A Post of Sorts

*attempts to clear dust and cobwebs* :| *sits on newspaper instead*

My country peepu!! Happy October!!! It haff tey since I was here. But we're glad to be back. Yes, yes! We are!

WARNING: This post contains information that may or may not be your business. It will be frightfully long and incredibly boring and most likely disjointed as my thought pattern right now is starving (as is my stomach). I will also attempt to be funny. And I will be advertising blogs. Why? Because I can. Feel free to close the page now. Or bear with me :)

So! This post was supposed to go up on the first. It didn't because, as you must have realised, I'm just writing it. I thought maybe it would be cool to put it up on the 8th. You know? Cuz it'll be exactly one month since my last entry. As a badt goizes :D But, I'm awake now, so why wait?

Now. Why haven't I written in the past month? Well, honestly, for a number of reasons. I will not pin the blame solely on writers' block. Nope. I'm going to give as much detailed information as I possibly can. :) why? Because I can.

Firstly, my writing skill/technique/style/whatever was being questioned. You see, I'm probably the most insecure writer on blogsville. *sigh* Yes. So, when my piece on Decades II went up, and a certain someone (who shall be named later) said he reads my stories like a mills and boon novel, my insecure self zoned in on that. Didn't help when someone now said "I tire from the topics woven common within your stories". Can you imagine? :| So, I decided to do some soul searching. I did! I really did! And do you know what happened? I started questioning myself and my writing. It wasn't a small something oh! And then even though almost everyone kept telling me my stuff is okay, I went ahead and tried something different. The result. I sent in a piece I wasn't ultimately comfortable with for The Writer's Round-A-Bout and nobody liked it. It killed my soul :(

So, I kept thinking. "What should I write about?" Aliens and Sci-fi stuff definitely out already :( I thought maybe I could write about my many kitchen adventures. Like my super sexy noodles that you'd die to try :D , or the time I left a pot of rice on the fire and went out for about 10 hours :| , or maybe how I have to wrap my hands in like three nylon bags before I even consider touching tatase. OR I could write about how some people don't know when to visit people. Like my cousin who packed her entire household (husband, 6 children and a maid) to my house without calling anyone first. :| Or annoying guests who come to the house and ask me to cook for them *yimz* because I resemble house girl in training. *sigh* so many things to write about...

But, after giving it some serious thought, this is what I've concluded in my mind.

I can't do rants as awesomely as @miafarradaily. I'm not even remotely as funny as @Sirkastiq, who actually had people crying when he put up his last post *rme*. I actually thank God for small mercies like not being as mentally unbalanced as @Terdoh. I don't do deep, or dark and twisted, or gore like the afrosays team (@xoAFRO & @UberBetty) that get like 20 "deep" comments on a post, or @weird_oo. I'm not as opinionated as @Qurr whom I love for his ability to intricately weave an interesting piece no matter what it's about. Even his comments sef...Always keep my dictionary open. And, I love bible stories, but I simply can't write about them. Not as interestingly as @tomboxe anyway. I definitely can NOT do love posts like @bule_jr who has taken it upon himself to tackle the world's relationship problems and what-not. None shall rival the queen of sadness @Ms_Dania, and I can't churn out long, kinda confusing, sometimes boring, albeit awesomely written, posts like @ekwem. I don't even want to talk about @thetoolsman or @AlchemistXIII -_- And even though I love to read @awizii's stuff, it mostly reminds me how sucky my attempts at poetry are.

Why did I fill that paragraph with links to people's blogs? Because I can.

Seriously though. These are some of the writers that inspire me. I'd love to write about what they write about, but I can't. Why? Because it's their thing. Not mine.

I write about sex, and threesomes and abuse, etc etc because I'm a virgin like my dear friend, @OlaToxic, and I would really like to get some. :|

But really. Everyone has stuff they're comfortable with writing. This is mine. And although I do try to branch out, I'm very slowly coming to terms with the fact that this just might be my niche. Yeah. So, I'd like my writing to be accorded the same respect I give everyone else's. I accept constructive criticism and the likes, but if you really do find my writing boring, and predictable, and such, I wouldn't like you to keep enduring such torture. Don't read it. It really isn't by force. I read as much posts as I can. If I find it boring along the way, I stop instead of straining my brain. It's really that simple.

But for those who keep coming back, I really am working on something I think maybe might be a little different. And it's going to feature other writers I really respect like @nwaokpoechi, @d3ola, @Aeda_, @Phatiei, @rhaiharnah, @UberBetty, and some other surprise writers :D (yaaay!)

Oh. And appaz, @Reine_LaGlace liked my blog enough to give me an award. Not sure what award it is, or what I'm supposed to do with it (would've preferred cash), but I'm shallow enough to accept it gracefully :D. So, I'm supposed to post a link to the blog of the person who gave me the award (which I've done), say something about myself (please refer to 30 Facts About Me), and then pass the award on to some other bloggers. I think I've covered that. Save a few blogs that I'll link in the next part of this amazing cool story.

So, thus ends my blog exile.

Does this mean my writing will improve? I hope so. Not making any promises though.

But sha, it's very likely that this might be my last blog post. :(
I said 'might' oh! But... *sigh*

Now...

The past couple of months have been rough for me. Lots of complications, emotions flying everywhere, decisions to make... *sigh* But God has been my strength and my comfort :). He's been awesome to me. Honestly. And he's given me such amazing friends who stuck with me, and kept me from going insane, and making stupid decisions and what-not.

Yes, I'm one of those people who live online. So, yeah. I know not everyone you meet on twitter/facebook/yahoo chat rooms/blogsville is your friend. But honestly, I've met THE MOST AMAZING people on twitter/blogsville, and I can proudly say they are the most awesome friends anyone could ask for :)

So, this is saying "Thanks" to @MrOmidiran and @d3ola (who've been with me through it all), @Aeda_, @ibetapassmynebo (my love), my darling @FreshPrinzVick, @bule_jr, @HL_Blue, @Ms_Dania, @MallamSawyerr, @OlaToxic, @Immortal_Teddy, @bolufisher, @nwaokpoechi, @AyoB_, @xoAFRO, @thetoolsman, @awizii, @Mz_Smiler, @9ineBz, my mum @Chidioma, and @AlchemistXIII for being there directly and indirectly. Talking to me, and checking on me, and praying, and just being there when I needed/need to rant. You guys are awesome. I can't forget to thank the love of my life, <3 Ribena <3

If I forgot anyone, I'm sorry.

Because of all the love and support the beautiful people listed above have shown me, I can look at my darling princess, who's one month old today, and smile :D because I know I made the right choice. She's the best birthday present I could have ever hoped or asked for. (Yeah, I had her a day before my birthday ^_^)
You: OMG! You had a baby?! :o
Me: *wears cool shades* Yes boss!
You: Stop lying jhor!
Me: *sigh* no one ever believes me :(
You: But you're a virgin na
Me: :| I know
I will not put up her picture, or write her name here because, quite honestly, some of you scare me. :|. Seriously. But you may refer to her as "Ori Nri II"

I haven't been as absent as I would like y'all to believe. Been reading all the blogs I'm subscribed to. Opening links and what-not. Reading your timelines *shudder*. Some of your comments on some posts... Too much salt. Mhen! Y'all need to calm your titties! I'm sure most of you know the blog I'm talking about. However, I will not dignify them by posting their link here.

