I used to love Kanye. My earliest memory of anything Kanye was listening to College Dropout while my aunty Ayo and uncle Wale drove me to and from chocolat royale on children’s day.
I didn’t know enough back then to appreciate how much of a genius kanye was but his music had auto tune, and I lovedddd autotune.
Kanye is an intelligent man. You don’t need to listen to all of his stuff to figure that out. If you listened to his old stuff and you might just have labelled him a conscious rapper. Common, tupac, lupe…I personally don’t think you can have a popular conscious rapper who’s not intelli…wait…
Kanye is married to Kim Kardashian.
An intelligent man married Kim Kardashian.
And all over the world intelligent men have been getting married to and will continue to date Kim Kardashians everyday.
End of note written on the 22nd day of july 2014.
I don’t know where i was going with this. Guess I was just trying to say have a nice body and good guys will come your way.
A woman being labelled smart might not exactly have any significance.
Apparently written june 2014. The 24th.
Lord knows what was happening
Did you call me out of the darkness?
Was i asked to be formed from the earth?
Wasn’t my soul content with complacency…
If it did exist at all.
Did you ask my opinion
Didn’t i fall to earth against my will?
If i was asked…
If you sought consent
Why does my breathing stop uphill
Why does life draw blood from my veins
Why do my bruises bare their teeth
To laugh at my impending insanity
Maybe i agreed to fall to the earth
Maybe the angel in me saw something glorious within this furnace
If she did…i beg glory to shine through
Before this furnace consumes.
I’m not proofreading this post.
I used to try to be in touch with myself once. I used to take out time to be alone, take out time to pray, write…anything.
Then after that i guess was the phase when everything became too real and taking out time to be alone didn’t feel as good as it did before. I’d try but then all i’d feel was pain. The time to “be alone” wasn’t exactly about being alone anymore it meant facing the pain of everything i was going through. Songs and prayers became tears until I found a way out.
Or not really.
I became someone else. Being alone meant being busy…i couldn’t just “be” anymore. It had to be technology or friends. Noise. Some type of noise…any type of noise was fine. I morphed into someone that didn’t have any pain as much as i could. I morphed into somebody “normal”. Somebody that had left the last two stages behind. Somebody trying new things and craving and looking for new experiences. Somebody I never knew i’d become.
Maybe she was always there…I wouldn’t know. Maybe she was looking for an opportunity to come out and stop feeling and detach from reality. I don’t know.
This new person doesn’t really care anymore or is so used to pretending not to that she doesn’t know where to stop.
This new person can’t talk to God because everything is too complex now.
This new person is lost. Lost in doing anything. Anything other than feeling.
She doesn’t bother telling the world because nobody understands. She’ll tell people that really want to know because they’re curious…but not everything…never everything…only a little.
She doesn’t ever want to become one of those dramatic i-need-attention girls that are always looking for sympathy. She’s over her past (till it haunts her when she’s thinking about how she got here) and feels everyone should be too. She’s over whatever may be happening in her personal life. She’s over herself.
She’s over her past, present and future.
So she’s here…pretending and being.
Until she calls home… and everything falls to pieces again. Only momentarily anyways. She’ll be back to pretending again.
6th day of may 2015.
I’m so stupid explaining to people who will never understand.
I’m done always trying to explain.
If you don’t understand…you most likely will never. So good luck to you.
I’m supposed to be downstairs reading but i’m here licking honey off a knife.
I’m not happy…not because the honey isn’t awesome or because i don’t like sitting here-none of that.
I just hate the fact that life does not allow me to just sit on my bed and BE nothing.
I hate the fact that i’m supposed to get off this bed and read because my exams are in a month and i honestly don’t know anything.
I hate the fact that nobody asked me if i wanted to be here…nobody took the cue when i was crying on Friday the 13th 1993 to shove me back in my Mummy’s tummy.
I can’t just BE and eat ice-cream and watch movies. Thanks to whoever created school and all these things.
I don’t want to read. But i don’t have a choice. And i hate how we’re born without choices. To the smart person who thinks we do…think about it. Doing what you want might be making the wrong choice and the wrong choice has consequences. In my opinion that’s no choice at all.
For instance, you decide to kill the person that makes your life miserable. This will put you in jail or earn you the death penalty. So in reality, you don’t really have a choice.
Lol….all this is because i don’t want to read. How did i even get here? Smh.
I am not a poet. I have no idea what this is. It’s not a poem. It’s a thing :). I‘ll call a thing a thing when we don’t know what it is. It’s inspired by personal experiences.
When you don’t really know who you are yet and have all these things you have planned out for yourself. Like learn languages, travel, diet, do yoga, be awesome. Then that person comes along and your whole journey stops. You forget who you are, where you are, what your name is.
(Like those people in the movies after they’ve been abducted by aliens…which is quite sad because they hardly ever have amnesia…they just don’t take time to absorb their surroundings. whenever you’re abducted by aliens just shut up and look around. you’ll figure out soon enough).
This is a reminder to myself and anyone who understands.
He will leave you…
Leave your smile
Leave every bit of “us” behind
He will call another your name
And look at her just the same
He will leave the him you knew
He will leave you wondering where he went
He’ll evolve into someone better or worse
He might miss you or leave the memories of you cursed
When he does…
You’ll be forced to stare at you again
At your imperfections, your thoughts, your essence
Left with the you you hated
After the clouds are taken away…you’ll be forced to look…at you
At the demon or angel you created
At your self love or self hatred
At places untravelled, things unlearnt, broken pieces…
He will leave you
And you and you will be together again.
I’ve tried and tried to write a blog post, but nothing seems right to me.
Either i’m sounding too sad, I can’t finish a story or I don’t sound smart enough (for myself I mean…like how sad does that sound… I guess nobody starts a blog with the hope of sounding like a dumb blonde).
So i decided not to bother about sounding smart or finishing stuff and just blog.
The title of this blog should be more interesting but these days thinking gets to me. I don’t like to think. This flaw affects almost every part of my life. Anything or anyone that makes me think is evil and no matter how much said person or thing is loved, the universe finds a way of ejecting such from my life.
For someone that hates thinking so much i do a lot of it, and even when the subject matter has been removed, I still think.
I was talking about the title? Yeah i think you get it now.