manner don’t mean I can’t chat shit and be down to earth. At the end of the day you're all human beings just like I am so I don't give a fuck who you are, Femi will always be Femi ya get me? I'm too down to earth man. I’ve made mistakes. I make the occasional grammatical errors every now or then, and one of those errors being allowing my stupidity to un-focus me from what I am in Uni to do. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">So I can have my life, but you're still aware of my existence. Just be aware. Know that yes, guys like me have survived the mass cultural cattle take over and hold fast to my intelligence. I’m not going to get less than B’s in any course this sem. Under the marijuana haze, my sick mind is still brilliant. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Because yeah I'm tough, it's something my mind is learning to exploit, it's like a new toy. Before it was just there you know, I wasn't really sure if I was and I didn't really care. I thought about other things writing, hollywood, fashion, drugs and music, philosophy, history, Art, Football Manager and Age of Empires. And oh, It isn’t really a new toy. I had a scholarship almost throughout my high school<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I haven't had successful sex in like 800 years. It'll be the icing on the cake when I finally get some damn ass. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Too many niggas and not enough hoes. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I need to go back to reading. It’s a bit discomfiting, to say the least, but yeah. But I’ve learned not to be afraid of discomfort. Don't be afraid of discomfort; especially if it turns out be lucrative. You have to have a balance you know? Nothing worthwhile comes without work, nothing real, nothing lasting comes without difficulties.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Funny enough... I miss you. But I'm gonna be strong. Cause I want nothing but honesty. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Thank Him for today, tomorrow and yesterday. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Especially tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-89937815310954139402011-07-04T21:38:00.000-07:002011-07-04T22:16:37.879-07:00Tuesday, July 5, 2011. 06.10am<p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px; "></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; "></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"></span></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">Except for a few bits and pieces of trimmed out excitement here and there, I’ve been so bored, I’ve been virtually unable to write anything sensible. It’s like I have to make sense and its stunting me. And oh, except for the music. But do I really have to make sense? Doesn’t not making sense make sense once in a while?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span"> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I wake up in the morning, thinking. Wake up? I’m not sure that’s even true, because I don’t even sleep when the sun comes down. Its like someone else is evolving from within me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">Quietly. Gently. Slowly. Dancing to the music. Smirking. Chuckling. Maturing. Making me miserable. And overly-fucking-deep.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I think every decision I make now through and through. And for the first time in my life, I’m realizing how lonely I am. How butt lonely. Not the lonely you think. How mainly I can’t bring myself down the level of some peeps to actually have a mind fuck with them. I mean, what’s the point? Yeah, A little bummed about the lack of romance in my life, I need someone to vibe with, nibbling ears and soft kisses and lots of laughter. And mind fucking. I really would not mind that one bit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">But herein lies the deepest shit. I have so much distrust in love, I hate it. If I like you nowadays, I’d rather not show it for fear of losing you. So there. Since I cannot love an earthling. I have now therefore transferred that love to life. I’m a hopeless romantic, I know, but now, it’s just life I love. I'm simply in love with all the possibilities of life. Every sordid avenue, every delicious turn, and the long list of loves I'll peruse with such pride in years to come. I'll love some of the greatest “things” on this planet. I have to.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">But again, my biography has taken an acute turn in the past few months, another chapter has been added, which I presume might be the saddest chapter of all…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">And, I still haven’t broken down The Wall. "The Wall": A term coined by a friend to describe my brilliant ability to switch off when I don't want to acknowledge painful emotions. I have to learn how to face these things, instead of just disconnecting. I'm rarely ever unhappy, and when I am unhappy, I start to resent the cause of this unhappiness and my first instinct is to shut off.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I don't need to yell, I don't want to be angry.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I just want silence.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I ignore it, and move on. It seems healthy, but trust me it's not. At least not for other people. I don't like to acknowledge negative emotions in my life, and it actually is disturbing how easy it is for me to shut off once I've been hurt. It stems from childhood, I went through some painfully tragic events as a child, but I ignored it, I shut them out. I don't keep it to just emotions anymore, now it's people, I shut out people, people who don't really deserve to be left out in the cold but there is no inclination for me to open up communication again. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 12px; ">I simply don't want to, I know I have to, our society says it's the right thing to do. But right and wrong in the realm of human interactions is an extremely grey area, never black and white. There are millions of us on this planet, perhaps we're all interchangeable.</span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 12px; "><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I can't keep running away though, I'll have to face it all one day. All the emotions, all the unshed tears.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I travel again on the 20th, I have to use the time in between to update the journal. But there's just so much that has happened, so much to go over, this is going to take so much time, and resurfacing all those memories could complicate things in my head, complicate them more I should say.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">But it must be done. I say this begrudgingly of course. I treasure my secrets, especially after living in a place like my home, my secrets are worth more than all the cash in the world to me. I'm actually an incredibly private person, I show you the skeleton of my life, there is no muscle mass, no organs, not even an epidermis, just the skeleton. And once you see my skeleton, I’m connected to you in a way you can never adequately fathom. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">Everything else is too valuable to share, I'd rather they speculate and choke on their gossip.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">"Sometimes silence is the best answer".<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">My father says that to me a lot...my father... I discovered something. He's really proud of me you know? More and more he talks about my future, saying things like "You're going somewhere great", do you know what that feels like? To have the one person who means the world to you have so much faith in you after you've fucked up so many times? I used to think he wanted to replace me with a younger, more "Christian" cousin of mine, or my younger bro, but that was spawned from lakes of self hate though. We had our differences you know? I was a wild child, I still am, but he has always loved me, and I took that for granted. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 12px; ">Still am.</span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 12px; "><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I just want to make him proud. And the fact that I haven't really gone anywhere, but he feels it all the same, brings tears to my eyes. I might be a daddy's boy through and through. He helped mold me, the kindest man in the world, the purest energy I can ever receive. I'll accomplish great things because of the faith he has in me. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 12px; ">I pray my children feel this way about me, and about their mother, whoever she might be. I hope I can be at least half of the man he is in my future children's lives.</span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 12px; "><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">“Procrastination is the hoe, and Twitter is it's pimp."<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">I don’t fucks with ugly delusional hoes anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">Quote me bitch.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">Be thankful for today, yesterday and tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="margin:0in;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:18.0pt"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;color:#333333">Peace & Blessings.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></p></span><p></p><span class="Apple-style-span"> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:9.0pt;line-height:115%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p></p></span><p></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-50885457232625856452011-05-24T10:22:00.000-07:002011-05-24T10:24:50.134-07:00Am I ME?<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Silence.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">All is silent around me, albeit grim. I’m shutting myself from the mainstream world for a few more days. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">What do I want to say?</span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";color:#333333"><br /><br /><span class="apple-style-span">Is there anything to say?</span><br /><br /><span class="apple-style-span">I almost <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>always start off like this. Whining at the threshold of self imposed writers block, convincing myself that there is nothing worthy yet. But how do I know what is worthy to minds outside of mine? I can't say that there is nothing to say because I do have words to express. Thoughts to convey, they do exist, speeches, novels, smokey sex scenes all take precedence in the glistening perversity that is my mind.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";color:#333333">I’ve met so many people virtually these past few days. </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";color:#333333">The fearful. The beautiful. The foolish. The world is full of people really. Oh yeah? And the stupid. But you know, I’d rather talk about what interests me the most. Myself.</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";color:#333333">I’m miserable. I know this for a fact, but I seem to enjoy it. Maybe because of my impending birthday? Or the endless internal turmoil and impending guilt that has overtaken me?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">I started reading Shakespeare again and I am thoroughly enjoying myself. His beautiful and satirical way with words definitely inspires my own rhetoric. I realize that my vernacular changes depending on what I'm reading or what I'm not reading. I, for a long time, went without this sort of stimulation depending solely on human interaction to keep me afloat, as I have now distanced myself I am now aware enough to discover it.</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333"> </span></span><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333"><br /><br /><span class="apple-style-span">Constant human contact does not foster independent thought. It weakens it.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">I thought , with the help of people around me, that falling in love would make me happier you know? Well, it’s not. Love is actually hard work. It’s made me realize how inadequate I am. How inadequately I understand myself. If I can not understand myself? How would I understand weaving myself so intrinsically with another soul? With its differing strands?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">I actually became social.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">And now, I’m anti social. It's beautiful to me. I notice so much more, I discover so much more, soaking yourself in a system that is not even aware of itself, will of course pollute you. </span></span><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif";color:#333333">Talk to you self. Ask yourself questions. Can you answer? <span class="apple-style-span">Widen your eyes in surprise at the misery that weighs your heart.