Some people need to stop taking posts p. Unless you see something along the lines of "this is based on a true story" somewhere in the post, please stop acting like it's about your uncle's wife's aunty's third cousin's neighbour. Those sooth sayers who predict the end of stories, I hope they're paying you well for that job. And those who bash posts and start fights in the comments section, more grease to your elbows :)

In fact. You know what? I'm gonna pass on this award to every blogger I follow. You know why? Because I've seen something worth taking note of on every blog I've seen. Sure, some stories are drab or not well edited, or poorly constructed. But if we keep knit picking at everything and putting people down, you might just crush the dreams of the next John Grisham, or Nora Roberts, or Frank Perreti or something. You know? So, instead of beating people down, offer constructive criticism.

So, this award goes out to..

@Adm3on
@CapoeiraPanda
@ChykElfarooq_RJ
@cikk0
@darkpoet_
@MsCantFindAName
The members of PTS
@nugwatweets
@SlevinCalevra
@AOT2
@TurieMac who actually has two blogs.
@Griffinstreaks
@SheriphSkills
@Sandie_Pandie

These are the ones I could think of off the top of my head. But, feel free to post links to your blogs in the comments section, cuz this is for you too.

I'm sorry, I don't have a fave blog, or a fave writer. Everyone brings something different, so I can't really decide *Cece shrug*.

This piece pretty much sums up what I've been trying to say.

I'm getting bored. Peace out. (‾⌣‾)♉

SIDENOTE: Those whose blogs were publicized should expect my bill shortly.
Feel free to RT this link.

Tobi

“What exactly are you saying, Mrs. Ibekwe?” my wife, MaryAnn, asks the principal in that soft, calm, barely audible voice that had attracted me to her in the first place. She seems to be well in control of the situation, and thus I have resigned myself to watching and silently gauging the situation. I haven't yet felt the need to speak. Maybe if things got a bit more escalated....

I shoot a side glance at my daughter, standing between her mother and myself, fingers clasped in front of her, head bent low, staring at her feet. She's obviously trying really hard to look remorseful, but I know she's cooking up something in that mind of hers. I can almost see the wheels turning in her skull. The amount of intelligence my daughter possesses is far too advanced for her age, in my opinion. And, in as much as the outstanding academic performance that this intelligence yields makes me proud, it sometimes gives me cause to worry. This is one of those times.

Whatever she's scheming, a part of me knows I am the focal point. My darling MaryAnn is hardly the disciplinarian. She seldom ever yells, and never raises a hand to any of the children no matter how upset they make her. Well, at least not with Tobi. Admittedly, I am largely to blame.

Tobi is our youngest of seven girls. Yes, seven girls. As much as I'm ashamed to admit it, my actions and some words may have pushed MaryAnn to keep trying for a boy. When she conceived the seventh time, I was certain the child was male. Call me stupid, but I went ahead and got prepared without even so much as a confirmation ultrasound.

The delivery day was a punch bowl of emotions for me. I dare say I was even more anxious than my wife, who was simultaneously screaming and breathing. I stood next to her and held her hand while she pushed. I don't remember how she ended up in my arms. I simply remember the doctor announcing "It's a girl.", and then feeling something I couldn't quite describe as I held her against me.

I held her in my arms, and resolved that she would be my treasure. The one to end my waiting and fill the hole I'd left open, for what seemed like a millennium, in expectation of a male offspring. Nothing I bought was returned or put in storage. I'd spent good money in preparation for a son, and God forbid I let it waste.

Access to Tobi was restricted. I had a business to run, so I had to set up an office at home just to ensure she was constantly under my supervision. No creche or kindergarten, I was Tobi's tutor. Why waste perfectly good money on those ridiculously exorbitant babysitters when I could teach her all she would need to know myself? I selfishly kept Tobi to myself, away from her sisters, and time with her mum was the bare minimum.

Work started taking a toll on me, and I had to enroll her in a primary school. But I made sure she was thoroughly engaged with sporting activities, and I continued to spend all my free time with her. Showering her with trips and gifts, and spoiling her against my better judgment.

I taught her as well. To be strong, physically and otherwise, assertive, and hard working. I taught her what it means to be a man. To know what she wants and go for it. To never back down, never show fear. I built her. I thought I could mold her into the son I'd always wanted.

Most of this molding occurred on camping trips I started taking her on when she was eight. Sadly, it was also on one of these camping trips that things started to go awry.

Being with me all the time, Tobi had seen and heard a lot of things. Most of which she shouldn't have. I'd noticed she'd started behaving inappropriately, but brushed it off. At most, I scolded her on few occasions. That particular night during our camping trip is easily my worst memory. Thinking about it now sends chills down my spine.

At bedtime she complained of being cold, so I'd invited her to come share my sleeping bag. Waking up in the middle of the night to my baby grinding her naked body against me was beyond shocking. I'd stared in disbelief for a couple of seconds before addressing her. When did she take her clothes off? And why are my shorts pulled down? "Tobi, what are you doing?"
"I'm so cold, daddy. I'm just trying to get warmer."
"Where are your clothes?". Silence. "Tobi! I asked you a question."
"In the corner."
"Tobi, stop this right now and go put your clothes on."
"No."
"No?" Needless to say, I was beyond shocked. Tobi had never disobeyed me.
"No. I want you to teach me" And then I felt her tiny hands close around me. "Like the girls in those videos you watch."
My baby was jerking me off. I should have pulled away. I shouldn't even have been hard. But I was. And I was enjoying the feel of those soft, little palms slowly sliding up and down my shaft. And then, I made the single biggest mistake of my entire life. I whispered in her ear as my hand slid round her and cupped her mound. "You can't tell your mum, or anyone at all, about this.".
"I know, daddy. And you're mine now."

She'd gone on to torture me with guilt and threats from that day on. I was potty in her hands, and she bent me to her every whim and desire.

Getting her to go off to boarding school was the absolute worst. I'd pretended to be against it, but was glad my wife was insistent. Convincing Tobi was the difficult part. Eventually, she gave in when I told her people would suspect there was some inappropriate relationship going on between us if she stayed home.

Now, here we are.

My mind is drawn back to the present, and I watch Tobi intently. She's avoiding eye contact. Tapping her feet. “Tobi.” She looks up at me. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
“Daddy, I’m sorry. But I really like Anari. I didn’t mean to upset anyone.” The look in her eyes are defiant. Like she's secretly daring me to punish her. I'd taught her too well.

My wife starts to mumble something about her speaking nonsense and the principal is going on about one punishment or the other. I think she's suggesting suspension. But all that didn’t matter. My eyes are locked on Tobi's. Without her uttering a word, I know. This is her revenge for being sent away. Now, she was daring me to keep her away. Knowing there would be hell to pay for the decision I'm about to make, I paste a smile on my face and look up at the principal. “That won’t be necessary,” I said. And then I turned to her. “Tobi, go pack your things. We’re leaving.”

