They often say that sleeping with multiple partners is sickening, but then fucking with multiple hearts is life threatening.
So… I guess my situation is deadly.
Not to me of course but the hearts I’m fucking with.
It isn’t by choice but by default.
See… I never really ask them to fall for me and I always warn them about trusting me with their hearts but they never listen anyway.
Thing is that they always feel the need to give themselves to me. Drop everyone and imprison your heart within the “BlaQed” walls and hope that she actually keeps your heart safe within those walls.
…because now your heart is not to share with the world but to give to her.
So… now I actually walk around with heavy pockets. Full of people’s hearts, because now my awesomeness has earned me the right to fucking with multiple hearts.
Call us: “The three master tears” because we’ve mastered these tears.
Forget our human rights or how fragile and sensitive we are because now these guys have never and will never ever consider that shit.
See…thing is that our strength lies in our tears and those tears are the loudest tones to our unheard voices.
…but then how do you expect the world to listen when your cry is not loud enough to stop everyone from doing what they’re doing and just listen?
To the world we nag, to ourselves we yearn to be heard, understood and cared for.
…because now all our lives we’ve cried and mastered these tears.
Thing is… These guys will never understand me.
See… I’m one who requires a man to want to know me. I want him to take his time when it comes to getting to know me.
Drop everyone and focus on me if that’s what it takes.
Cut all your ties and let your life depend on me if you have to.
Hide your tail and seek my tales because now getting to know me is very important.
…but then he chose to skip all that and depend on his thoughts about me. He chose to assume and hope that his assumptions are actually on point.
See… Now, the only time he took in efforts to knowing me was judging me and actually classifying me with the rest.
So in his mind, I’m a pessimist.
Nothing less than a lady carved off hardship.
…but then now try and understand that his only problem was my independence.
See…My independence was too selfish to allow him an advance to a stage where taking care of me was his everyday goal.
My independence was too self made to weaken and break down.
…because now everything I make, I perfect.
So…me being independent enough to find it hard to allow him to take control in my life pained him to the core and earned me my right to being a pessimist.
I’ve stopped meeting guys and have now allowed them the luxury of meeting me.
It doesn’t make sense. I know!
…but then think about it. What I’m saying is that. The smile I once flashed their way has now turned into a very unwelcoming stare that sends out a threatening message on some: “dare to approach me and die.”
My heart warming greetings are now diluted into blunt “this is the beginning and the ending of our conversation” hi’s.
“I ain’t got no time for no random chancer.” Is what I preach to my lonely self all the time.
…but then this time around, with no intention to meet him, he actually met me.
With a lustful zest of wanting to be in complete control of my independence he met me. With an intention to hook me with his riches and make my independence his playground he met me.
Once independent – now dependent. Once a despiser of gold – now a digger of gold.
Call me a golddigger!
See…He saw me and he heard about me and decided to take a chance.
…and then stupid me had him winning and allowing him the change.
Allowing him to change my independence into his playground.
Flashing credit cards before my eyes like they ain’t nothing, throwing his money at me like it changes nothing and spoiling me with gifts like my life depends on it.
His words: “You’re only 19 and independence is not essential. You need to be taken care of and I’ve seen an angel in you… Now allow me to treat you like one. Your independence ends here.”
Pure balderdash if you ask me.
I stand with those who stand for independence and I shall fight for my own.
I wish I could learn how to love you but now you’ve flashed your wallet before my eyes and not my knees but now my greed has gone weak.
I don’t know much about love but I know an awesome lot about teaching so would you allow me to teach you about love?
Mine will be the hand that colours the skies yellow if that’s what brightens up your day and if the clouds dare cloud in I’ll punch them right in the face reminding them of their place in our world.
Mine will be the voice that will whisper sweet nothings to your highly deserving self and if anything dares to bother you, I’ll simply sing it away with my terribly sweetened voice.
My eyes will be the map that guides yours into a world of laughter and happiness and if sadness dares to invade that space, I’ll simply smile it out of our world.
My words will be words that inspires hope into your thoughts and if my actions dare change how you feel and what you think about love, I’ll simply excuse myself out of your life and pray to God you never get to see me again.
So… what I’m really asking is that you actually allow me to love you and we’ll both learn what love really is!
Last night I had a dream, and in my dream I formed part of a school of ladies marching and carrying feminine posters. Screaming “LADIES ARE US!”.
See…In my mind we’re all different and there’s like a million shades of us but in my dream we were all the same and the pink only came in one shade. I think what camouflaged our differences from my sight was our common goal and urge to be understood and respected for who we are.
Don’t get me wrong y’all… It was only just a dream but in reality I am not a lady but a woman and all my heart’s desires are of those who chose to deprive themselves of all the nicest things in the world and long for success.
…and I always say that I grew up in the presence of a system of women who form an orchestra of hard work that aligns itself with success.
Call them a million strings with one common courtesy.
So I had to make sure that I am with the rest and not one of the rest. I had to make sure that even with me screaming with them my voice is heard, I had to make sure that even with me walking with them I am seen and even with the same shade as the rest I had to stand out, shine and be noticed.
…because unlike the rest, my goal is not to be seen but to always be remembered. Even in my absence I want to be present.
Now…back to the dream!
See… In my dream we only marched for one goal and our goal was to be understood and accepted for who we are.
We expect men to understand that we’re women who never know what they want but always want it anyway. We expect them to anticipate our needs and always know what we want when we don’t.
We need them to understand that we’re sensitive and we need them to be strong for us.
We need them to understand that we want it all and we want it now.
See…In my dream we marched and screamed. Hoping to be seen and longing to be heard.
….but then it was only just a dream and my femininity would never allow me to march and scream.
This blog is one with no title, no beginning and no ending. It has a set of undefined system of strings and broken bridges.
It is one with no intentions and purpose.
It’s a blog with my unpolished and untamed thoughts.
This blog is a random post.
As we sit here, relaxing in the park. Planning our future with our eyes and confessing our love with empty gestures embedded in our shyly flashed smiles.
I beg you to allow me this kiss. See…I’ve been staring at you for hours, wondering if you’d ever love me as much as I love you and that you’d ever feel the need to embrace that love without fear and promises made.
I wonder if you can ever want me as much as I want you without plans and thoughts about tomorrow.
Our days will be the dance floor, our decision the dance routine and you’ll allow me to take the lead.
I promise to be patient and not too quick.
See… If you trust me enough we won’t need any rehearsals.
So… I beg you to allow this kiss. Let me lead you to the dance floor, allowing us to dance our lives away.