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span> <span class="apple-style-span">The script this world and our friends give us does not fit the world we live in. We must walk, learn and grow, ALONE. Continuously surrounding yourself within a pack before you have learned to stand on your own will diminish your ability to at all, ever again.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br /><span class="apple-style-span">It's very simple.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="apple-style-span">You MUST know YOU before you can know others.</span><br /><br /><span class="apple-style-span">I lost a lot of people last year. People I now know weren't ever really supposed to contribute to my life. People who don't actually deserve to know me. The liars I had accepted, the confusion I ignored, all dashed aside in a couple of days.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br /><span class="apple-style-span">And I know in my heart that this is what is best, because detachment came so easily for me. I must replace those that have failed me with those that will love.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">I can feel myself change. Evolve. You know? I was the kind that never wanted money, wanted to fuck a dozen white girls? Work as a waiter? Be decidedly poor? Have all the time in the evenings to write a book? Contract another STD? Erectile Dysfunction? Hollywood? TV? Radio? The works? You know? You know?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">But I’ve changed. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But does this evolution consist entirely of what my soul desires for me? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Or what the wolf pack wants?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">It’s what you do, when you are with YOU, that is YOU.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">I must learn to depend on myself. I must learn to cure my misery. My heart yearns for a cure. Little does it know that the answer lies in itself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">I will grow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333">Unhindered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; color:#333333"><br /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-37528481070822567332011-04-25T01:45:00.000-07:002011-04-25T01:49:36.570-07:00The Joke.<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">They'd fucked like rabbits for days.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p>Somehow, she lay prone and spread out on his back, her head resting on his back. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his back. The very thought of her breasts against her back made him smile.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She sighed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">They were happy. Like deep in their guts, stupid smile on their faces happy. He willed his mind to stay with him. Placing an arm under his chin, he felt her inhale deeply, brushing her always stiff nipples on the sides of his back. He felt her wake.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She ran her left leg along the length of his right. He felt her smile involuntarily.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"Talk". She spoke.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"What? Er... What should I say?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"Anything. I like hearing you talk."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">He was almost certain she was smiling. It seemed to pull at his chest anytime she smiled. You know those type of smiles that left her entire, almost straight teeth glaring for the world to see? With spaces in between the sides of her lips and her teeth? With the middle of her lower lip creating a slight dimple? A dimple he'd come to love to suck?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"I'll tell you a story, then"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"Make it scary". She breathed. "And horny".</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"Haha". I'm a specialist at tragedy."</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">He could almost picture her think. She said he had a ready made answer for everything. Sometimes he thought in his head, I have a readymade dick for everything. But he knew. And he was scared. He was so scared, he doubted his ability to please her. He felt the moisture of her warm breathe settle on his neck. She felt the tips of her fingers, slightly, ever so slightly, caress the nape of his neck. He shivered, not from the touch, but from the thought of what that slight touch could do to his mind.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"What are you thinking about?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"Nothing".</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"So you won't tell me a story then?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"Except you'd listen to a tragedy?"</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She rolled off him to his side. She faced him, her almost angelic</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">"Let’s make a story then, just you and me".</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">He turned over, as she sat up on his laps. He grabbed her ass, tilted his head and kissed her neck. Her hands splayed at his sides, clutching his ribcage with as much ferocity as he worked his magic on her neck. He moved to her collar bone, and felt the laps moisten. He drew away. He held her face in his hands, and silently willed her to smile. As he saw the approach of a smile on her small face, he closed his eyes, and enclosed her upper lip in a soft kiss. He slowed down the kiss, totally disregarding her lower lip, barely kissing her, making her lean forward in want....</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She drew his face to hers, her hands on his head, kissing him so hard she almost drew blood. He turned her over, laying her down on the bed, tracing a path from her lips to her very core, barely hearing her soft moans turn into muffled screams as his lips brushed against her clitoris. His tongue parted her lips, tasting the sour and warm essence of her.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Teasing, licking, softly chewing, her laps closed over his ears so tightly, he almost turned deaf to her outward screams. Using his mouth like a suction tube, he applied "mouthy" pressure on her vagina and, at first brushed against her rudder gently, before proceeding to make into his own private lollipop...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">Her eyes glazed over as he worked his magic over her.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">Such undeniable magic. It was embarrassing to not admit how much he made her come verbally, but admit it directly to his mouth. Never had she wanted to conquer a human so much. She could hardly remember how it happened. Much of their relationship was purely sexual. Form the first day she texted him, his brazen sexuality tickled her senses in ways it shouldn't have.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">His Voice.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">His voice alone could caress her from miles away, making her want him with warm proof from between her thighs...The first time she saw him, she wasn't actually that attracted to his face to be honest, but it certainly didn't lose any points with lesser opinions so it mattered not.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">Besides, his body, his style, his seriousness was just intoxicating. So intoxicating, how could she resist a little random sex?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">With him, she found herself saying that a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">“How can I resist?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">He came to her hotel room the next day, as soon as she opened the door she felt the game was afoot instantly. This pretty ass boy came to fall in love. She felt his desire for her. It crackled in the air.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She didn't even remember how it happened to be honest, all she knew was suddenly everybody was naked, suddenly his mouth was everywhere, suddenly all these gorgeous adlibs were raining down on her and suddenly her panties were being torn off by a perfect set of model teeth.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">Absolute demon.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">His penis made her think of a Dragon, ancient & powerful, commanding, yet benevolent if loved correctly. Every rumor she had ever heard of the stereotypical african man presented itself in her face that day. She felt like the knight who instead of slaying the Dragon, wooed it to get to it's treasure.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">To even compare it to her forearm would be incredulous.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">And she took all of it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She fucking bruised it. He got drunk off her ability, no one had ever taken over his body like that.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">As he had her climbing the wall to get away from his tongue.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">While smoking a blunt.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> He talked. “What are we doing?”</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> She kissed the tip of his member and his eyes instantly shut. “We're just two human beings, enjoying each other. You'll never want to stop enjoying me, you love this fat pussy too much.”</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p>Another kiss, this time met with a groan.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">“Why don't you come over here and show me just how much you're going to miss this soon? I might hate you next time I see you, this might be your only chance.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">His eyes fly open and he stares right into her's, looking for any sort of deception or mirth that would indicate her words be translated into a joke. But she did not change any part of her face, she neither smiled nor frowned, She had never been more serious with him.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She had reached the pinnacle of her debauchery and her moral compass had become completely askew... It was not her heart to hurt the one fucked, but she had to, to keep herself happy, she did not set out to cause him pain, she simply did not have the courage to break free and so she deviated and like so many of the others before him, her feelings for this dude could be completely eradicated in a matter of a few simple and blissful minutes.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">Justice has no place for “feelings” and “sex” in the same breath in this world.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She glanced at the ring on her finger, as it gripped his inner left thigh. It was the ring her boyfriend gave her. It would be his doom eventually. There was no denying that were was no future in them. She found his little bouts of jealousy attractive because of the deficiency's of the relationship she was in at the time.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She would go back, continue to fuck her perfectly loving boyfriend, she could and would not break free.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">He still stared into her eyes. She pouted her lips, half closing her eyes in a mock sensual pose and lifted her legs up to his shoulders. He bent down, with her legs still on his shoulder, elevating her ass fully off the bed, his turgid penis brush against her sex.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She shivered.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">As he tried to kiss her, she evaded his mouth, caught his ear with her lips, and whispered softly:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">Fuck Me. Love Me?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She felt him smile. Such was his complete control, he entered her without a word. Moving inside her, filling her so completely she thought his dick was brushing against her womb. Her legs began to turn into jelly. Her toes arched and a gust of wind blew against her soles...</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">He stared into her wide eyes. He saw the pleasure he was inflicting on her, saw it written in black and white on her face.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She's beautiful. And much more so when that pretty face was wracked with pleasure.