Soul of an Artist

    Photo Credit -Amino Apps You know those people that open doors and don't close them? Especially the doors that keep the cold outside and the warmth in. The doors that when open everyone can see what is going on inside and it gets annoying. When you are comfortable in your room, deep in your warm blankets then a sibling just opens your door, inspects the room, touches random things and then leaves it wide open for no particular reason and when you tell them to close the door they are too far gone so now you have to get up out of your comfortable bed to go close the door that was comfortably closed. Well, that recently happened to me. But mine wasn't a literal door. No, I wish it was though. It was a door I didn't even know existed. The kind of door your subconscious closes shut because what is behind it is not that pretty. Funny thing is whatever is behind this door has been affecting my life seriously and I was oblivious to it. But I don't know if this person realiz...

Photo Credit- Tharawat Magazine I know, I know, It's been crickets in here. Don't come for me. I missed this. I created this blog as a form or means to escape from my reality but my reality kept calling me back. It's good to be back though. Life has been lifing recently and my creativity had to be channeled to a different area of my life. So I had none left for my blog. In the past few months, my life has changed tremendously. It's been fun, different, new, scary, exciting, and messy to say the least. In the midst of this mess, I made a huge blunder that made me feel like others looked at me differently. Turns out I was the one who was looking at myself differently and I started projecting those feelings onto other people. I felt like my image was tarnished because of this blunder especially since it was a new sector of my life. It got me thinking though. About my perfectionism, my fear of failure, and how I define myself by my failures. I put myself through this magnif...

Photo Credit- iStock I thought about you today. I wanted to call you. But then I remembered I can't. I wonder how you are Time and time again you cross my mind I remember you with fondness But today I cried Because I can't create any more memories  with you Do I ever cross your mind? I was thinking about you, thinking about me, thinking about us Going down memory lane It is sad, That that's all it was It was only just a memory

 The Spark: Soul of an Artist #WinterABC23 #AFROBLOGGERS I recently joined a writing challenge where we're given prompts and then go forth. Do whatever you will. Kind of reminds me of high school compositions and inshas. Fitting considering that's how my passion for writing started. Our prompt for today's blog is The Spark. The spark that ignited the fire for writing.  Writing for me has been innate. It began with reading though. I always loved reading even as a kid. Back then there wasn't the internet so hard cover it was. I would read novels, newspapers, magazines, and anything I would come across When we started writing compositions in school, I was exceedingly good at them. I never thought anything of it. I just knew I wrote good compositions. It was so interesting when everyone hated doing compositions, I loved them.  Fast forward to campus, life got so busy and distracting I forgot all about writing. I still read novels though on an app but writing, naah, wasn...

Photo Caption- Vail Relationship Institute I'm supposed to be happy. Isn't this what I wanted? I lost sleep over this. I'm supposed to be ecstatic. I got what I wanted, but at what cost? No one said the price would be this high. Why am I in mourning? I am so afraid of this new path. Of what it is asking me to do. This is supposed to be a good thing, right? Then why do I feel like this? There's this dull ache in my chest. I don't want to leave. But I don't want to stay either. They all left. With no goodbye. Then why am I having a hard time saying goodbye? I don't know. I wish I did. My new life is beckoning. So why do I keep looking back? I'm tired of feeling this feeling. But I'm scared of feeling something new. This is bittersweet but the bitter keeps overpowering the sweet. Why am I having a hard time leaving the things that already left?  They only bring me pain but it seems pain is the only thing I am accustomed to. It should be easy, but it...

Photo Credit- The New York Times I’m an early 2000's baby. So I grew up in the era where technology was still a baby. Where the rich families had the TV with the big behind.. insert laugh.. Back when celebrities wore the same clothes as everyone else. Where music was authentic and not about big butts. When reggae was soothing and played on the radio. When soap operas were the now series. Back when Judge Ian on Tusker Project Fame was considered the savage of savages. When the whole country watched Storm over Paradise. Where if you wanted to listen to music on a phone all you could listen to was the phones' ringtones. When Nokia and Motorola were the it phones. Waiting for photos almost a month after taking them. Or listening to music on cassettes and watching 20 movies on one disk. The era of blu-ray. What a time. Where only parents had phones. When your mother warned you about playing with the neighbors kids and against visiting their homes. Before boarding schools were a thin...

photo credit - pinterest I am a guest in my own home. That's what he said. I am a stranger to my own people I realized. Understand where I'm coming from Yet oblivious to where I came from He took me away from my father's house He promised my father to do right by me.  Daddy, he didn't, he lied He took me to his home "Don't get too comfortable This is not your home I can chase you whenever I like I can do to you whatever I want You don't have a home" Nowhere to go No one to turn to He took me from home To make me a prisoner in his home