Thinking. Missing. You.

So many times I think about you. I think about your lips & I want to kiss you. To hold you, when I think about those moments when I have you, when I had you. I wanna hug you. So tight, get fused to you. Angler fish. Your hands, I want to hold them. Your forehead to kiss it. Spank that #$% when you bend it.

I wish to, that I can rewind it over again. Don’t you? Want to step into it with me? How couldn’t you?

I miss you as you’re not here, let’s not even argue about it. I want to dance with you under the sky, the stars are our witness. Your love to me is a weakness. I can’t rest. I am restless. So young and restless. Got me in some sort of love trance. Stuck on replay. Iyaz.

I love you baby, this is the truth that you can’t erase.

The Other Man

In the dead of the night, she twisted & turned until she woke up in a startle. Feeling hot & sweating with a feeling of uncertainty. 

She looked at her companion sleeping next to her. She could only make out his outline in the dark, but the only thing she was sure of was that this wasn’t the man she was in love with. 

She’d thought that she did but now her gut finally opened up to what everyone else knew. She’d fought it but today, tonight, at this moment, she realized the truth. She’d lied to herself. The man that slept alone somewhere else, was actually the one, She, Really, Loved.

Day Six of The Afrobloggers #Winterabc2021. Body-Shaming & Stereotyping

Day 6 here and I about the body-shaming character of our society.

She was a young, small, beautiful girl. Very happy in her petit form. Everyone called her a model. She flaunted and celebrated life in her slimness. To the nursery school, she went, fat people were bullied. All sorts of names were thrown at them. Pigs, gluttons, fatso et al. the clothes were even cheap and easy to find by her mother. She was the flower girl and maid to so many events. She played an angel in her school plays.

But then she joined a mixed high school and the scale tilted. The boys in her school had differing tastes. Some fancied those abundantly endowed at certain parts of their bodies and those that are her size. Slim. What they called figure one. The former, figure eight, hour glass and so forth. It was so many a guy’s dream, to have the flyiest girl in school. The one with the biggest assets or the most curling curves. A many African guy’s definition of a sexy woman and many a time associated with being gashing or squirty. If you know what I mean. Competition to be noticed was always stiff. Your beauty, attitude and skills had to stand for you. Your body, that one automatically spoke for itself.

From high school, she went to higher institutions of learning which is just as well the entrance to adulthood and it just got worse. From girls in her class to adverts and social media, the girls with curves were always celebrated. They got the most whistlers from men in the club, on the streets, even lecturers themselves. Girls in so many music videos were those with the body, the lyrics glorified them. It felt like abandonment. Everywhere, they were given the first choices. And because they were the target of most men, they were the ones with the coolest clothes, latest phones and trends.

The body shape field had tilted immensely now. Her skinniness was now being questioned. It was at worst moments attributed to strange diseases. Stereotypes always came up. That small girls had HIV/AIDS, were sicklers and many others while the big girls were always thought to be healthy. That, “how one could be having a disease yet still maintain that look? Shaa. Impossible” and the guys went in. It was devastating.

And then came the money makers. The business men who had seen this trend and brought on to the market creams, body pads, operations and pills for women to enhance their bodies did not help the matter in any way. In fact, they made it worse. The field turned desperate. Many more and more females went for these and soon, the smallest of the girls were getting bigger and were reaping the ‘benefits’. More men and sexual advances with the offers they brought with the demands. The bonuses that came with having booty changed a lot of a girl’s life.

The small ones felt left out. Those who could not afford these felt the world had turned against them. The big booty girls were running the show. With the way they flaunted their curves, the way they dressed, the way they slayed it on social media and the media offers they got to feature in so many media ads. The men adored them, they worshiped the booty. Those who held influence in offices had places offered to the juicy ones. It was that bad. The field could no longer accommodate the small ones. It was a social annihilation. And then the white man has made Samantha the sex doll and it is the same noticeable thing about it. The booty is voluptuous.