***************************************************************************************

Hi. So, I'm here again with my monthly post. This was kinda inspired by my contribution to decades II. Some of the comments made me decide to attempt to write it from the father's perspective. He's supposed to be the victim. I'm not sure how well I've portrayed this, which is why I'm putting this after the story. I wanted you to read it, and have your own individual, unpolluted thoughts about it.

So, please leave your unbiased comments below. I'd really appreciate it as I'm trying to broaden my scope (that's the correct phrase, ba?). Thanks.

Midnight Guests

Hello! :D

So, I promised I'd put something up at least once a week while I'm gone. Think of this piece as a show of good faith (or whatever the phrase is). It a sequel of sorts to a previous post. For those who don't remember (I don't want to imagine you didn't read it), here's the link A Thief In The Night. I really advise you read it before this one, but... *shrug*

So, yeah. I don't really know what prompted me to write this, but I did. So I hope you at least enjoy it a bit.

Later luvies *kilzes*
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Nelly Furtado was singing softly in the background for my personal entertainment, as I lay stretched out on my bed.. It was late, and I really wanted to be asleep, but the sandman had been stingy with his dust, and agro is a pissed off female dog. And dear Nelly, sweetly cooing to me, couldn't be asking any question more appropriate for the mood I was in. Why do all good things come to an end? About two months ago, I'd embarked on a late night adventure that hand scored me some serious booty. But that night, I laid there alone and horny.

It had all started when I wanted to purchase the PSP Go. I'd been anticipating a sharp decline in it's exorbitant price, and had finally gotten a good deal. I'd quickly withdrawn my savings and collected from all my debtors, but I was still a bit short. As a last resort, I'd turned to my cousin, Deola. Before asking, I'd made sure she had the money buy going through her wallet, so I wouldn't be asking for too much. Deola had lived with us since she lost her parents when we were still in secondary school. She was kinda like my older sister, but we didn't necessarily always get along.

I can not perfectly describe my feelings when she said "No." without looking up from the magazine she was reading. No excuses, explanations or apologies offered, just open rejection. I sat across from her at the kitchen table, stunned, upset and furious. I daresay my decision to steal the money was immediate. If she wouldn't give it to me, I would take it. What was she doing with money anyway? Nothing was coming between me and my gaming.

And so I bid my time, waiting for the perfect opportunity, and then I struck. I'd successfully sneaked into her room and taken the money, and was about to leave, when things got a bit out of hand. To cut a long story short, that night changed a lot of things between Deola and I. We began an affair of sorts. I started making frequent midnight visits to her room whenever I needed to take a load off, or whenever she text to say she needed me, and we would help each other out, the thrill of getting discovered by the parents making it all the more exciting.

We continued this relationship of convenience for weeks, and all was dandy. She never complained, and, as far as I knew, neither of us expected more than sex from the other. So, imagine my surprise when she cut me off. First, the texts stopped coming. I'd just assumed she wanted me to keep coming down whenever I felt like, and didn't dwell on it. Then she started giving me excuses whenever I went to see her. It was either her period, she was tired, or she had one pain or the other. It finally dawned on me what had happened the night I went down and met her room door locked. I knew better than to push the issue, and had returned to my room, dejected.

I sighed as memories of nights we'd spent together flooded my mind. The sounds, the smells, the amazing feelings, it was all too much and my hardening rod felt the same way. The only way I was going to get any sleep was by helping myself out it seemed, so I picked up my PSP Go, browsed through my collection of porn, applied some lotion, and let my hand get to work. It wasn't long before my eyes were closed and I was lost in my own fantasies of driving into Deola's wet tightness. Stroking myself as precum oozed out, I moaned her name several times. Softly at first, and then a bit louder. Secretly hoping she would somehow hear me and come to my aid.

"I'm here." At first, I thought it was in my head, but then my eyes flew open when I felt warmth around the tip of my rod. There she was, standing by my bed, all smiles and sparkling, lust-filled eyes. I glanced down and saw the cause of the warmth I was still feeling. Her friend, Anwuli, was at work on my shaft, sucking tenderly. I couldn't believe it. I opened my mouth to ask what they were doing, but Deola's lips were on mine before I could utter any words. Tasting the alcohol on her tongue as she kissed me, I got the idea. I didn't care if this was all a ruse or real, I was going to enjoy it.

I lay back on the bed as Anwuli sucked me off, pulled Deola on top me, grabbed her ass, and dragged her forward so her crotch was in front of my lips. She hadn't bothered with underwear, and my tongue gratefully snaked it's way into her honey pot. Warm, sticky wetness greeted me, and I sensed the fun had begun before they got to my room. I could hear her moan as my tongue probed her depths and my lips sucked and tugged at her clit, and the sound drove me into a frenzy. I started thrusting into Anwuli's mouth with a lot more strength. To my surprise, and amusement, I met no resistance. My shaft slipped in and out of her mouth, and, occasionally, down her throat, with ease. I felt myself tense and reached down to hold her head down as I thrust in deep and poured into her throat. She took it like a pro, swallowing and sucking every bit of my cum out of me. I hadn't even noticed Deola had slid off my face during my rush. I watched as she crawled over to Anwuli, dragged her head off my rod, and kissed her full on the lips. Oh crap. I was getting hard again.
_______________________________________________________________

Well, there. :).

Before I go, please check out @CapoeiraPanda's latest piece Goodbye. It's a response to my post Say Hello To Goodbye. You might want to read them side-by-side if you can. I just loved it so much, and want you all to see it :D. I apologize for the numerous links.

NB: Still accepting drafts. Send to eezykrys@yahoo.com.

...xo

That Night

Teary-eyed, barefoot, and in my pajamas, I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. Out the door, across the yard, and down the street, the wind whipping my hair into my line of vision. The street lights were blurry through my half-closed eyes, and I could barely see where I was going. Didn't matter. I had no idea where I was going anyway. My small feet carried me down the empty street, past all the houses, far away. Which was where I needed to be.

Wasn't long before I was out of breath though. I began to slow, and my sprint gradually faded into a slow stroll until I came to a complete halt. I sat on the pavement, and struggled to catch my breath. My feet hurt, and I rubbed them one after the other. I could hear cars rushing past, and I knew I wasn't far from the estate gate. I resolved to keep going after I'd rested and tended to my aching feet and limbs.

I was tired. Emotionally though, not just physically. Echoes of the war raging at my house vibrated repeatedly in my mind. I shook my head, but it didn't help. They were stuck there, plastered to the walls and latched on to memories past. But that's the thing with memories. Sometimes, they grow fainter and hazy with time. Other times, they build over the years, getting ever stronger, building on recurrences of events. My case was the latter. I resigned and buried in my tiny palms.

I couldn't really remember a time when my home was ever peaceful. I was oblivious to all the anger and venom that encircled my parents whenever they were in the same vicinity when I was younger, but as I grew it became more and apparent that something was amiss. They tried to hide it initially, arguing only in raised whispers, and stopping whenever I came into the room. You can only pretend for so long though. As time passed, I could feel the chill that filled the air whenever they were in the same room. Tension so thick you'd need a chainsaw to slice through, silence often broken only by my voice. Yes, there was no hiding it anymore. My parent had fallen madly and desperately out of love with each other.