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">But she is a fool. Absolutely beautiful, to some, stunning body, to all, but very little mental capability. I don't know what she'll do when her looks run out. She was so lucky to have her boyfriend. Someone who loved her. Who would marry her. In fact, he thought she was lucky getting fucked by him. He couldn't reconcile the facts. They didn't love each other, they loved their mutual understanding. No, they loved each other. *sigh* He just couldn't reconcile it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">He felt his loins quiver. He heard her voice tremble. Ever so distantly. He couldn't stop now. Just like he couldn't stop <s>fucking</s> loving her. He smiled. Ruefully.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">She thinks He jokes.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">And in a way He does.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">With their entire relationship.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 13px; ">Everybody has a purpose. You just have to find the balance.</span></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-38886921013608382362011-04-11T01:11:00.000-07:002011-04-11T01:12:27.145-07:00A Little Reblogging Love.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-CA</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> 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0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0cm; mso-para-margin-right:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0cm; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-fareast-language:EN-US;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">******<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">And So. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">It’s Cold. All is wet, bright and zen. When I woke up, I felt at peace, so cool, all was light and bright and nothing was pressuring my mind. Put on some Rita Marley. She always speaks of Jah.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Then it hit me. I’m lonely because I want to be.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Its funny how lonely I feel at times, even if there are about 500 people I could speak to, tweet to or just decide to take an interest in. Would be stupid to say none of them are interesting. Maybe I’m the boring one? Rita Marley’s fussing and fighting comes up. I should not write in times like this. I could terribly bore you. But then, sometimes, boring can be fun.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Your boyfriend/girlfriend should be your best friend. There is no black and white in that shit.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">This generation has degenerated into such terrible fakeness, we are beginning to lose our identities as persons. We fuck around trying to find the perfect partner, while at the end of the day, we find ourselves unable to discern between what is fake and what is true. What is true about ourselves. About our very persons. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Ziggy Marley’s Testify.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">That we all are looking for love. There. I said it. I fully admit it to myself, we all want deep romance. Lust is boring. Lust is nothing. I despise it, it's so basic, so mundane, such a peasant action, it gives birth to life trash. I want nothing to do with lust anymore.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I want love. We want love.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Lots of love.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Deep trust, deep understanding, friendship.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Friendship. Bonding. Linked hearts.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Get me?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I’m guessing this is me growing up, really knowing what I want, and finally gritting my teeth and admitting what exactly I have to do and not do to get what I want. Some things are unhealthy for you, emotionally, physically, stay away from poison. Giving, receiving or if you're simply around it, stay away from it. I've had some pretty harrowing experiences in my day, and lust led me to all of those dragons. Led me into the mouth of all those monsters. I've survived, but as always, you learn from your actions. Well, I do. Especially from the consequences. So in short.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Fuck lust.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I want to hold hands. I want to talk. I want to smoke. I want to listen to music.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I don't want to fuck. I don't want to know in what position you want to fuck. I don’t want to see you naked. I don’t want to caress.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I want to touch. Your soul.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I want to make you speechless.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">I’m almost like a girl. I'm very passionate you know? I'm romantic. I'm a believer, I have faith in the power of love. All that epic Disney shit really touched me as a child. Especially that: Pocahontas. And I've seen it, I know it's real, because I can imagine it. Because I can envision a perfect love, an endless love, that ability? Is more than enough to fuel my belief in what seems other worldly to us now. What seems so fake. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">We have created Fake Love.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">We're just confused. At least that's what I believe. Love is still here, we've just forgotten what it looks like. Some of us have never even known. How can you? How would you? When you think and base yourself by the stupid standards of others? Of what your boyfriend should look like? Of what your girlfriend should look like? Or how you say: “We connect, but I don’t like her that way?” Of how, he’s my best friend but I’m not in lust with him? Lust? Then you meet a simply handsome dude, who has nothing but lust for you, and then the fakeness that is actually lust, which you believe is love, take over your soul. He tells you: I love you. With a leer in his mind. Of course, you can’t see that. You’re blinded by your fake definition of love. You’re blinded by desire. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 11.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">I have lost all respect for those blinded by desire, it sickens me to my stomach when I see a stranger glance at someone with lust, lust sickens me, men and women fueled by lust plague my heart, I am angered, because lust demeans people’s worth. She is more than this flesh, all the beguiling aesthetics around her.</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 11.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">And so society also nails this feign over and over in the head. Watch twilight. She’d fuck Edward before Jacob. Shallow… I never will be.</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 11.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Cue: Rita Marley. One Draw ( I wanna get high)</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 11.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">And so the flesh no longer has my attention, I only want to see your mind, I only want soul, I only love soul, I only feel soul. I only touch soul. I only speak to soul. I only fuck soul.</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: justify; line-height: 11.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">I used to do random sex too. Might be a tad confusing. But I do not agree with sleeping around to satisfy some deep emotional issue. Some deep emotional longing. Know what you want, get it. Don’t catch stupid fake ass feelings. Don’t discuss how many kid’s you’ll have. Cause all you have is just fuck. Just sex. It’s two wide differing places. You’ll have to learn it yourself. But wait, if you really want to enjoy the sex. First fuck the mind.</span><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">In the end, it is what it is. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Always follow your mind. It brings only Joy.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Don’t stomach nonsense. Fuck the pretty and bad bitches. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; line-height: normal;"><i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";">Your definition of Love is Blind. Isn’t being dumb enough?</span></i><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif";"> </span></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-29275648995916276262011-04-07T02:26:00.000-07:002011-04-07T02:28:52.028-07:00Per Usual.<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"">Per usual, I don’t know what to say. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> I always write in the face of emotional turmoil, because writing is what clears my head. That being said, it’s so fucking amusing that many people seem to be amused or get inspired with my misery. And now, I’m frankly sure 2011 wants to suck my dick. I’ve broken so many bridges this year, trying to be happy, or trying to give up on people who would rather kiss my ass than suck my dick, and, BRA, you’ll never understand how hard these things can me. People could have their lips glued to the crack of your ass so much, the extra effort you need to force them off is soul wrenching.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> Anyways. I've had an emotionally taxing day in which I had to explain the unexplainable and defend my spirituality (or my lack of belief in it) to a Christian. It's funny how in the face of the unknown people immediately try to convert me. Point blank, that shit immediately offends me. So, I don’t argue. But in this case, I explained, and I discovered that another simple cure for misery is talking with a like mind. As I talked with that unknown yesterday, I felt my soul pour out through her words; I had a wry smile on my face throughout. Thank you for coming through.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> I broke up with HER yesterday, and relinquished control of my world to the unknown.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> The same unknown that I am sure created the world. I am a child of chance, a victim of fate. I have the power to take that step forward, but not the sight to see where it might lead me in the end. No matter what impending doom is around the corner, I have to take that step forward, I can only hope to move my arm and it moves.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> Hope is all I got.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> What else can I do?</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> This world is laced with wants, with greed laced with a false sense of need, with lust for unimportant and impermanent belongings, for definition from all of these factors that would otherwise be found in ourselves. Everything about this world we have created on top of the world given to us in the end simply fills another man's pocket with ill gotten gold, the pursuit of happiness is ultimately futile.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> We are the very definition of happiness, our existence, Being is happiness.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> The journey is realizing that singular truth.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> The false pursuit of joy, of a lie, has made us ugly, fat, unhealthy, cancerous and miserable and we will die this way without reality. Without discovery, depending on everything but yourself to provide that smile on your face? Whose muscles do you use to widen that grin? To bear your pearly whites? Whose face is it that smiles? Is it not your own? So why depend on another source when the action is born in you alone? Why depend on another source for your joy? Such that when that person decides that the source of his joy has to change, you are left hanging from a cliff from which you will only tumble into a freaking state of dejectedness.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> Do good and good will happen.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> Give a smile, get a smile.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> My soul speaks the loudest. My aura is what they feel. No matter the wrapper. What's underneath last's longer, the taste is savored, the energy shared, the gift translated.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> I'm writing to the sound of my own voice. It's a profound experience for me. I had been told that I looked like I possessed some sort of vocal skill plenty times in my life but I always met the words with an incredulous stare. I underestimated myself.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> I suddenly feel so powerful.