On Kissing

I have never learned how to kiss. Well, at least how to execute one. It was something I never had to learn because I have always been kissed. I never had to do the kissing and for that, I have to give credit to DUDES everywhere because , being the Kisser is incredibly difficult.

My Saturday night consisted of a lot of kissing. Super cute boy named lee. NO SEX. Just good old fashion lip fighting.

on kissing:

we are children

clawing for the cookie jar,

yearning for something out of reach.

but you are here.In reach

less than 10cm a way.

we are inhaling  each others exhales

collecting breathes in case we ever run out

We are touching

and time, is stretching.

pulling me in and out.

and I am fumbling my words.

making anagrams of coherent sentences.

afraid of reading the signs wrong

we are 2 cm away from each other


there is nothing left between us but lips and desire.

We are kissing and

I feel young

Like a child

Making out is great. I wish I could do it more.




I Hear You

Im sorry I have beeen absent for over a week or so. I wish i could say I was busy training for a marathon or recruiting underprivledged youth to work for a nature conservatory project but in honesty I was consumed with my ability to do absolutely nothing.
Its kind of bewildering how much of an effect not writing has on me. It makes me complacent as though everything around me is okay.  But  that does always last very long. Like always, I always resort back to this place no matter the circumstances.
That being said, I have something to complain about (shocker).

There are MILLIONS of people who feel the same way as I do. Those of us who cruise through life in search for something larger than us. Those of us floating in the middle of shark infested, paralyzed by the fear of being eaten. Those of us who have felt the sting of our own self made poison.

The other night I was lounging with my friends, watching Madagascar. It was a beautiful day outside and my stomach was filled with cheese crusted pizza and loads of unhealthy junk food. It should’ve been heaven on earth, yet there was still this voice jabbing at my brain cells: “THIS ISNT GOOD ENOUGH, YOU SHOULD BE DOING MORE. THIS ISNT ENOUGH”

My different friend groups are comparable to a different terrain; the tundra, the dessert, the rainforest. All have a set of different characteristics and attributes unique to its location. None like the other. Each contains a beauty unique to its own.
I  am the lone traveler, exploring the flora and fauna, falling in love with the ginormous sky blanket above, hopelessly searching for enlightenment or something more. Something pure.
Is the lonely ever going to fade?

At this point I’m not too sure.
In other new, my nipples are sore.

It Rained

This morning it rained and for the first time, I found solace in the quiet pitter-patter of rain drops.  For years, I associated the rain with sadness and sorrow. Waking up felt like a chore, and doing things in the morning: a drag. The aftermath of everything being drenched in rain made me feel gloomy and muggy. But this morning, it was fascinatingly different.

I woke up and I didn’t feel drowsy; I felt revived and refreshed  like flowers after their first taste of rain during a drought. It was much needed.

I’m just overfilled with joy. Nothing feels like it can go wrong right now.



I can not sit here and believe that there isn't divinity in this world. Our existence is proof enough that it exist. We are all created with the purest, holiest, sheerest, specs of light and that in itself is mind boggling. We Are Magic.
Shooting stars exist.
The other day I saw one and it was beautiful.


(This was written while I was inebriated.)
Well, im drunk.
Not blackout drunk, but deunk enougb to know that I shant be wroting because I wont be makkng conerant sentwncws and for that I am sorry.
Twas the first day I went out with my bald head. It shall be noted, that I come froma. Culturw that values feminity and beauty. A bald head goes against all of that.
So imagine, a parkingn lot filled with over 200 sudanese people, half of whom are men.
Usuallt, I dont have trouble on the recoeving end. On averge o should be allotted three men for the entire night. But tonight, I struggled.
Honestly, I hate using men as tokens for my beauty slot but I cant help it. Its just how women measure beauty and as much as I dont want to conform to that idea, I'm already player in it.
It took over an hour for someoneto approach me with their meaty eyes!. Keep in mind,usually its not thw most flattering look, being wyeballed by pussy hungary mutants but tonight twas sort of a relief.
In the sea full of weaves and wigs, no sane sudanese man would flock over to a girl with no hair. Its almost blasphemous. Your friends would consider you," ghey" and to my strictly conservative and traditional culture, you would be declared an outcast. But luckily a few took that risk
(Picked this back up sober)
I believe the highlight of my night went kind of like this.
Him: Whats your snapchat?
Me: UH I should probably tell you, Im a feminist.
Him: 😐

I cant tell if that makes people more interested in me, or causes them to flee like Im some sort of parasite. Either way, sounds like a win win situation for me.

In related news, I have found myself getting upset over my desecrating brain cells. I have a couple years until my brain fully develops and my alcohol consumption is slowing that down. Truly, Im concerned that each shot takes away 10 smart points from my brains life. Each shot takes away a neuron that could have possibly been the answer to curing cancer!!!!
Moral of the story: Don't drink if you want to be smart.