Category Archives: Uncategorized

I’m 24 years old and I’m not voting.


I’m a 24-year-old from Mamelodi and I’m not voting.

I am not voting because I am angry. I am angry at the country’s failure to take our pain seriously. I am angry because our apparent “South Africa for all” has failed to be for me.

I have decided not to vote because I know nothing ever changes and our struggles only get heightened.

I am a victim of political failure and it hurts because I was supposed to be born-free but our asthmatic democracy has made fun of our faith in the system.

Our alleged democracy has taken our dreams by the neck in attempts to show us all that we think we deserve but can never have.

“Born-free” a rhetoric, hyperbole. Created for us the youth of South Africa, only to keep us holding on to a dream that was never meant for us.

Just so you know, we are barely holding on.

With all the crimes against our humanity, poor education systems, unemployment and lack of opportunities we are barely holding on.

Speaking for myself and no-one else. The now “South Africa for all” system has failed me. Not once, not twice but for all my born-free democratic-two decades and a half-years, or should I say life? Because it actually has been that long.

My mom has never been employed, my parents have had to always sleep with one eye open because… My God the crime and injustice in our townships is out of hand.

I was never allowed to play with other kids outside my yard because it has never been safe for children in South Africa and democracy has made it worse.

Schools are not safe, so growing up we had to be taught all these survival mechanisms because school grounds and school premises are battlefields.

Not only are we at war for an education we deserve, we’re also at war to keep our virginity, we’re fighting to be kept safe and to be protected.

We’re fighting to be understood, we’re fighting to be taken seriously, we’re at war to be allowed to be ourselves and not to be discriminated against, because of our skin colour, sexual orientation and all the other things we cannot change about ourselves.

Our healthcare systems are terrible, women’s healthcare is only just a fairy-tale.

I will never forget how the justice has been failing me. It failed me when I was robbed and almost raped by a taxi driver who was supposed to get me home safely.

I had to fight for my life and I was dumped in the middle of nowhere, at night, in winter.

The horror of going to the police to report such an incident and being laughed at still haunts me. It still breaks my heart how funny it was to grown men to have me aching for help, it destroyed me.

…and now I have to live my life knowing that I’ll always run into the men who did this to me simply because under this democracy of ours, we still have people who are above the law.

Our born-free democracy has handed our freedom to criminals. Voices of those who need to tell their horror stories are not heard. The only voices that get heard are of those who were silenced forever, those who did not survive murder and rape but only have their names on hashtags and placards speaking for them.

In my South Africa our lives do not matter. We only matter when we are victims who become statistics they lyricize during elections in ought to sell us dreams of what they can prevent from happening, only if we VOTE FOR THEM.

So, I am sorry, I am not voting because if in South Africa voices do not matter, then our silence should be loud enough to speak for us.


Bonsai techniqued!


They thought clipping my wings would make me earthbound, but it only emancipated my urge to fly away.

They thought caging me up would stop me from growing, but what they didn’t know is that a simple cage could not serve as a bonsai technique and that I could never be bonsai’d, so it only made my inner self reach its full potential.

They thought taping my lips would shut me up but now the words are in my head and my fingers served has interpreters of my speech because I long to be heard, they could never silence me.
They scarred my face and thought that with these scars I wouldn’t be seen but what they didn’t know is that my presence is felt before it can be seen and that all these scars can never change the thought of my presence when I chose to avail myself.
I believe that God placed me on this earth for a reason.
With my bubbly personality to revive weary emotions, my smile to give hope to hopeless souls, my hands to touch life into dying spirits and my words to guide those searching for the truth they’ll never find.
I believe I was brought into this world to show people the light they thought they could never own, to give them a taste of love they only read about in books and the happiness they only sang about.
…and personally I would like to help them feel the freedom they’re too afraid to dream of, touch the love they’re too shy to wish for and grasp a reality they thought only exists in their minds.
Let them know it’s not an idea but a possibility that could be brought to life.

I can never be bonsai’d!

Conversations with myself.


Having conversations with myself because only I can understand the pain I’m feeling inside.

Having conversations with myself because only I can relate to what’s going on in the inside.

I feel no need to go and seek one who’ll sit down and try to understand my situation because mine is for those who’ll choose to stand by my side and overstand it from the outside.
I’m not crazy I’m just different.

2 decades old and I still haven’t touched love.


I really don’t know if I’ve been a little too blind, too ignorant or simply too naive to even see what love is in my life or even to me.