I can't say if there was ever any love there though. If there was, it was probably long before I was born, or maybe when I was still a toddler, because I certainly couldn't remember. There was none of the affection my classmates often spoke of. No smiles, no hugs, no loving looks were ever exchanged, and they slept in separate rooms.

My dad had a company to run, and was gone most of the time. My mum was happiest when he was gone. We'd cook,
Play board games, read, and watch tv together either curled up on the couch, or sprawled on the floor. My dad would take me out sometimes, and we'd get ice cream, or go shopping for new dresses, toys and goodies. I had fun with both my parents individually, so I knew each was a loving, caring person as a single unit . Together, however, it was a disaster. One that had turned our home into a war front.

I'd stumbled upon many arguments over the years, and I'd run back up to my room and sob quietly. On the occasions where they saw me, one of them would come up after me and comfort me, making promises of better times. Promises I'd learnt were empty. The next day, I'd get something new. Somehow, I got accustomed to this environment. I never knew what the fights were about, and I was silenced or ignored when I tried to ask, so I just learnt to kind of ignore it as much as I could. They never went beyond yelling and rants. Sometimes, someone would storm out of the house and return hours later.

But that night....it was different. I was getting ready for bed, and was coming out of the bathroom when I'd heard a crash. Heart pounding, I'd rushed downstairs, and straight to the kitchen, where I'd determined the noise had to have come from. Nothing in a million years could have prepared me for what I saw when I swung open the kitchen door. My mum was backed up against a wall, and my dad had one hand round her neck. The other froze mid-air as they both stared wide-eyed at me. I was frozen too. My mind seemed to stop functioning. I'd never seen my dad even touch my mum, so the sight before me was beyond horrid. I turned and ran.

As I sat on the pavement, the image of my dad about to hit my mum frozen in my mind, tears rolled down my cheeks. The night air had gotten chilly, and I shivered. It had gotten darker as well. The few houses that still had lights on had turned pitch black. The beginnings of fear were brewing in the pit of my stomach. My options were to either continue sown the dark scary road, or return to the horror at home. Sobs took over, and I began to shake more even more.

I jumped as I heard my name, and looked up to see my parents. My mum was running towards me, and my dad was behind her, holding a torch. I sat still, not knowing to react when my mum engulfed me in a hug. She was shaking as much as I was. My dad just stood, silently watching. After about 2 minutes of squeezing me, my mum stood up and my dad picked me up. As, we headed back towards the house., no one said anything. I was too tired to speak. My eyelids were heavy, and I needed to sleep. I yawned, and, just before I shut my eyes, I saw them hold hands.

_______________________________________________________________

Hey :)

So, I might be gone for a while. Have a few ideas I'm working on. Also, for those that have been threatening me, Daddy's Girl will continue as soon as I'm back. I'm trying to perfect the story, so I give you what you deserve (the best)

Still need writers to feature on my blog while I work on more constructive and enjoyable material (and titles). I'd really hate for all this creative space to go to waste with so much talent out there. So, if you're interested, please send a draft of a story to eezykrys@yahoo.com :)

Also, my birthday is in 14 days \=D/ Please kindly look at the image below. Wouldn't be lovely if I got my dream phone as my present? *hint hint* *wink wink* :D

Plenty kilzes .....xx

The Three

This place got a little bit too gloomy for a bit. I've decided to put up something nice :)

Okay. So, I wrote this about two years ago. It's a three-part poem. It's not awesome. It's just something I wrote spur-of-the-moment (do I hyphenate too much?).. I was kinda mixed up at the time. Some of you have already read it. Anyhu, I just thought I should put it up here, so enjoy. Or not. You know, whatever.

I
Tall and handsome, but definitely not dark
Sweet and kind for as long as i can remember
Deathly sexy, and a sense of humor to boot

Friends for a while, and then not really
Now things seem to be different
But a good different, interesting different really

Pressed up against him, my heart beats faster
His arms around me, i feel safer
I barely hear a thing he says, my mind is SO gone

What to do, i can't really decide
Actually, what i want i'm quite uncertain
Things progress at a snail's pace

I want him, this i know
But i'm starting to feel he's unattainable
And so, i begin my gradual fade into the background

II
The first meeting, i have to confess, was quite unexpected
To my surprise, conversation wasn't at all difficult
To be honest, i knew from that moment what was going on

Though short, it was absolutely memorable
I carried that memory with me throughout our time apart
And talking to him would always bring joy to my heart

Anxious, excited, elated, eager, keen, and somewhat uneasy
I had something to look forward to in this friggin' hell hole
I knew i had a friend, scratch that, much more than a friend

Time progresses, we move along, but things aren't the same
I try and try, and he does too, but it's out of control
And then, for a bit, it's okay again. Funny how things seem to work out

All those feelings, i should have followed my instinct, kept them hidden
Alas, it hurts worse than a stab to the heart, but i paste on a smile anyway
Our friendship's WAY too important to me to let go, it'll be okay

I should never have seen it, should have just walked away
Wouldn't have been any the wiser, there'd be no reason to feel this pain
Empty, alone, lonely, hollow, sad, hurt, without him, i feel

But deep down inside, i know i know, just too scared to admit it
Friends quite like no other, from the start, until the end
Still not letting go.........we'll be okay

III
OMG! I can't believe this is happening, actually, i can, but then again, i can't
I'm really not making a lot of sense, i know, not even to myself
Maybe you can begin to understand the way he makes me feel

It's been a while, but not that long, long enough anyway
Don't know much about him, haven't had the chance
See him almost everyday, never said a word

I wanted him so bad, for so long, and so did someone else
Interestingly, i really don't see her around anymore, but that's besides the point
I seem to always want things far out of my reach

Didn't really expect it to ever happen, but hey! what can i say
Sadly he thinks i'm totally buzzed, I'm not, but i'd rather he didn't know
Come to think of it, I'd rather no one know

We haven't really spoken since, not at all in fact, but it's no big
You see, I've come to learn to cherish memories and hold on to wishes
So wishes i wish, and dreams i dream, who knows what'll happen

I lay down to rest, but can't really do that, my mind's not ready quite yet
Away i sail on a cloud of what ifs, farther and farther, not sure where to
Patiently i'll wait, things always play out anyway.

The one who has my heart....at least for now anyway

Something I Miss

Wow! Four days! That's something. I know some of you have been whispering in dark cyber corners about me giving up on the challenge. This is not true. There was no light in my estate :(

Moving on, I've decided to talk about something I miss this morning. I wasn't gonna do this topic now, but I had a conversation of sorts with someone last night, and it kinda came up.

What do I miss? A lot of things. I miss the original choco milo and gala. I miss that milk thingy that you squeeze out of a tube and suck. I miss running around naked in the rain, and cooking in empty milo tins behind the house. Eating chalk, and licking toothpaste for the heck of it too.