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> Being able to express my emotions through the one thing I love most in this world? Talking and Writing? You mean I can be on radio speaking softly into your ears? Caressing your soul? You mean, I can be that amazing dude on stage pulling people with words? What? Soon.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> And Oprah. Fuck You. And your religion.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> See?</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> This world is empty.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"">Let's fill it up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> I’m just 21. Imagine me in 4 years.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> May the grass be green under your feet.</o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;line-height:150%;font-family: "Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-22532211430698998342011-03-31T02:20:00.000-07:002011-03-31T02:21:24.497-07:00March 31.<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">6:00 am.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Back in my ususal zones. Im a bit on the edge now, but im not angry, just slightly amused. I just checked my mentions ... and WOW. On the same topic I mean. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So I've not been in school for about 2 weeks now and unlike my last semester here I have been as serious as possible, my entire life has been about work, school and "her" because I am trying to build a future. I rarely go out, I mind my own business and I keep to myself, completely out of the lime light, that's if you don't count the working and the writing, but at the same time that falls in line with my career so I cannot be judged because of that. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I have been a relatively good boy, a freaking monk some might say, at least compared to what I could be doing, at least compared to what most of YOU are doing. But despite all this. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">People still find something to say about me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I get that, it's twitter, you people have nothing else to do but talk, I feel for you, I do BUT, if you're going to spread malicious rumors about me, even go as far as mentioning me in some damn tweet that has absolutlely nohing to do with me?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At least come up with something original, something juicy, something worth my aggravation.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Because I am so tired of this shit.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The last time I had a close girl friend, the same things were said, but those words were given to me in an attempt to force me to disassociate with said female. In the end I did.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, I have a best friend girl, and she also plays the role of my mother and sister when the situation calls for it, and because I never fight with her, because I refuse to stab her in the back, because I defend her when I hear slander.... then, I MUST be sleeping with her?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Must you corrupt everything?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don't understand this. And you don't see the ignorance in any of this? Or the stupidity?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why me?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Continue to slander me if you must, there is no such thing as bad publicity in this point of time in my life. Keep talking, it'll just get me more writing contracts, facebook friends etc but if you must talk, if you must fucking talk...-</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">At least come up with something worth my time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">For real?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And even if I was fucking her? And so the hell what? What is wrong with that? What exactly about who I fuck designates the need for aanyone to give a fuck about? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And most of the people who spend so much time talking about the life and times of the 20 year old Babafermie Smith have NEVER met me in person.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's just so pathetic. And you don't even realize it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pathetic and incredibly sad.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You should fucking see my inbox.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Do you understand what I am trying to say?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When you spread rumors, in a way you are lying, therefore creating the most negative energy possible for yourself and your future, you fuck yourselves up without even realizing and because you've sown the seed of fuckery everything you touch will crumble, you'll find far too much unproductive free time on your hands and you'll continue to gossip, while the people you go on about transcend you in ways you couldn't ever have imagined for yourself.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now do you understand what I'm trying to say?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If not, just please create some better stories ok? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This shit is just boring now.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In other news, today has been an emotional roller coaster. There are a lot of decisions I have to make about my life, decisions with consequences I don't generally support but must be done. I love Nigeria you know? Because it's home. And after being out of my nuclear home for a couple of months, the idea of home is extremely valuable to you. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I never really had a definite "home" so if I can sit down and say, this is my heart, this is my home. I'm happy. But to achieve the things I want to, I might need to leave. Ultimatums are being brought forward and I'm resentful, cause in honesty, I want to have my cake and eat it too.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'll bounce back though, the light will illuminate the path before me. I'm just at crossroads, I have so many options, I just don't know what to do. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I really will hate leaving Nigeria, living in Australia, being alone in Australia. But I now have the resources to go back and forth whenever I please, and a psychology or business degree from an Australian accredited institution would be a lot more lucrative you know?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I think my decision is already made, but I hate it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But at the end of the day, it's for the better. You gotta live today for tomorrow. You gotta be smart with the big responsibility that is your life, cause if I fuck up now, if I slip up now, I'm the only one that'll suffer, I'll be the only to blame. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can't risk my future. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When she presented the idea to me, I was upset, I was terrified, I basically cringed at the idea of moving again, but hey, I'm young, this is the only time I'll ever get to do it. And she's right. Admitting that is the hardest thing I've done all day. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But I feel better. The idea sucks, but I feel better. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">All zenned out and shit.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Peace and blessings.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Don't be afraid of discomfort, especially if it turns out be lucrative. You have to have a balance you know? Nothing worthwhile comes without work, nothing real, nothing lasting comes without difficulties.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Do what you have to for your future and your legacy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And ill still will the Pulitzer. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">May the grass be green under your feet. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><3. Peace.</span></div><div><br /></div>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-9721077089715430312011-03-28T04:06:00.000-07:002011-03-28T04:09:24.709-07:00Old.<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:relyonvml/> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> 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mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; text-align:justify; line-height:150%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="1026"> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout ext="edit"> <o:idmap ext="edit" data="1"> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">-It's old. But there ain't anything like some re-blogging love.<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I remember how you used to make me feel and at the same time I draw a complete blank, like I can't bare to recall that joy when you're so many miles away from me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I remember some other things though.</span></p><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Your head bobbing up and down my dick with your chain round your neck and your tongue having a brain of its own between my legs.</span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I remember some mother fucking things.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Because for some reason, no matter how much I told the world I hated you, and I still tell the world that, when you came around me I glowed, you made the muscles in my body tighten up in anticipation of you.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Time against us. Miles between us.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Somehow you remained and now you want to take that risk with me?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> What planet am I on baby?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Because even though we had our days of just lighting each other on fire in a room filled smoke. Even though you loved me in a way that fit me so perfectly. The freedom you gave me, the honesty you fed me. We all have our secrets and I had a couple of dread headed ones myself.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> We were 97% honest with each other.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> But I think of you now, unbuttoning my shirt & whispering “I don't want to share you.” against my neck. One hand works while the other dives. I think of how you'd squirm. What you'd say. I think of the ocean your body would make for me to leap in. I think of the way you’ll wind your hips against my person.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> You always amazed me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> I always loved you. I couldn't help myself. I still don't understand it to this day, but when I think about you kissing the birthmarks on my right shoulder, nothing has to make sense.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> You'd come everyday, never fail and I’d shoot you with that AK full of bullets filled with liquid joy.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> I never thought we would last though.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">There were others that came before me, that I understood held priority, that I might've even used as a reason to continue on with some of my more major sexual eccentricities.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> 'She' was my safety net.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">So that no matter how hurt I ended up? No matter how badly I needed you?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> I never failed to concede that you were never mine. So the pain was fleeting.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> I knew your game too well, I could lead sheep to the wolf in your name with ease and the fact that you trusted me too? Meant so much to a dude like me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> I know you love my crazy little person. Still DO.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> And when you came back? </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> You had to, to still want me, after all those months? Isn't that terrifying to people like us? We've seen the world in between our sheets, freedom is our oxygen, infidelity our bread & butter. How else could the sex have been so damn fantastic?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> I think about where you'd hold me, where you'd touch. What would you kiss first? What would you want first? It's been so long, my body has almost forgotten all about yours.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> But there's this one string inside my solar plexus that lights up when I think about me plowing you. It gets hotter when I think about that night you kept drinking powerhorse, like you meant some serious business.