…but then again I think my innocence had me looking for love only in the comfort of my own home and nowhere else and my pain embellished fear has forbidden me from taking off the blindfold that has helped turn a blind eye against love for so long because my heart was never really ready to get hurt and actually feel pain.

See…the closest I ever got to being “in love” was finding best friends and promising that I’ll never ever leave their sight.
Dedicating my life to keeping them happy and praying to God that I never do anything to encourage them to leave my sight because I simply know that without them in my life I’ll never survive.

…and the closest I ever got to learning about what love is, was from reading tons of novels on love. Hopeless, I know!

But then you see…my fear of falling in love and actually being loved has saved me about a million times from heartbreak.

Meeting and falling for all these appetizing personas and praying to God that it’s only just a dream and I’d wake up from it or simply accepting that I’m only human and all that is only tailored to happen and that the only way to deal with the situation is to snap out and realize that love is not for me.

Simple Wish!


I wish I could wish for a fairy tale but then in my dreams our tale is one with no end and I’d love to keep it that way.

For now all I can pray for is finding a real man in you. A real man who’ll stand against all odds, ignore what the world has to say and strive to keep a smile on my “potholed” face.

A man who’ll allow me to take my time when it comes to learning how to love him like I should.

In you? In you I want to find a man who’ll send me flowers and handwritten notes, reminding me of the love he’ll always have for me.
In you I want to find a man who’ll turn me into a hopeful romantic, reminding me of the love I’ll never lose for him.

So what do I do? Come on tell me, what do I do? Do I wait for you to notice that I’ve been waiting for you to rescue me from this SINGLE life and call me your own?
Do I let you know that you’re that one guy, the only one I’ll ever want?


Inevitable growth


I really don’t know if it’s growth or simply a series of events that have decided to align themselves with each other, motivating each other to happen and simply awaiting turns.

Sounds silly, I know!

…but then here’s what’s up. You know how I’ve always hated men and every ounce of who they are? Well lately I seem to keep forgetting that I’m that kind of person.

See…lately I find myself attracted to a wide variety of these -in my world- senseless personers (men).

I mean I seem to notice every little detail about them, even though I’m sometimes left feeling a little perverty. From their kissable, I mean biteable lips, cute eyes, perfect height, sexy walk…etc

I think this “men” analyzing business is becoming a hobby and undressing them with my eyes is slowly becoming a habit. I mean, what the hell?

…and there’s a wide variety of them hey. I mean the person who came up with the “all men are the same” idea must have been blind as hell. Come on sistah. How the heck do you miss out on such awesomeness?
Now I actually do believe that “there’s a lot of fish in the sea”.

I really don’t know if this is just a passing phase, an undeniable stage in my life, the new/real me or if it’s simply inevitable growth but I know I like it.

…because these scars were meant to stick.


I could never understand why you keep beating me up and then apologize as if the “sorry” will remove the scars on my face.

I could never figure out what goes on your mind every time you raise your fist in ought to bash some discipline into my ever-struck bruise embellished face.

Isn’t the fear in my eyes enough for you to know how much I respect you?
Isn’t my silence quiet enough for you to understand that you rule over me and there’s nothing I can ever say to you in attempts to disrespect what you stand for?

All the make-up in the world could never be enough to hide all these scars, because your scars were never meant to heal but to stick.-You know sometimes I ask myself if you’re doing all this to prove that my beauty was meant for your eyes only and now you’ve finally managed to destroy all of it and I’m now pretty useless to those who’ll want to see the beauty I posses or maybe you’re the only guy for me and no one else should ever notice me?-

I mean all the clothes in the world could never be enough to cover all the bruises that bedazzle my pain infused once sacred but now profane body.

All the lies I’ve told have left me questioning my sanity. I mean no sane person could keep walking into a door they’ve lived with forever. No sane person could keep slipping and hitting the door handle.

How did you get so heartless? All my screams go unheard, all my cries go unfelt and my pleads are simply in vain.

You almost had me fooled, believing that taking your beatings means I’m feeling your love and that all the anger is caused by my flaws.

You had me staying up all day and night trying to perfect myself for a beast who never even noticed my efforts. The more I fixed myself it’s the more you got angry and the more you got angry I had to tolerate the abuse in hopes that you’ll one day wake up a better man and we’ll live happily ever after.

…but I’m really sorry man. All the beatings I can’t take no-more, all the make-up I can’t afford no-more and all these clothes I can’t stand no-more because the heat is simply unbearable.

