I often glance back on my childhood and find things that I've hidden from myself. It's a way of me protecting me and avoiding the can of worms that lay just under the surface of my skin. I remember being a young girl bullied into silence, often scared of talking to people for fear of judgment and a strong self-loathing that still shadows me till this day. I ask you all this personal question. What is your most painful memory? Or Memories? Much Respect, Aerek _Of _Augustine.
In the last couple of years we have seen change and at the same time, we have also regressed. I come to you all again with another question. Do you think that people are too sensitive or just passionate? Everyone seems to be offended by a lot of stuff in today's media, but are we just being too sensitive? I'm very big on hearing everyone's part of the story.
I don't know if anyone will ever read this, but it'll help if I just get the words out. I've started back writing again, but have lost a little confidence in my written work. Thousands of stories lay unfinished on my computer and in notebooks, its like once I start a story I find myself second guessing myself and it's worth. Would love some help. Much Love, Aerek_Of_ Augustine
It was a normal day. I was doing normal things and then I felt it. I felt it slither into my gut like a snake and stretch its way into my throat. It has been a while since I've known this feeling and felt its poison squeeze my heart. A familiar unwanted friend that waits in the shadows of my happiness and comes when the gray clouds above fill with rain. How I despise this feeling and all it offers. Begone devious spirit and make your home elsewhere, for this child suffers enough with the weight of her sins.
I'm trying to make a habit out of writing before I go to bed. Finding and building on this craft has been more difficult as I age, inspiration seems to have drifted from hands and my imagination has come to a halt. So, this writing before bed will act as a substitute until I can gain back what I lost.
I'm terrified. I haven't had a new job in years and the thought of starting over is literally tearing me apart. I'm nervous and full of fear, usually, I just jump right into any situation after a few moments of talking to myself. I'm just a ball of nerves and I hope I can get this job done without any worry or hiccups.
Show me your word art, Bloggers. Most evenings, she would watch him from her bedroom window. In the back of his yard playing with his hound, ignoring the patch of dead grass that slowly formed under the low hanging branches of the willow tree. She often prayed that he would notice the copper fingers sticking up from the brittle ground and still these prayers fell on deaf ears.
There should be a feeling of peace in my soul, but as of recently, something is unsettling me. Maybe it's the state of today's world or just my doubts creeping into the back of mind. This sense of fear from my body is keeping me from my work. I want to write. I want to create. I honestly don't know what to do. I feel stuck.
I know this may be weird, but I only call people once. It's not like a call and the phone only rings for a second and I hang up, but I call and I let the phone ring until they answer or it goes to voicemail. I don't leave a message or anything, I hang up and that is that. Is this odd or do other people do this?
Welcome Back, Stranger. I can't say I've missed you, but it is nice to see you again. I've thought about you a lot lately and every part of my mind seems to cling to you. I dwell on our time together. I still hate you and I don't think I'll ever stop hating you. You've ruined me.
Before I go to bed, I always take a minute to think the Lord for the day. No matter what kind of day it was, I am always thankful to have lived it and when I rise in the morning with my arms stretched to the ceiling, I thank him again. The reason for this is quite simple, inside my head there’s a person. Now, I’m not crazy and I’m far from it! But there’s a person inside my head that whispers awful things to me. It’s hard trying to live a positive life, when there is a raspy, cynical little voice gifting you doubt and sadness at every turn. I often fear that one day this voice might win and I’ll end up once again a scared distrustful little girl or worse. So, every night before bed I thank the Lord for the day. No matter what kind of day it was, I am always so thankful to have lived it.
My cousin and I are close. She’s my Bae and I’m her Boo. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her, it takes a special kind of love deal with her stubbornness and sometimes overwhelming personality. So, enter Diabante, an odd and yet very much educated nurse. He asked me to write about him on my blog, I really don’t know why, but I said yes and here we are now. I don’t remember all of his accomplishments (I’m sure he’ll remind me later and I’ll make sure to take notes), but he’s a awesome dude! I was surprised that my cousin had choose such a weirdo and I’m happy that he is so devoted to her. He has been such an positive impact on her life.
The imagination is a tool of unlimited power. As people, this is our greatest strength and sometimes our most unfortunate weakness. Even though I was surrounded by family as a child, I often found myself drifting off into a world of my own design. In fact, on most of my report cards (My mother still has them), my teachers frequently left a note to my parents about my lack of focus. During the day, I was entangled in a world of delight and adventure. But at night, things shifted to a much darker aspect. My question for today is What Nightmares still follow you?
I've recently finished reading an article about Black Childhood. The purpose of the article was to underline how Black children aren't seen as children in times of discipline. Furthermore, the article also touches on how black children are often seen as older than their non-black peers and how certain stereotypes factor into the treatment of young black kids. As I read the article, I found myself thinking back to my childhood. On occasions, my sisters and I were mistaken as the parents of our cousins or our youngest sibling. I also thought back to my time in school and how when I would get in "trouble," the teacher would be quick to state that I have an attitude or that I'm too sassy. In a recent encounter, my sister had been pulled over, and my cousin (14) was in the car. My sister had called me to come outside, and I heard the whole interaction over the phone. The officer believed that my cousin had given him a fake name and was lying about his age. I decided to intervene over the phone, and I told the officer that indeed his name was the one he stated and he was currently a student at the local high school. I was told to calm down. I was calm.
He had come home late again. His shirt twisted and stained with alcohol and lipstick, the faint smell of ginger with a hint of vanilla wafted off his body. He had gone to see the OTHER. His wife refused to call her by her name that trash did not deserve a name and would only be known as nothing but the OTHER. Tonight, Deliah was tired. She had fussed, spit, and raged one too many times, tonight she was just tired. Her husband crept into the house, taking off his shoes at the door, sliding his feet against the polished wood floor. Deliah sat on the kitchen counter and waited for him to pass, his silhouette bold against the darkness of the night. "Luke," she said. He froze. Deliah clapped her hands, and the lights turned on. Luke looked as he did most nights, his clothes twisted and skin slick with sweat. "Love-" "Don't," Deliah interrupted. "I'm tired, Luke. I'm exhausted." Luke sighed, reaching for his wife to give her some form of comfort. Deliah pulled away, her hands trembling. "I love you, Luke." She said, " But we can't do this anymore." Luke looked at his wife. She was different. Her round frame had thinned, her hair knotted and damaged. Her clothes too big. She reminded him of a child playing dress-up. "Love, I don't understand?" Luke said, "We can't do what anymore?" Deliah gestured between the two of them, "We can't do this anymore." "Liah-" "I tried, Luke. I did. I fought damn hard for us, and now I don't wanna fight no more."