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> You said I always amazed my body. I loved it like I owned it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> And for a while, I think I did. But then life catches up with you and youth doesn't survive the pressure. But that's what time is for. Second chances.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> I wanna take you around for another spin baby.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I want you all up in my zone.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">All up in my core.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">All up in my fucking pores.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I want to make it Thunder.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">All over me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">So hard, I'm just sitting here thinking about you, hoping, that you're sitting your somewhere, thinking about me, hoping that I'm sitting my somewhere thinking about you.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I mean..</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">You just make it so easy for me to fall right back into place with you. But there's an ocean between us and these hazy high nights get lonely for a person like me. So, you get subbed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I wait to conquer you.<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> In the meantime, I'll keep on playing my little games.</span></p> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-23204170897776729612011-03-28T03:29:00.001-07:002011-03-28T04:03:30.418-07:00Musings. 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mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">It’s morning, and I’m awake. And thankful.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I’ve been going through the motions for the past few days, my innards are threadbare. I’m fucking tired. As tired as shit. Abuja, inasmuch as it is exciting, is tiring. But, yeah, I’m zooming past all stagnation. Hustling my way to the fucking top, and zooming past the fuckery.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Oh, and I feel really good today. I've been feeling good all week actually, so good that I don't remember what bad feels like and that is truly a blessed feeling. See, I gave up. I relinquished control of my world to the unknown.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">The same unknown that I am sure created the world. I am a child of chance, a victim of fate. I have the power to take that step forward, but not the sight to see where it might lead me in the end. No matter what impending doom is around the corner, I have to take that step forward, I can only hope to move my arm and it moves.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Hope is all I got.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I trust in whatever beats my heart to look out for me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I do what I want, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">What else can I do?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Many things have happened, I can’t seem to be able to adequately find time to document all these mysteries in the life of Femi, but I will, and it shall be documented. But one thing cannot be brushed away so easily. I feel like I'm losing a friend. There, I said it, it's out in the open, what's been bothering me this entire while. I know how easy I am to adjust, so the idea that if this said friend does suddenly find herself no longer in the friend zone with me not very eager to bring her back in the safe zone worries me because I know how possible it is.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Every time I talk to this person I feel like there's an elephant in my chest and I just can't handle it, seeing it now on paper like this the solution is making itself awfully clear but in an effort to change I'm resisting it. Perhaps I need to learn that resisting what is natural to me will only make me uncomfortable and I will only suffer in the end.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">And I have been pretty uncomfortable lately, extremely so. I'm fighting my nature for someone else's definition of friendship. And I keep telling myself: Just be yourself, don't be afraid to listen to yourself, no matter what anyone else tells you, no matter the rules on how you're supposed to act. How do they know how YOU are supposed to act?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Who knows you better than you? </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">And you know, this is the same friend I was jealous about.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But then, It is what it is. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">But how is everyone? You all good? I’m so fucking self-centered, I rarely ask if you guys are doing good. Well, I'm young. I'm black. I'm a fucking genius.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I’ll make sure I see someone who hasn’t made up her mind whether or not to eat sushi today.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I need to kiss. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">My brain is in all sorts of places… </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">You’re not supposed to work for your own happiness.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I love you, die.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I love my family, die.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I love weed, die.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">I love myself, die.</span></p> </m:defjc></m:rmargin></m:lmargin></m:dispdef></m:smallfrac>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-24727889586819768872011-03-18T03:41:00.000-07:002011-03-18T03:42:50.062-07:00Hi.<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Her: cn we c tonyt?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">FS: Er, It’s raining.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Her: its stpd raining.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">FS: Where’s your worship centre?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Her: Nyberg, pls come…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">FS: I don’t want to see you.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Some people don’t just get it do they?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">You should know i'm in a frigging lazy mood.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Because of all this writing i'm doing. Apart from the book work, school work, and all the blogging, getting to meet some of those I'd never met but chatted with, has been totally awesome and sometimes awkward.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">You want to know something interesting?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I didn't smoke, or drink my entire Secondary school.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Thinking about it now, the path to my metamorphosis was quite astounding. I mean there was no clear signs that would point to the person I am today, there was no direct route, no obvious outcome.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I've just always been myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I've just always done what I wanted to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I didn't want to smoke or drink. So I didn't.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I wanted to have sex with a prostitute and I did.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Then all of a sudden. I just didn't. It's kind of like when your favorite color changes. Preferences change you know? You go to a buka or restaurant you've been eating at for years and all of a sudden decide to eat something you've never tried before.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Change in a change you know?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">So after I graduated Sec. school.........all of a sudden.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I was drinking, I was smoking , I was cheating on the "love of my life", I was changing....<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I was growing and to put it simply.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I was doing what ever the fuck I wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Because that's me. That's the mystery behind Me. I do what I want and I don't hold myself back. I was talking to an old friend who informed me of a conversation he had with another old friend about me, where the second old friend said that she was afraid to speak to me now because she wasn't sure what I would be like, would I be nice Fermie? Or crazy Fermie?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And I can't help but laugh at the innocence of that question.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Because when you think about it, not that much time has passed it's just that the amount of shit I've managed to pile in such a small amount of time has forced me out of...well...myself.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">That Fermie? That Fermie was a doppelganger of this Fermie.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">That Fermie is no nicer, no happier, and was no more at peace than this Fermie.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">There isn't much difference; the wording of my translation has switched up is all.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And maybe it's in a different language as well.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I can do what I want and have it not reflect badly on my life because in the end I'm not a bad person.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I'm just trying to die happy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">So if you want to have a nice little chat with me go ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I won't bite.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">As long you don't expect me to be nice. And if I’m in a nice mood, Enjoy it while it lasts.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">But In the end, it turns out I’m just ME. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Nobody ever comments on my shit. Do I scare you? Or leave you speechless?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; line-height:115%;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I DON’T BITE.<o:p></o:p></span></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-4693860943602714612011-03-14T08:16:00.000-07:002011-03-14T08:21:00.995-07:00Knowing.<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I just got off the phone. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And it's 3:39 AM on this side of the planet, and I am determined to sleep like a normal human being tonight, dash my vampire nature entirely and abide with the day walkers. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But I can't get the phone convo out of my head. I just talked with someone I now have mad respect for. I have mad respect for someone who can see past my stupidity into the depths of my being, that means we're of like minds. I'm all about like minds, about souls of the same nature. Not even on a romantic tip, on a human being tip, those type of people are trust worthy, those are the type of people you can learn from, the type that won't lead you in the lair of bullshit. I don't like to mess with that lair. It's not really my cup of joe.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So I was going through my old facebook pictures, a year can make a very large difference, growing up and then realizing you've grown up are completely different sensations you know? It's scary, going back to the same place, but knowing that you're a completely different person. I'm not gonna feel the same way I did about things a year ago, I've seen a lot, I've learnt a lot.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In a way, I've found myself, gets my head all big, my ego pumped up with positive energy, knowing that now, that culture won't affect me like it used to, cause I know myself, I know my destiny. I know Femi.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What the fuck you think I was sitting here doing? My ass has been learning. I haven't been tweeting. I haven't just been sitting down. And anytime my mind goes back to twitter and all the friends I have there, about everything and everyone... I begin to get afraid.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our generation has been blessed with the gift of limitless information, information that is only a few clicks of a mouse away, information that rivals that of Alexander the Great's own fabled library, information that once nations and empires ravaged the planet for, and yet my generation wants nothing to do with it.We don't want to do anything about and with it. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As children we are raised to be better than our parents, to be an advanced variation of their souls, to be the 2.0 of their legacy, and yet we waste away and disappoint them. Why is it that now that we are free to learn and encompass all, and truly be all that we can, we waste it? Waste it trying to become "social icons" by spitting out verbal diahorea on the internet to people who don't actually give a fuck? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why are you content in your stupidity? In your ignorance?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">1. I love girls, I love weed, I love music.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">2. I love psychology, I love history, I love philosophy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why does #1 make me a normal human being and #2 make me a nerd freak?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If I say my expectations for my generation are too high I would be insulting my very own creation, I would be insulting my very existence, I would be insulting anyone that ever fought or died to give us this edification.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A lot of the times I am looked at like an alien because of my wide range of interests, when someone walks in on me watching The History Channel or Africa Magic or Discovery or Afmag Plus, the first question they ask is;</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">“What the fuck are you watching?”</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And at this point I honestly think that I am what my ancestors wanted our generation to become, I am the full embodiment of what we are supposed to be. And yet, I'M the strange one. You're walking around with shackles on your brains and you don't even realize that you've bought into the mass mental slavery that is 21st century marketing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You're basic cattle infected with mad cow disease and you've have been ravaged by this infection for so long that is has become a part of your life so when you come across another animal sans the affliction you are so blinded and taken over by your physical filth that a healthy representation of your race is deemed unnatural by your sensory neurons.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Im Sorry.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This generation is suffering from a mass case of the Stockholm syndrome. You trust and love your captor, you see anything else as foreign and unwelcome, you see knowledge as the enemy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There is nothing wrong with opening a book and reading it, that is what they are for, there is nothing wrong with knowing how much venom a rattle snake holds in it's fangs, there is nothing wrong with knowing the exact coordinates of your home or workplace, there is nothing absolutely fucking wrong with waning to know how twitter even works, and how they fucking make all those billion you'll never make a tenth of? There is nothing wrong with being a genius.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And there should be nothing 'strange' about being smart. Why should intelligence be special? Why can it not be the average? You're so busy searching for Music videos and Free Music on Youtube and ForShared when you could be traveling through the universe with Professor Lee in HD. (sic)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why does my generation choose ignorance over wisdom?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don't want to care, and in any other situation I wouldn't. But I want to raise my kid in this world, this world that seems to be crumbling around me socially, everyday we lose another bright young brain to this monster, everyday the light lessens and it frightens me because if my generation has been degraded to such a level...what about the next? And the next? And the next?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You have to understand, that from this point on in human history the resources we have, the resources we can use in our development have never been seen or implemented in any of the generations before us, we are truly different on all levels.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We are the forefathers of the information age, we are the beginning.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">AND WE ARE FUCKING IDIOTS.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">How can there be hope for the next? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But for some strange reason, I still do have hope, it's tiny, absolutely miniscule but it's still there. It's sewn into my soul, it flows in my blood, because I can't succumb to the fear of this mental disease. I can't surrender to this deception.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Because somehow I will survive this mass cerebral genocide and my endurance will be proof enough for that little flicker of hope to pull through. Because we're made up of the same material, the same number of atoms, the same number of cells, and if I can supersede this you can too. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"Life without knowledge is death in disguise" </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Amen, Thank you Jesus. Nexxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxt.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I really want to write for a Magazine.</span></div>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-39407659142200299572011-03-14T08:12:00.000-07:002011-03-14T08:15:31.822-07:00*sigh*<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And so, I’m back. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Not like I went anywhere before, I’m just back. Why do I always do this to myself? I never write, I let life pile up & then when I sit down to pen a piece I'm utterly speechless. I wouldn't call this writers block, I'd call this laziness.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Utter laziness.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Luckily I have weed with me, so I’m chilled, and I’m thinking. Wait, sometimes I despise it when people worship me, especially in person, especially when I'm high, because there's not much you can say without sounding conceited & it always takes me by surprise. Do you know how many people I run into with the words “I love your blog”. It completely shatters the ice for me, and then I can't even introduce myself, or say my name.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I never realized how much I liked introducing myself to people until the option was taken away from me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And that’s one of the reasons I stopped tweeting. Like it or not, we have all become stereotypical attention whores and I simply couldn’t stomach it anymore. It's like we're all trying to have the sort of distant accepted reputation we don’t and might never ever have. I stopped having friends. It’s kinda really hard to explain, you know? For most of these last year, most people I knew knew me as Hey, that’s Femi, my favorite tweeter". Not like they said it actually. Honestly, I’d like "That's a human being whose name is Femi.". Not too much for me to ask, yeah? Yeah?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I was becoming too fucking egoistical; it began to fuck with the part of me that always goes: You’re not all that you know?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Anyways, I’d want to be a happy person you know? And in the spirit of being happy, I can't seem to get you out of my pores.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I don't understand. Cause I haven’t even seen you? Ever? Shouldn't my dick be wrought with some fear?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">But it wants you. Everything wants you. My toes. My knees. My fingernails. All want you.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">It's troublesome. It's meddlesome.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I think I might be a little obsessed... with the fact that I haven’t had sex in a while. Who does that? I'm not sure if I've been drugged or this is some kind of spell but honestly the thrill of keeping my desire in check completely overwhelms me. It might be scientific all have to do with my hormones but honestly at this point I doubt it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Because there's only one recurring thought. Over & over. Just one face.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I'm alarmed at myself. I'm not sure if it's because I've been retired for so long that a fresh young dudette got me a little too tweaked or if I've actually been drugged.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I'm banking on drugs. And sugarless bread.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I've fallen back in love with sex. And it flabbergasts me. Why? Because, I haven’t even had it yet. At this point, honestly, I’m blissfully confused.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I feel a little new. A little younger. A little fresher. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And yeah, I’m beginning to actually love myself. I'm finding that a little bit easier to believe now a days no matter how ludicrous it remains. Thing is, I’ll explain. I used to terribly disappoint myself. Over and over again. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I found out that I used to be a complete moron in the face of pussy. I began to abhor it, I began to then abhor sex, and then women. I began to look at myself like a drunkard. And hey, I loathe drunk men, you know the ones who can't stand straight to save their lives? Yeah, fuck them. That's just disgusting, why on earth would you want to have so little control of yourself? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Well, Pussy is and will always be the kryptonite of penis. Great minds lost completely in the tornado that is fresh vagina, conversations dwindled to mummy like dust that tastes so bitter in my mouth all because of fresh vagina. I simply couldn’t stand how easily I used to lose control of my senses in the face of vagina. All logic, thrown out the window and to be honest? It disgusted me. And then, humans with vagina’s came across me as sneaky ass people who came that powerful weapon, and good grief, I didn’t want to have myself emotionally involved with a walking vagina. I couldn’t hate women tho, because that'd mean I hate sex and that's such a fuck up, because I love sex. But god-damn-it, It became hard. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">And right now, I think I’ve mastered the art of keeping my brain standing straight while my dick stands straight, and not allowing my thinking pattern to wilt in the face of vagina. But then, that kills the vibe you know? That emo vibe? That keeps your brain from thinking? It’s safer.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Is it just not meant to be?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Am I simply not meant to have sex?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Is my mojo gone?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">See the cycle? See the path you can go down so easily? I think I think too much. I fell into that hole yesterday and weed pulled me out. Thank God for weed, I just don't know what I'd do without my own space, a joint & music.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I just don't know what I'd do.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">So I think I’m ready. I’m ready to stop thinking. To have sex, because I like it? To not think? About the future? About keeping my ego in front of pussy?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">I'm young, free & eternally high.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">What more could I ask for? Imma keep dancing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-17993633191196314872011-02-28T01:44:00.000-08:002011-02-28T01:45:25.578-08:00<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And so, I type again. I don't know how to start this. What should I say exactly? This feeling is so foreign to me now, typing on a fully functioning keyboard, actually allowed to share my thoughts as fluidly for me as possible. There's just so much that needs to be recorded, I won't say that these are the best years of my life because no one will ever know tomorrow, but we remain thankful for it still. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’ve stopped tweeting. It feels good to work on something new. After all that seems to be what my entire life is about right now, the pursuit of "new", perhaps I shouldn't generalize it so, I mean on average I can be satisfied by the simplest of means, perhaps I meant to say is that I am on the hunt for something "new" in my percentage of human interaction. I'm always fucking with this person or that person, with no malicious intent of course, simply out of pure boredom. Human beings are the most dazzling of puzzles one can amuse one’s self with. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And I've always loved puzzles. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My life is very interesting right now, there are a lot of big fucking intrigues, a lot of scandals and a lot of laughter (stemming from one human), honestly every day I wake up I think "What will show on Gossip Girl Femi today?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm going to write about all my exploits, it needs to be recorded before it is forgotten. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Moping achieves absolutely nothing. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don't know why we keep on employing the use of it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm determined to give myself everything I deserve, I won't lose, I won't let anyone win, all I have to do is ask and it will be mine, I understand that small part of this gigantic world, I understand that part of my soul. Ask and it shall be given. The age old tale of success within ones self. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There's not really a lot to say once you've said that.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A lot's been going on man, And I find myself just standing and watching as it all flows around me. Like in those speed shots where the world is buzzing and this once human being is just standing there staring. I've become easily detachable, easily bored and more unwilling to invest in other human beings emotionally. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I haven't had successful sex in like a million years. It'll be the icing on the cake when I finally get some.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Too many niggas and not enough hoes. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Funny enough... I miss you. But I'm gonna be strong. Cause I want nothing but honesty. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So here, I'm back.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">On the verge of going to a party, my closest friends party, that I actually don't want to go to buying all those those ciggs and drinks, not because I'm looking for a fix but because I think I'll look good with a blunt between the delicate finger’s of my brain. You know why?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm a poser, I'm always posing unconsciously. Even when I don’t want to.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I kid myself. I’m never just that ONE person. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You never will know or understand me. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Am I scaring you?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That fear drives me more than anything else, your inability to understand why I can smoke, why I have no qualms about wearing bathroom slippers to a big function, why I'm so terribly mentally attractive with an underlying tone of repulsiveness.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So you 900 or so people who don't even know me, sitting there making all these assumptions about my life like I give two thousand shits what the fuck you think of me, wanna know why it's so easy for me not to care?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">From experience, I’ll stop having great sex at 70. I have less than 50 years to have great sex. Why the hell should I worry about you when my time is so limited? What the hell are you contributing to my life?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And this is why you can't stop watching me.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is more than you.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is going to be something your children will know.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Your children's children and those after that.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the eternal question will always be "Why?"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And you'll never realize that that's also the answer.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nuevo Bueno.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; "><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-40552226608793839722011-02-28T01:37:00.000-08:002011-02-28T01:49:29.444-08:00It's Storytime.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He felt the chocolaty cum velvety taste of the cheap Rubis Wine in the close recesses of his throat. The sun warmed up his closed eyelashes, seemingly transferring all the positive energy he needed for the week into his tired body. Lying face up in the deep end of his uncle’s pool, he felt the sudden urge to yell. Like a primal beast, his blood throbbed as if it boiled. He felt a shadow fall over his face. And a giggle. The giggle.<br /><br />Um, I’m sorry.<br /><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Huh. For what? She straddled him and placed both hands on his chest. You look so adorable when you apologize.<br /><br />Er, *ahem*, You Welcome?<br /><br />OK.<br /><br />He made as if to say something else, but she placed her middle finger on his lips.<br /><br />He wrapped his fingers wrapped around her waist, one hand slowly tickling the left side as the other played with the zipper on the right. His left hand travels higher, long fingers brushing up against the underside of her breast. His eyes never leave her's. There is so much written there, and he finds himself enamored in the moment, he finds himself controlled. His left index drew tiny circles around the peaks of her chest, the sensations sending electricity to her core in short spasms. She felt hot fluid pool inside her essence. He had never mattered more.<br />You’re staring, and you want to make you kiss you.<br /><br />Yes. Is that bad?<br /><br />She giggled. But its cheating, shey you know?<br /><br />She took her hands and traced the outline of his face, grabbed his and shared her sensual energy with his body. No one said a word, eyes stayed locked, she almost quivered as his hands went further.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He seemed mesmerized by her very presence and she felt the power of his veneration in the restrictive abode of his folded up jeans. She couldn't help but smile in the face of the long journey ahead.<br /><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">His fingers found her core, she swore she would drown.<br /><br />She threw her head back as his lips caressed her throat, soft kisses enticed and satisfied temporarily. She felt the buttons of her shirt come undone, she felt the cold air touch her naked skin and she laughed.<br />He looked up in question.<br /><br />“It tickles” She whispered and he smiled in return.<br /><br />A smile full of explicit intentions, a smile she adored. He was clearly besotted with her. His eyes spoke so much, so much she couldn’t decipher. She was sure he himself couldn’t decipher some of the words in his own head. Like she too, couldn’t decipher why she wanted, needed to kiss him so badly. Fucking hell, she had predicted it. Herself.<br />How much of this do you want? At last, he didn’t hesitate when he talked.<br /><br />As much as you want to give me?<br /><br />He searched her contact’s covered eyes, and he had his answer. Filled with trust and desire. Are you certain?<br />“Don’t worry”, she said, touching the sharp peak of his upper lip with he finger tip, “I’m not that kind of tease”.<br />Slowly, she bent down and tasted his lips. Lightly, tracing the curve of his smile with the tip of her tongue, probing gently, asking for more with every flick of her tongue. With a broken breath, he gave his mouth to her. The warmth seemed to create a kind of ethereal hunger deep in her stomach. She took his mouth with such savage hunger, she was subconsciously worried she would draw blood… But that thought was as fuzzy as her already mushy brain…<br /><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Which wasn’t surprising when she found out that her shirt was already open. The tips of her breasts hardened as they brushed against his seemingly inflamed chest. Instantly, the kiss changed. Becoming hard, deep and urgent. A savage mating of mouths that was almost violent. And she was with him all the way, demanding and giving equally, inciting him even more. Finally, he managed to end the kiss.<br /><br />He looked drunk. She looked stoned. She tried to manage a weak smile.<br /><br />He sighed.<br /><br />Are you okay? She asked, genuinely worried. Did I hurt you?<br /><br />“Ha”. He laughed. A deep throaty laugh. “No”. Or Yes? Maybe? I’d wanted to take you even before I met you. He stared into her eyes. They were hot, smoldering, just as her kiss had been. Their kiss?<br /><br />“I’m not fighting you”.<br /><br />“Maybe you should”. His hands stroked her laps, dangerously close to her core, making her realize how much he was not lying. A small tremor rocked her body. That, did absolutely nothing to calm the storm raging in his loins.<br /><br />“Well, I hate you right now”, she said coyly, at least, you make me violently female.<br /><br />That’s… Bad?<br /><br />“Shut Up”.<br /><br />“If I don’t get into my pockets now, I never will”. Smiling, she dipped her hands into his back pockets, grabbing his ass and pulling out the condom.<br /><br />I Love You, Um, not romantically of course. You know?<br /><br />She touched his already stiff maleness gently, slowly.<br /><br />Arrrgh. I know. I’m a bad liar. But, I’m not going to be lying if I ask you to hold my shoulders or you’ll drown.<br />In a flash, he pulled her into the pool, and vanished underwater. Her knees buckled as she felt the warm sting of his teeth on her belly, and the wild heat of his mouth between her legs. He held her suspended between his hands and his consuming mouth, burning her despite the water swirling around her. The water around her thighs seethed and boiled as the world turned dizzily around her. When all became still, she fond herself astride him, her mouth desperately looking for his mouth. She tried to call him name, but all that came out was a broken sound… He curled his left hand around her hips, and caressed her body like he was caressing her mouth until he held her sex in his palm. She gasped as he inserted one finger into her.<br /><br />She went still.<br /><br />Then she started rocking against his finger, her nails digging into the small of his back. Swiftly, he doubled his presence inside her, stretching her, preparing her. Caressing her. He sucked on the lobe of her ear, and gently whispered, “I thought you said it’s cock or nothing”.<br /><br />Her reply was a low moan. A shiver ran through her as a gust of cold wind blew against her already hardened nipples.<br /><br />“I like the sounds you make”.<br /><br />“Stop copying me, that’s my line.” Her voic was low. Almost unreal. She wondered if it was her’s.<br /><br />“Put it in me”.<br /><br />“Now.”<br /><br />She fumbled with the thin, slippery foil that was protection. The fact that her hands were shaking made her job harder. Finally, she got her revenge by taking her time to put it on, fussing and slowly caressing his engorged maleness until she actually thought it would burst.<br /><br />“You liked that didn’t you?” He asked grimly.<br /><br />“Every last bit of it”. And then, the giggle.<br /><br />“You’re a fucking tease”.<br /><br />“Literally? Fucking Tease? Ha.<br /><br />She was going to say more, but she couldn’t. He had filled her up, she was so ready for him, she didn’t not feel him, until she moved, pressing into him, until they were so deeply joined that neither knew whose mouth kissed or whose arms caressed or whose voice cried out.<br /><br />There was only one body, one rhythm, one voice.<br /><br />He tried to call out her name, and it sounded like his. Very much like his.</span></div>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-75017338620529691242011-02-17T20:39:00.000-08:002011-02-17T20:52:29.493-08:00February 18, 2011.<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And so, everything is well in my world again. Positive energy and sincere words have the ability to heal all wounds.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Always do what you mean, and mean what you do. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A very simple cure for misery.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's 1:36 AM on this side of the planet, and I am determined to sleep like a normal human being tonight, dash my vampire nature entirely and abide with the day walkers.</span></span><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If I was sure of anything I have done or that has been done to me perhaps I wouldn't be so happy. It’s terrible that I can't be sure of anything that has happened, anything that will happen. It is terrible that I find it hard to trust.