Basically, I miss being a kid.

When I was a kid, things were a whole lot easier. I wasn't bothered about what I was gonna eat, or how I was gonna get money to do one thing or the other, or anything like that. There was nothing like love, or heartbreak. No sense of betrayal. Just bliss.

I think I've already mentioned in previous posts that I was aa dork of a kid. I existed in books. If I wanted to go somewhere new, or explore something different, I had my books. I'd sit behind in class while everyone else went out for break and read or do my assignments.

You see, kids are different. My classmates didn't like me because I was different, and they didn't bother hiding it. No one ever asked me to play, or help them with anything. Everyone pretty much just steered clear of me. And I was fine with it. Didn't pretend to like anyone either. I had my books. My wonderfully amazing books.

Now, everyone just seems eager to pleaase everyone else. I guess I just miss that honesty. I'd rather people didn't pretend to like me just because they're trying to get something from me. It sucks. Especially when you know. And I almost always do.

Some people say I play a lot now, because I didn't get to when I was little. This is true. I missed out on a lot when I was younger. Sometimes I try to make up for that. It helps to have awesome friends who get me. They aren't very many, but they mean the world to me. Maybe one day, I'll do a posrt dedicated to them :) meanwhile, just know I love you guys *kisses*

Undoubtedly, growing has been an experience. I've felt real pain, experienced betrayal over and again, learnt the meaning of rejection, been heartbroken, and basically just seen a portion of what life is. I know I haven't seen it all, and I know there have been great memories along the way, and there probably a lot more amazing times ahead.

I miss being a kid, and being a lot less unaware. I miss smiling for no reason, and, just being happy.

But we have to grow. Everyone. And either you do it at your own pace, or life pushes you into you. One way or another.

Childhood is the world of miracle or of magic: it is as if creation rose luminously out of the night, all new and fresh and astonishing. Childhood is over the moment things are no longer astonishing. When the world gives you a feeling of “déjà vu,” when you are used to existence, you become an adult.
– EUGENE IONESCO

Famous 5

Five famous people I'm attracted to, huhn? Well, should be easy enough.
Please note that this post is not about objectifying men. It is about objectifying a woman too. :)

Let's begin...



Look at him... *sigh* Those arms.. That chest.. Ryan Reynolds is just... Can you see where his jeans are sagging a bit? I wonder where those lines lead.... *giggle*.
Lest I forget, I also love him 'cause he's as sarcastic and hilarious off-set as he is during a shoot, with a wicked smile to booth. Major turn on.... *looks at picture again* *sigh*




Jessica Alba, as far as I'm concerned, is just a tease. Look at her. Just look at what she's doing! *sigh* those lips... And her body is super amazing. The things I could do.... *daydreaming*




Idris Elba, IMO, is not that hot. Passable at the most. It's his accent that gets me. When he's talking, my mind just zones in on that voice and blocks everything else out. Hotness. I kinda like his smile too.




Look into those eyes. *swoon* I just want to swim in them. I wouldn't even mind drowning. I love how he does all those action flicks, and still manages to be funny. Plus, he's HOT. I'd like to spread hollandia yogurt all over him and lick it all off :D Paul Walker can most definitely get it. And he MUST!!!!




This is my husband. I'm crazy about him. I even stalked him for a bit. Yeah, pathetic. I know. Watevs. Sadly, my mother says I can't marry a yoruba person. :( He's uber talented and so friendly. I think that's what I admire the most about him. Sha, God is in control. One of these days.

So, that's my famous 5. Of course, there are some others. But these top my list everyday.

Good night one and all. See y'all tomorrow. :D

Daddy's Girl - II

Rays of sunlight streamed into the room through holes in the worn out curtain. I focused my attention on the little spots that fell on odd places around the room, letting my imagination play. Any distraction was welcome lately. I tried to get into a more comfortable position, but my body hurt too much so I just stayed there. I knew I'd have to get up eventually, but he'd be out for at least three more hours. Why rush?

I hated this bed more than I hated mine. So much more. Lying on it, even being in the same room with it, was a violation of my soul, my mind, my whole being. But, unlike with my bed, I couldn't refuse to lie on it. Why? Because I was usually thrown or pushed on it. I sighed as I watched dust particles dance in the sun rays. He grunted beside me.. Tears welled up in my eyes as another attempt to get off that dreadful bed and leave proved even more painful than the last.

The rain continued to fall outside, thundering and beating the dirt off the windows of the house, as I washed the day's dishes by the dim glow of the only candle we had left at home. I took my time with each plate, slowly and deliberately getting every inch of the ceramic clean. Honestly, the plate wasn't really dirty. I had to focus on it, or I'd start crying all over again.

I can't say there was anything unusual about the morning she'd left. It was every other day. As always, she and papa had argued loudly the night before, throwing and breaking more items from around the house. They were arguing fighting about me again, but this time I couldn't help but feel it was my fault. For some time, I'd been hammering on mama to allow me start school, and she'd finally agreed to talk to papa that evening. As the fight escalated outside my door, i'd stayed in my room, cowering under my duvet, unable to sleep, until the house fell quiet a little past midnight. The following morning, my mum had assigned me my chores for the day, picked up her bag, and left without another word. Fear and, dare I say, wisdom prevented me from inquiring about my request. She never came back.

Day after day, I'd sat outside, scanning the street from my perch on the stairs, as I wasn't allowed to leave the compound without papa's permission, looking out for any sign of her. Two weeks had passed, and I'd given up on sitting on the stairs in front of the house awaiting mama's return, and enduring taunts from papa regarding the issue. The dishes were a good distraction from the hurt and abandonment I felt. I couldn't think of a logical reason why she would leave without so much as a "goodbye", or why she would leave me with this horrid man. I finished the last of the dishes, adjusted my wrapper, and picked up the candle.

As I made my way through the sitting room, I heard a grunt from the couch. Papa had dozed off on the chair, it seemed.
I continued towards my room, and had just reached the door when he called to me "Ememgini."
I paused "Yes, papa."
"Come and help your father inside."
I reluctantly walked back towards him, and bent so he could put an arm round my shoulder in order to stand up. he reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, and I couldn't wait to be away from him. I led him to his room, helped him lie down, and was about making a hasty retreat when I felt him grab me. "Is there anything else papa?" I asked.
His speech was slurry "Are you happy now? You've chased my wife away."
"Papa." I tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.
"Who will keep me company now in this house? Ehn? Onye?"
"Papa, I want to go and sleep."
"Sleep?" His laugh was the sound of evil, and sent a shiver down my spine. "What sleep? Is this not what you wanted?"
"Papa, biko..." Before I could complete my sentence, he had pulled me down on to the bed.
I started to scream, but was quickly silenced with a blow. "Shattap!" He tore frantically at my wrapper until it came loose, exposing my bare chest and legs. "See? Prostitute! This is what you want, ehn?"
He was kneeling between my legs, unfastening his pants. The realization of what was about to happen fully hit me, and I began to beg again, only to be rewarded with another blow to the face.