But I only wish they knew that not all men are after the booty but the beauty. Maybe the inner beauty and that actually everyone has someone who loves them the way they are. I hope our society corrects that. Everyone deserves to be loved the way they appear. Men should also know this.

Day 5 Of The Afrobloggers #WinterABC2021What Should be the Mood For Social Media?

Do not post your issues on social media”. It is childish to put your problems out there. Find a way to address them”. This is advocacy & activism week of the #winterABC2021 & we’re post to be standing up for something. Today I am standing up for those who personally & or physically have no one to talk to but social media & against those who always find amusement in shutting them down.
We have come across posts of this kind in our different Social Media. Where people are dictating on others about what to post yet I have never seen it recommended anywhere when I am opening accounts on any social media that “Thou shall only post content where thee are happy so that you can please they? Have you? If you have, please send me the screenshot, the link. I need to be woke.


Therefore, I have come to realize that we our very own selves are the ones that are fueling the depression that we keep trending around. We are the ones that keep asking where humanity is headed to yet we are the ones that keep fuelling it low key. Why are we forcing people to keep up with a lifestyle that they cannot afford? Borrowing clothes to look lit, forcing to hangout in places where they cannot afford to be. Girls sleeping for
tickets to events just to keep up appearances. Like as if there is a prize for having the flyest social media account on line.


How can someone come out seeking help and the best we can do is to tell them that it is childish to bring forth our ‘dark’ issues online. That they are best resolved off of the internet. I thought it’s called social media for a reason not please me media. How does that even work? Where are our hearts? Where is our humanity? The world is destroying itself slowly by slowly. People on suicide through depression and we’re telling people that when they post their issues they are childish? When people come out for help and we tell them that it is childish, so when are we going to help them? What is a mature person supposed to post? I need a memo. Are we even intending to help them? Are we even worthy of being friends? If you cannot help someone then shut the fuck up, scroll away and ignore. You may just as well unfriend them and keep the happy lot that are
entertaining you on your TLs.

Depression is a killer and when someone comes out depressed them you say it ain’t real.
People are out there depressed. People are out there suffering. People are out there fighting their demons and instead of bringing them closer, we are busy calling them childish? Maybe before someone friends you you should tell them to also keep it sunny.


Just because you can silently afford to handle your issues silently doesn’t mean anyone else can. Just because you have contacts that at one click away can help you out doesn’t
mean any one else does. We are not at the same point in life. We do not have the access to the same resources, cool friends and supportive families. Nope. We are different. And so by the time someone comes out for help then it is deep. Then it is real. People are
suffering. People are desperate. People are hurting. People are abused, bruised and stripped. Cheated. Betrayed. People are depressed.
We are destroying ourselves. We are destroying humanity. Discrediting it. So unless we listen and offer some help, we should just shut the fuck up and stop talking about depression any way. Are you the social media police officer in charge of happiness?
For this matter, if you are out there depressed and need someone to listen to you, you can hit me up in my DM. I may not be in position to help you financially or physically but I will listen and talk to you best way I can. I hear “You’re posting childish”. Fuck
you. Yes I am pissed so bad I am boiling. God.

It Must Have Been Love

It Must Have Been Love…When I saw you first & sought you out.
When I knew your flaws & ignored them. Never used them against you. For I was looking at the bigger picture. Of course, that’s of me & you.
I’d looked into my future & placed you there. For what is eternal love if I only wanted to live it for that moment? I saw you in my lifetime. For that is love if I can keep it for a life time.

It must have been love. When I kissed your lips & let myself drown in your
romance. Damn. How my heart sank with emotion for how I longed to be swept away with romance, to hear those words. Their depth. Their meaning. The faith they spring. A beacon of hope. Their sincerity. Their effect on a heart that’s longing to be loved. Mine.

It must have been love when I defended your mistakes. How I gave allowance to time thinking you’d change. A hope to things going back to how they post to be. I thought your errors were to be corrected & as blind as they say love is, my eyes failed to see the end of things till it was too late & now what I thought was true love is over. Roxette.