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was something I was so wonderful at.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What is falling in love like? Is it at all present? In between all the declarations of “great sex” and the belittlement of my masculinity, I find the idea laughable at best. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Which brings me to the next question. Am I falling in love? My instant answer would be an unequivocal no because this is irrefutably not how ‘love’ normally works, it’s not so damn exacerbating but then why does her whole being “nice” effect me in such a fatalistic way?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Why then. Why can't I let her go?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Or maybe this isn’t about her at all.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But my pride will never allow me to admit that. I find it almost sickening how much my attraction to her drives my decisions while she sits back with that smirk on her face lounging about freely, I find the idea that I am here for her embarrassing and deplorable. But I cannot deny it anymore. Maybe if I fully accept this reasoning I will feel better than I do, maybe I wouldn’t feel so disappointed with my situation or my weakness. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But funny enough, its not annoying, not depressing. In fact, Its liberating.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I really don’t know how to do this and it really doesn’t alleviate any of my worries. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">None of them do.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m Truly and completely gratified, because I am damn tired of faking love.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But that isn’t it there is certainly much more that is bothering me.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There is too much ego in this school, too many big girls with nothing big to do.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That is something even I can’t distract.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It’s very strange knowing how easily you could be ignored; it’s not something you get used to. I’ve never had to deal with a girl putting herself or anything else or one before me; I guess that’s my punishment for staying single and free for so long. I’m unhappy in this, but I can’t say no. No matter how hard I try.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh god and those faults of mine? You don't really know how bad they is do you? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I am once again disparaged.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the more it happens the more morose I become.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I like her so much but I have a feeling this may not be worth it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And ironically enough I know it’s not worth it and yet I can do nothing about it.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I don’t think the favor can ever be reciprocated. I love her too much.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Don't you dare judge me or my actions. I do what I please in an attempt to make myself happy. I wandered from bed to bed in attempt to make myself feel again, because that's just who the fuck I am. Because at the end of the day, I am desperate for some kind of emotion, some kind of release from that torture.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe that's why I've stopped lusting so terribly...because I've turned into this robot and I can't reach the switch to reverse the process.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I wish I was simple enough to be content in some vapid relationship, it'd be ridiculously easy to acquire one, I'd have couple facebook pictures, romantic notes and bullshit 'I love you so much' tweets. I'd go through 'em like there's no tomorrow.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But a relationship has never been something I've been able to fabricate. I am far too complex of a person to be able to fool myself or somebody else for that matter in such a way. I’m too intense for that.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But sex? Sex I can do.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You all have your coping mechanisms and I have mine. Don't judge.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">He who is without sin should cast the first stone.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Estic Viu.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">N.B: T</span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%; color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family:'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">here are no mistakes, only lessons. Love yourself, trust your choices, & everything is possible.</span></span></span><span style="line-height:115%;Times New Roman","serif"font-family:";font-size:10.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5285587167158535169.post-54562139057674628952011-02-09T09:56:00.000-08:002011-02-09T10:54:44.342-08:00Repair.Is.Needed<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; line-height: 55px;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">So.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">It happens that I am going through a period of great unhappiness and loneliness right now. All my life, I’ve heard people speak of finding themselves in the acute pain of lonesomeness, bankrupt both in spirit and body and I never understood what they meant. To loose. To have lost. To be lonely. I used to believe these visitations of darkness lasted only a few minutes or hours, or that these saddened<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>and lonely people, in between bouts of lonesomeness, were occupied , as we all think, with the useful presence of acquaintances? Or the useful monotony of happiness?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">But really, as I have come to discover, happiness is nothing but a lucky ice cube that your carry in your head. It takes all your cunning to hang on to it. To keep it solid, but once it melts, you have to move on, try to freeze it back, and wait for it to thaw. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">I kinda have a new life. The beginning of this year, I decided to count my blessings. I was too much of a fucking pessimist, I thought at the time, and that I had a billion and one things to be thankful for..<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">But so I thought. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">And I discovered, that the only thing I can be truly be thankful for is my writing. Or tweeting? Or talking?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Or maybe, thinking? Right now, most of what I do comes devoid of any human interaction. I made a conscious effort last year, to stop partying, drinking and smoking (which by the time you will be reading this, would be a thing of my fucking past), and all I do is go to classes, go back to my pad, stare and sleep. Thing is, I have so many people I randomly talk to, but you know that wall? That limit to which you can open you mouth to say certain things to people without “coding”?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Yeah. That’s what exactly keeps me lonely. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">But then, I’m not interested, the way some people are, in being sad. I’ve had a look, and there is absolutely fucking nothing down that road. I used to reply to people who saw me thinking in the past few days: I’m thinking about my happiness and my unhappiness. The nakedness of that train of thought, leads to a huge void, that can never be filled. But what makes me happy? What lifts my mood? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Nothing. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Why, because nothing can amaze me anymore. Nothing is new. Nothing is special. Nothing is… Nothing IS. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">But then, the rhythm of typing and thinking seems to calm me down. Seems to soothe me. Who would have thought that this old habit of mine would become a strategy for maintaining a semblance of an ongoing life, and un-asked for gift? On days when I exactly don’t know which foot to put in front of the other, I can type my way to becoming a conscious being.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">I began moving out of my dungeon today. Nothing feels as good as this. Although I know the roughness of the journey that awaits me, the brusque feeling of fear and freedom after rebellion is sweet. I am thirsty, but I don't want to get a drink, I simply don't want to cross the path of the self consumed self victimizing monster that has taken over your most beloved once.. When he's in these slumps he forgets that he isn't the only one affected by this fuck up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Do you know what it feels like to have your entire life, your entire personality be defined by your mother/father's romantic mistakes? It is the most belittling feeling on this earth, to be summarized in one small and jaded action, time and time again. People who know me see me and think "He'd be normal if his family was".<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">But my pain is forgotten, because I choose to forget it, I keep myself happy, not only for myself, but for the people around me, because after all smile's are contagious, but they're getting harder as the silence wears on. I know this will all be over soon, I know this solitude, this massive wave of loneliness will seem like a faint memory in the life of Femi, but it is my now, and my now is all I know. My now is deep and vast, every feeling amplified, every sound holds meaning, every thought a justification for my misery. Over analytical and morose Femi. The creative genius rears her ugly head. As words flow like poetry through my fingers into this metallic vessel, I sneer at the mundane, I spit on the average.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">My throat is so dry. The silence is so loud. And the light isn't bright enough.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">And then my thoughts mull over the thought of a person. My thoughts confuse me. Sometimes I see them as a small child that I watch with amusement, he/she looking up at me occasionally seeking encouragement for whichever toy it has created but it mostly ignores me and continues to play in it's own imaginary world. And I sit, on a bench, with a drink and just watch and wait for something to happen.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">These past weeks it has brought my attention to the thoughts of a woman, a dear friend, a dear friend I didn't know well before she left, a dear friend who shouldn't have made the cut but for some strange reason did, it continues to bring this woman before me. And I remain seated and look up at her, scrutinize her, scrunch my face and stick my tongue out in aversion at the idea, she kicks my shin, pulls at the knickers of my heart and forces me to stand.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">And now I am facing her. A questioning look of skepticism on my countenance. She smiles, and there is a slow flutter in my stomach, weak but strong enough to make me wretch. It is not his own physical being that incites such distaste, it's the whole affair in general.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">But then I find that thinking of her makes the silence easier. Cushions my thoughts, paints a smile in my now. Thinking of her helps. Thinking that perhaps she might read this and wonder if I'm writing about her, perhaps she might think I'm being emotional, maybe it'll scare her, if she draws that conclusion she doesn't know me very well. But then again, I might not even be talking about a person, I could be talking about a thing, about an action, about a place, about a certain space on this planet, just something that makes me smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Cause that's all I need really. A hug and a smile. That's all I ever need. It's easy to keep me happy, because I keep myself happy, so external forces are rarely needed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">I'm like a self cleaning oven in a way, just press a button and in 20 minutes I'm sparkling.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">But today? Today?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Repair is needed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 10pt; ">Finito.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p><p></p>mewhoknowsyousowellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04522888549787848345noreply@blogger.com3