I don't think I cried because of the pain I felt when he ripped me as entered forcefully. It was the feeling of my soul being wrenched from my body, as he hammered mercilessly into my pre-pubescent body, raining insults on me. Any form of protest or struggle was met with a blow, until eventually I just lay there and took it, silent tears rolling down into my ears. I felt like a used piece of rag, as he collapsed on me, snoring. I was too scared to try to move. At intervals through out the night, he would wake up and pound into me for a bit before drifting back to sleep. He never got off.

I've never felt shame like when he finally woke that morning. I was grateful when his weight was finally off me. He stood, by the bed, looking at me with disgust, and hissed "Get this place cleaned up. Look at you. Prostitute. Like your mother. Ekwensu." I'd cried that morning as I washed the congealed blood between my legs in the bathroom. The assaults had continued steadily after that day.

I was jolted from my memory as a sharp pain forced me to tumble off the bed and unto the floor. He'd kicked me "What are you still doing here? Ekwensu! Zuzu puta n'ebe a!"
I got off the floor and briskly left the room.

Daddy's Girl

Hi everyone. So, I haven't really been writing, I know. I was searching for a muse, and I found one :D. So, the drought is over.

This is the intro to a new story I've been playing around with. Thought now was as good a time as any to start sharing. Please read and leave some feedback. I hope you like it.

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CRASH!!!

I cowered as the porcelain vase I'd spent a fortune on hit the wall, missing me by a few inches, and shattered. The pieces dropped to the floor near me. I thought it was amazing how they still looked like a glorious work of art even when reduced to mere shards and pieces. I could probably make some sort of mosaic out of them. Like the one in that magazine. My mind began to wander, as I played absently with the pieces of what had once been my most valuable treasure. His angry rants and curses became nothing more than distant echoes at the back of my mind.

Over the years, I'd learnt to shut this part out. Focus on something else so I didn't have to hear the demeaning words and cruel insults he had grown accustomed to flinging at me. Sometimes, it worked. He'd get bored with my lack of response and leave me alone. Other days, he'd get more aggravated. Today, it was the latter.

I didn't hear him walk over to me, and, before I had time to escape, he had me up against the wall in a choke hold. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, you ungrateful idiot!!!" He screamed, shaking me.
I stared at him, speechless. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging, and I could see the veins in his neck throbbing furiously. I searched his face, looking desperately for someone I wasn't even sure ever existed. I knew what was coming next. "Papa, please." I whispered.

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That's it then. The first part will be up next week (hopefully). Please remember to leavee some feedback in the comments section.

Also, since I'm in such a good mood, I'll share some more with you guys. If you don't aalready know, an article of mine went up on 234next. *cue confetti* :D. Yeah, it's not SPECTACULAR. But I'm pretty darn happy about it. So, you can check it out here.

Also, there's something else in the works. It's hush hush now, but 'm having some of my fave female bloggers come in on it. So, yeah. That's it.

Until next time, peace, love, and happiness.

Shower Hour

Hello. :) Honestly, I don't even know how to introduce today's post. But, it was written by @terdoh sha. You can visit his personal blog here if you so desire. I won't bore you with details of how I begged him before he finally wrote it. It's finally here, so please read and enjoy :)

Also, if you haven't already, please go to the nominations page of the Nigerian Blog Awards and nominate your favourite blogs. Remember to fill in the blog URLs and NOT the names. For a list of blogs you should nominate (for those who aren't sure) you can hit me up here, or on twitter. Much thanks.

And now, without further delay, your feature presentation......*dramatic music*




Ssup y’all. Yes, yes I know, I was supposed to be on the Princess
Diaries series…sorry, the Diary of Snow White series, but a
project-defense-exam combo is defined as a female dog’s female dog.
Sad. I’m really sorry for that. Apology accepted? Yes? No? No? Why na?
Abeg na? Anyway, even though I’m in the middle of exams right now, I
feel more than obligated to post something on this awesome blog…I
mean, if my name can be etched somewhere as an author on this page,
it’s an honor. But my head was crammed with formulas and definitions,
and blog ideas were just chilling at the bottom of my brain’s
foundation. I wanted to post something, but I didn’t know whether I
wanted to be deep (almost impossible, I’m as shallow as a bathtub, and
I’m only 14 years old), or to be funny (also impossible, my funny bone
broke while I was trying to break dance to impress one Dammy girl like
that) or to be a cynical critic (which wouldn’t have been too hard,
Wizkid’s “album” is out and full of gbagauns, and Vic O is still
breathing), or to just speak my mind and say an opinion…I was really
blank! But as fate would have it, I was masturba…*ahem* I was taking a
shower one morning when I remembered an incident that happened between
me and one of my many (five and a half) exes. So I thought; “good
fuckity fuck, I should blog about that!” Should I? Should I?? Yes?
Okay. :)
First of all, there will be no questions asked after I am done.
Second, for the purpose of the post, let’s call her Ada? Yeah…Ada is a
good name. Okay, so Ada and I dated for over 5 years. Yup…striker like
me stayed married for 5 years. Yes, we had some rough times. Even
though her best friend gave me my first (couple) kiss(es), and my best
friend saw her uhm…naked a couple quadruple times and used to brag
about it to me, we stuck together sha. But they say all good things
come to an end…(which is prolly why the relationship took so long to
plumet). But the post isn’t about my relationship with Ada. It’s about
an incident that happened AFTER we broke up. I remember something
Chris Rock said about men’s lies vs women’s lies. Men lie more often,
but women lie about serious shit! A man lie is: “I was at Tony’s
house”. A woman lie is “Yes, the baby is yours”.
I could only agree less.
On the day Ada broke up with me (for reason’s best known to God, her
and wikileaks), she kissed me, and when I escorted her out, she turned
back at the gate and said “Do you have a twin that’s less of an
asshole?” and then left without allowing me to say one of my witty
comebacks. After that, when she got home, she sent me an IM that said
“we can still be friends though”. That bit pissed me off…that’s like
having a peeing zone in a swimming pool…or a smoking zone in an
elevator. It can’t work! But she stuck like flies on packaged shit.
And I was used to having her around even though she broke my heart
like a world record.
About a year after we broke up, I’m in school when she sends a message
to me and the convo was something like this;
Ada: Baby, you’ve abandoned me like a sinking ship. It’s not fair oh!
I thought you loved me.
Me: I did…I think.
Ada: You still do jor! I have something to tell you.
Me: What is it?
Ada: I don’t feel too good. My tummy hurts and…
Me: And…?
Ada: Terdoh, I think I’m pregnant.
Me: Congratulations! When are you due?
Ada: Terdoh! I’m not joking! And you know the baby is yours!
*In the back of my head, Chris Rock goes “I told ya niokar! I told ya!”*
I thought back to the last time we had sex…uhm! Wait! We never had sex!
Me: Ehm…but we broke up OVER a year ago. Besides, you always stopped
me whenever I wanted to kpansh. Kpoxing never was “your thing”. Are
you having PMS again? Which time all dis one start?
Ada: I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. And I’m not about
to have a baby! I’m only in 300 level. I’m not about to ruin my future
for you. I’m getting rid of it. The doctor said it would cost 80
grand.
Me: You’re broke again aren’t you? Or you want to buy iPad 2?
Ada: Your wise cracks aren’t getting you off the hook. Are you helping
me get rid of it?
Me: Uhm, lemme think about it for one minute.
One minute later, I sent;
“No. I am not helping you get (rid of) it. Whatever it is…next time
you’re broke, call a janitor or a repair man. Oh, and I love you.
*sinister smile*” (That emoticon cannot be displayed here, wordpress
wouldn’t understand)
That was the last I heard of Ada.
So while I was *cough* showering, I started thinking; what if she had
allowed me peep into the “bird's eye” when we were dating? What if she
gave me that Becky? Would I have paid that 80 grand for those punani
penetration tutorials?
The answer is no.
Thou shall not carry last! (13th commandment after Thou shall not
listen to Jim Iyke-12th and Thou shall not watch Beyonce’s “Girls”
video-11th)
I’m just grateful that things worked out the way they did. Who wants
to be a father at 14?