Staying with you is some sort of suicidal attempt.
…because about a million times I’ve choked on my screams,
because about a thousand times I’ve drowned in my tears and about a hundred times I’ve hanged my precious soul with the pain caused by your anger and hatred.

I’ve been waiting for you to change and go back to being that Golden Man of mine for way too long and now waiting seems too impossible because to you change seems a bit too out of reach.

I’m really sorry but I’m done being your punching bag and don’t you dare say sorry because that sorry of yours will never remove all these emotional, mental and physical scars caused by your doubtful manliness.

This is my goodbye and I pray to God that this one’s forever because now all my efforts will go into erasing every ounce of who you once were to me.

A bunch of flowers and a hand written note.


A bunch of flowers and a hand-written note. That’s a yes-brainer really.

I mean this is me, sitting here and thinking to myself why I just can’t have all that anymore.
Is it really too much to ask for?

Just a simple hand-written note and a bunch of flowers, reminding me of how awesome and worthy I am in someone’s eyes.

It would really drive me crazy, just to have a bunch of flowers addressed to me and a hand-written note with a couple of empty gestures describing his love for me.

Yes… I’m not a fan of the whole lovey dovey enchilada but hey… I’m also allowed to get me some loving from a distance.

So now I’m on a quest…on a quest to find me a hope-full romantic who’ll be blinded enough by love to see the price that comes with sending a girl like me a bunch of flowers accompanied with a hand-written note.

Nigga could easily have me heart dropping to its knees and me diamond picking brains jumping out of place with excitement.

So…now I’ll just hope and pray that God blesses me with a hopeful romantic who’ll feel the urge to send me a bunch of flowers and a hand-written note on a regular.

Love at first sight.


I had never thought that one day I might be someone’s “love at first sight”.
A movie cliché thingy if you ask me.

…but then again life is simply a humongous series of clichés on its own.

So… It happened and I was someone’s “love at first sight”. It’s a bit funny how I could have never noticed it if he hadn’t actually brought it up, because I simply don’t believe in “love at first sight”.
I mean what the hell?

Coming to think of it. It actually happens a lot lately and now it has me wondering and surfing between waves of confusion, trying to figure out if it’s coincidental, insane or simply imaginative. Maybe these guys are simply toying with my thoughts in hopes of gaining an advance to my emotions.

…but then this particular guy is one of a kind. I think it’s even safe enough for me to say that… Like wine, he also gets better with time. issues with men had me hating on every ounce of who he was at first, the beauty he possesses remained unseen in my eyes and every effort he made was like adding insult to injury. Giving me an untamed urge to grab a gun and blow his head off.
I mean how dare he attempt to walk into my life and invade my space like that? suffocating me with his awesomeness and all.
I guess he was my “love at first sight” after all.

…but now my stubbornness always fails to accept and do with that fact that like any other human being I also fall in love and unlike most… When I do it becomes dangerously in love.

See… When he first saw me he knew that he had fallen in love but when I saw him I thought I had fallen in hate.

All his efforts became attempts of making me feel worthy and special but all my efforts became attempt of making him fell less important and worthless, because in my mind I could never let a man I’ve fallen in love with into my life because when he ever decides to leave the pain would be immensely unbearable.

So… He chose to let me know that he saw me once and fell for me about a million times and I just wish I could care less because in my mind “love at first sight” is insanity.

A million love letters and I’m still on my own.


So… I sat down. Writing it over and over on a piece of paper and using capital letters in hopes that it sinks in and actually make sense.


Coming to think of it. It’s an emptied bold statement that sums up my love life in simple text. A very ironic situation if you ask me and I’ve found a way to live with it.

Sometimes I even doubt that love exists. I mean even great men who’ve written about it have failed to explain what it is.
Even I who counts herself amongst the great has failed to understand it and my definitions keep contradicting themselves.

So I chose to ignore. Exclude myself from the culture of falling in love and wanting to be part of those who feel the need to belong.
…and don’t get me wrong y’all.

This isn’t because I chose to but because I have to. I mean even if love was to smack me right in between my eyes I could never notice it because for years love has knocked and I’ve failed to answer.

Some say it’s fear, some say it’s preference and I always say that it’s time and the universe working against each other and causing unpleasant frequencies encouraging me to shy away from what’s known to be “good enough” for me.

So all those love letters a.k.a proposals have been flooding in and I’m still on my own because I’ve decided to turn a blind eye and ignore.