Author’s note: Moral of the story; Shower more. It prevents babies,
and gives you blog ideas. :D

The Diary of Snow White III

Today's post was written by both I and the lovely @nwaokpoechi. Please enjoy.
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Diary, honestly, right now I'm freaked out about everything that's happened. Yes, EVERYTHING. If I hadn't already pinched myself several times, I'd think I was dreaming. Really. I don't know how things got this out of control. Okay, maybe I do. But c'mon! Who would've seen it coming?

Okay, I should've probably known something was up when I noticed that weird guy that was always following me. I just figured he was a stalker fan, you know? I am famous now, after all. And he's a guy. Guys adore my little projects. Even those who'd never let on that they do.

In all honesty, I wasn't quite sure about doing any of this. But it was an opportunity! Plus, I think there's a saying about looking a gift in the mouth?(How do you even do that? Gifts come in boxes and boxes don't have mouths). Anyhu, when Donald told me what the Indie movie I was getting a part in really was, I have to admit I wasn't very sure. I really didn’t think this was how I was going to start my career. But when you have lemons, trying to make apple juice is just well...out of the question. But he and his house mates convinced me I wouldn't be doing anything different from what I already did with them. Also, there'd be hot guys who'd take really good care of me, and the pay was...well, let's just say my new mercedes and boobs didn't pay for themselves..

Everything was fine, diary. We were happy again. But She just couldn't let us be! Who? Dana!! I don't understand why she couldn't just leave well enough alone! I'd already let her have daddy and the house and my old life. She was the one who hires that creepy guy to follow me around. Like, what the actual fuck?! And then she just shows up at the house one day, trying to get me to go back with her. Spewing all sorts of lies about daddy being dead. I know daddy isn't dead. He can't be dead. So, I asked her to leave, and offered to walk her to her car. Would you believe it? When we got outside, the crazy bitch started pulling me and trying to force me into the car. I managed to get free, and ran. Unfortunately, I kept looking back to see how far back she was and I ran into a pole. I blacked out after that.

When I came to, there was a totally gorgeous, dark-skinned guy leaning over me. I took to him instantly. His name's Duro, and he saw how I'd hit my head and fallen and came to help. He didn't see Dana though. I caught up with the Donald and the guys later though (Duro took me to go get checked at the hospital), and they told me they'd gotten home just as she was about to drive off. They suggested I file a police report against her for attempted kidnapping, so I did. Also, I got a restraining order.

So, my life's not been exactly smooth. But it all worked out. Duro and I are getting married. He's not always gonna be around, because he travels a lot, but that's okay. I really am lucky he happened to be passing by that day. Plus, did I mention he's filthy rich? Oh, yeah! SCORE!!! :)

As I write this, I’m packing my bags. The wedding is in two days and after that, the honeymoon. Maybe Paris, or Maui or Bali. We’re not sure yet. The best news is that he bought me a house in the country. It’s a large estate and it’s really quiet. And exactly the way I like it – complete with maids, servants, butlers and chauffeurs. It’s even better than what I had at home. Honestly, I’m super glad I bagged this one. Just between you and me, that whole acting thing wasn’t really my forte. Finally, I get to leave Hollywood. That life is not for me. I knew I was always meant to be a princess.

 ^_^

THE END.

The Diary of Snow White I

Hey Diary,

How have you been? Me? I guess I’m good, but a lot has happened to me since the last time we ‘spoke’. Do you remember Dana? Daddy’s stupid bitch P.A. I used to go shopping with and do my nails with? Yeah? Well, he decided he was going to marry her. OUT OF THE FREAKING BLUE!

Can you imagine that!? So that was why she was being all nice to me. I knew something fishy was going on; the way Daddy used to look at her, the obscene amounts of time they spent together. P.As do NOT spend that much time with their bosses!! And they especially do not hang around the house all the time like she does! I just figured she enjoyed being around me! I mean, who wouldn't? But, appaz, she was just trying to warm her way into our home.

This is all my fault! If only I had been a little more attentive. Just a little more perceptive and observant, I could have stopped this. But alas, the wedding date has been set.

That skinny bitch. I hate her!! Now I miss Mummy L. I mean, this only goes to show that she cannot be trusted, right? She asked me to be her chief bridesmaid. Imagine the nerve!! And yes, you guessed right; I said a big fat NO! Daddy was very displeased and Dana acted like she was sad and all, but I could see right through her woe-is-me act! She’s a good actress, but not good enough to fool me.

I decided that it was my duty to free Daddy from the shackles of this gold-digging whore. I had tried to talk to him before but he just could find no fault in his ‘queen’. Urrggghhh! I tried to call the caterers to jumble up the orders for the food for the wedding; I tried to shred her wedding dress, and even tried to invite and uninvite some guests. Let’s just say that Lady Luck was not on my side. The wedding was to go on as scheduled and Daddy was more than enraged at me. Little Ms. P.A.-turned-wife just kept on crying and playing the victim all through the whole fiasco. Ah well...

I made up my mind that if Daddy wasn’t going to see the light, then I was going to run away from home. There was no way I was going to live with that woman. I knew fully well it was a glamorous life, but the thought of seeing Dana trying to take Mummy’s place just broke my heart. Plus, I’ve always wanted to be an actress. I figured now would be as good a time as any to chase my dream. Better to kill two birds with one stone than kill...ha, I’ve got nothing.

Anyway, as I write this, I’m in a shabby motel in Hollywood. It’s so not what I’m used to but at least when I become super famous, I’ll have experiences to draw on to put in my bestseller tell-all. WOOP WOOP!!
I’m going for an audition for a commercial tomorrow. I’m really excited about it and I hope I get the part.

By the way, I dyed my hair platinum blonde. I’m kinda getting my Marilyn Monroe on right now. Plus, I’m no longer Mackenzie Black. My name is Snow White.
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So, that's Snow's first diary entry. Written by the one and only @nwaokpoechi, who I think should really start blogging again. Thanks for reading. I really hope you liked it. Also, if you missed Cindy's Diary, feel free to use the links to go back.

Winning?

So, there we were. Seated around one of the cafeteria tables discussing our worst and best relationship experiences, as we often did. But that night's discussion focused on an aspect of the relationships we'd never broached before - The Break-ups. Oh yes, talking about our worst and best break-up experiences was truly awesome. Well, for me it was, because I was always the dumper. Actually, there were two of us that didn't have a single story about being dumped. You should have heard us going on about how awesome we were. And our stories were frightfully similar. We never dated the same person for more than a certain number of weeks, and we made sure the break-ups were simple and not over-dramatic.

We, Tolu and I, were on a roll, but someone had to ruin our moment. I don't understand what it is with some people and not allowing people to have their moment? Why does there always have to be one killjoy?! It's so frigging annoying!! *deep breath* Back to the point. One person felt the need to ask, at the precise moment when I felt the highest, what I later realised would be the most heart-wrenching question I would be asked that week. This brat looked straight at me and said "Yeah, I get you guys did the dumping and everything, but think about it. If you're really the ones winning, why are you the ones who end up alone?"

And I did think about it. Why am I the one who's alone? Why am I the one staying up in the middle of the night because I feel something's missing? Why am I the one with a different guy every other week? Why am I the one without someone to have lunch with? Is that what winning's all about? I like to tell myself it's because this is how I like it. But is it? Do I really like to be alone?

Thinking deeper, I realise most of my "victories" were orchestrated by the guy. I haven't seen Star Wars, but I'm pretty sure this could be classified under Jedi mind tricks. He'd do things that would make me break up with him. Or, he'd start a fight and suggest we take a break, knowing I'd rather break up than "take a break". And they'd all say things like "You're perfect baby, it's me I have to work on.", and "I don't want to keep holding you back.", and "The man you marry is a lucky bastard.". Oh yeah? Well, what about you!? You could've been that guy! That's what I was working towards!

I believe one of the worst possible things that you could ever realise is how truly unhappy you are. Right now, I'm not really sure if I'm happy or not.
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Hi all. So, last week was a bit messed up for me. Mostly stuff you don't care about. Back on schedule by tuesday.
Either way, I wrote this piece to try to help out a friend who's really in a rut. I suck at giving advice (I really do) so, I figured you guys could help. I've tried to portray her mindset as best as I can. So, please leave comments and suggestions, and other stuff in the boxes below. I'm sending her the link, and I'm sure she'd appreciate whatever you have to say.

Cindy's Diary II

Hello! Today's instalment was written by my awesome friend Onyinye. Hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did. Also, you can like to follow her on twitter -» @nwaokpoechi :)
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Damn, damn, damn!! DAMN!!! I forgot my glass slipper at the party. This is just great! If Mother finds out I was there, she will have my pretty head on a platter. Hmmmm. I don’t think she will though. I mean, the slipper cannot possibly be traced to me. Or can it? Chei...I’ve put myself in trouble. Em...I don’t think she’ll find it sha; they’re like a million size eights in this town. Phew!! Cindy, Cindy, Cindy, you have got to calm down. I had better get to cleaning this kitchen and finishing this pot of soup before those daughters of Jezebel arrive.

Ehen, before I forget, those two idiots – Gris-whatever and Esmerugly ...you should’ve seen what they wore. Kai. I was too weak to even laugh. All I can say is that something has to be sacrificed to the gods of fashion to appease for that abomination. They made me help them zip their dresses and shine the shoes on their feet. See the fools discussing on how they would they would charm the billionaire’s son with their grace and good looks. I chuckled. Then they looked at me and said, "Just look at this one. You’re not even going to the party and you have the guts to laugh. Ugly little thing." Ugly? If only they knew. That was when Mother walked in. "Chop, chop girls! We’ve got to hurry. The party starts in a bit." They started hurrying towards the door. I thought maybe I should try my luck, and asked Mother if I could join them later. Big mistake! "Of course not, Cindy. You belong in the kitchen, my dear." SLAM. The door went in my face. Imagine.

I went to the kitchen, sobbing as I was cleaning. I couldn't help but wonder why Daddy would condemn me to such a fate. I mean, how am I supposed to be free from the shackles of these people? Anyhow sha, God dey.

The next thing I knew, one old lady landed in the kitchen, wand and all. She said she was my fairy godmother. I know, I know. Fairy godmother in this day and age? But whatever, she said she could get me to the party and that was all that mattered to me at that point. With the wave of her wand, everything I needed appeared, from a limousine and a chauffeur to a sexy blue dress and a pair of glass slippers studded at the heel with Swarovski crystals. Yes boss! Now that’s what I’m talking about. "Choiiiiiii, Aunty nothing do you!! Thank you so much." I gave her one serious bear hug. She told me to make sure I was back by 12, because by then the ‘jazz’ would have worn off. And then she disappeared, as quickly as she had appeared. Me I just locked the door and left the house in my limousine. Lemme write that again. MY limousine. Ahhhhh...it felt so good to own something so nice, even if it was just for a short while.

But Diary, as we all know, life is not a fairy tale. As I was dancing with the billionaire’s son – his name is Duro by the way – the clock decided that was when it wanted to strike 12 and I had to run to leave the place in time. That’s how I stupidly lost my slipper. Mscheeeew. Nothing good ever happens to me. Ever. Just when I thought we were making a connection. Ah well. Shit happens. Just that in my case, it’s all the freaking time.

Ah ah, is that the doorbell? They’re back already? Drat!! Gotta go get the door. Hopefully, I’ll have time to write again tomorrow. Till then, as always, I remain ever hopeful.

Cindy's Diary

So, this is the very first in the princess diaries series. I'm really just dabbling, so I hope you enjoy it. Any feedback will be very much welcome and appreciated :)

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Oh freaking hell, diary! I am BEYOND exhausted. I know I've been complaining a lot since daddy died, but can you really blame me? These bitches are driving me insane!!! "Clean this!", "Do that!", "Fix this!". Ugh! I just want to shove something incredibly large down their throats!

And that woman! It's bad enough that I have to call her "mother"! She could try to go bit easier on me. Does she think I enjoy being surrounded by filthy, possessed mice?! If I were her, I'd be a whole lot nicer to the person who prepares my meals. You never know what could 'accidentally' get into the meal.

Speaking of mice, I think I might be going insane actually, because I seem to be the only one who can hear them. And they do things. Things animals, let alone mice, should be able to do. I probably shouldn't complain too much. At least it's company.

I'm not even in the mood to rant about those retarded lumps of flesh referred to as my step-sisters. If they were nice enough to me, I'd probably teach them some fashion sense. Hideous creatures. I may wear rags, but at least they're good-looking rags. I actually feel bad for them. They have to be mean with those looks. Who'd want to look at them? And they're attitudes!! I know about self-confidence, but I think they're just ignorant.

I'm working on a plan, diary. One that'll get me out of this hell hole. No more forced smiles, and chores, and especially no talking to mice. I'm going to leave here. I don't care how! I'm going to do whatever it takes. I'm getting out of here, or I'll die trying.

Gosh. So tired. Another day of smiling and working ahead. I'll write again tomorrow. Til then, as always, I remain ever hopeful.