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Realeboga M Mar 2016
"Insecurities are the worst demons to live with", she stands at the podium.
"Can anyone tell me what insecurities are?", she stares in front, looking at the ten students who were presumed to be messed up by the school board.

A boy with a blue hoodie raises his hand.
"Insecurities are our fears of our fears coming true, it's the absence of feeling safe or secure. Which leads to an emotional turmoil of trying to fix them. To ignore them but ultimately they end up taking us", he speaks confidently as his head is bowed.

"Have you had your fair share of insecurities? ", the girl walks up to him and crouches. She notices the exhaustion in his demeanour, the pain, hidden secrets. And death in his green eyes.
He stares at her brown eyes, filled with sincerity and concern along with a dose of hope. She finally found them.

"Haven't we all?", a girl with grey blonde hair speaks up.
Heads turn and look into her direction.
She plays with the hem of her shirt,
"We started off carefree. Young and willing to explore, we meet people who change our lives who make worthwhile but then others. I don't know about them but they take parts of us and play with them, they toy around with them and then drop us. Like old unwanted toys. We begin to wonder, question our hearts, search our minds trying to figure out where we went wrong and that hurts. We then build unnecessary yet necessary theories as they begin to make sense.  That's when they lurk in. That's how we get them", her voice shakes

The boy with the hoodie sighs, "And to think that's only the first part of them", he looks at the lady and croaks his head, "Studies show that we can get rid of these insecurities but I don't know. I've tried all these measures all the ways of getting rid of them but they don't ever leave. They stay, they don't even lurk in. Shucks depression is nicer than being insecure. Depression leaves for a while. But this", he shakes his head and massages his temples.

The lady walks up to the podium and sighs, "Being insecure is a painful thing to experience because with insecurities comes more demons willing to take advantages of you, willing to destroy you trust me I know"

A girl with glasses begins to laugh, "Everyone here knows that Miss, we're all insecure, this could be in terms of our grades, our love lives, our family, our lifestyle, our sexuality, we are all insecure. But the question here is how do we get rid of them? How do we feel normal? How do we get rid of this insane feeling, the hostility we feel from our own selves. How!?" She pushes her glasses.

The lady sighs once again, staring at the girl. She closes her eyes, "I don't know. I believe there's no way out with insecurities. They manifest inside us, they evolve and they become stronger. All I do is face them head first. I stopped thinking and accepted them. I am insecure and I am learning to accept that I am not perfect"

"Do you think that's the answer Miss", the boy with a red bandana scratched his head.
"Acceptance?" His voice heavy with a British accent.

"You said you learned to accept your imperfections and here you are now. Talking to us about our issues. Does this mean you're no longer insecure?" He furrowed his eyebrows.
"Does this mean there's hope for us?" He smiled exposing his pearly whites.

The lady sighed, pondering on how to answer that.
" I don't think that's what she meant", the boy with the hoodie speaks up.
"What she means is that once we learn to accept them like she did. We can learn to move on. To live with them. And truth is they won't hurt us as much as they do now. I mean we know we're not perfect and its okay. It's about acceptance and appreciation of our scars"
Realeboga M Mar 2016
Sometimes I just read my work.
I read, analyse and get flashbacks.
From the pain, to the confusion to the love and back to the pain.
The nightmares to my greatest dream and back again to my nightmares.

My work reminds me of how hard my life has been. How painful it has been.
I read my work not all of it but the ones I can handle I read.
I see a child in me then, searching for freedom within my heart.
Searching for some parts of me that I lost.
But then I read a piece further than that. The piece where I gave up on searching for the lost part of me because by then I would have evolved.
Turned into someone stronger who still carries the heavy weight of my past.

Sometimes I read a piece, the ones I'm not supposed to touch and I collapse, my body relapses.
Goes in a neutral stance of holding my legs close to my chest, rocking myself back and forth and asking for the memories to disappear.

But sometimes they don't and I end up appreciating that. I write more about it. Put on a smile and move on. I can't always be down.

And on most days I write about her, my smile, my freedom. The one girl who has picked me up from the darkness and is still picking me up. I'm picking her up as  well. It's like we're saving each other. I write about her and write and write and write and write till my hearts content.

Sometimes I read my work and realise there are people who read it too and I am grateful.
Realeboga M Mar 2016
I want to feel more.
The burn in my lungs.
The iron in my throat,
The bitter metal taste in my mouth
I want to feel more.

I want every part of my body to ache.
To yearn for more.
To scream in agony as my heart flatters in excitement.

There's no greater feeling than physical pain to relieve the emotional but I seem not find that.
No matter how strained my body is.
Realeboga M Feb 2016
I want to feel you
Trace every part of my body with your fingers
Make my body scream
In the grasps of ecstasy

Let your eyes linger onto me
As your fingers make trails on my skin
Caress my *******, my stomach, my legs
And more

I want your tongue
To ******* body
I want you to kiss me
Kiss me until I am out of breath
Devour me
All of me
Make me surrender

Let me feel you,
Trace every part of your body with my fingers,
My tongue,
Till your body screams in the grasps of ecstasy.

Let my eyes linger onto you,
As my fingers make trails on your skin,
Let me feel you,
Feel your body tremble as I caress your breast, stomach, legs
And many more.
Baby let me listen to the sounds you make as your body explodes.

I want to taste you
Inside out
I want my tongue to take all of you in
I want to kiss you,
Kiss you until I'm out of breath
Let me devour you.
Surrender to me baby.
Credits to my wifey for writing this with me <3
Realeboga M Feb 2016
"I know this is all imagined. That its all in my head but I need closure. Whether it's with you or some mental part of me I need closure.
I've fallen deep in love with this girl. She makes me smile and happy but parts of you pull me away from giving her my all. By parts of you I mean the stains you left. The bruises of trust issues, the third degrees of insecurity and scars. So many scars of I know you're going to leave me soon", I bowed my head and clenched my fists.

"You broke me and left me to pick the pieces. You broke me and left me to blame myself for them. I felt as if I wasn't good enough or that I am not capable of loving someone. That I am only here to cause pain", my voice cracked.

"I need to understand why. Because I can't accept you hurt me when I was the one left in corners crying because of the way you were emotionally and mentally destroying me", I cleared my throat

"Please make me understand", the sounds of desperation roared from my voice.

She sighs and sits on the floor with her legs criss crossed. She plays with the hem of her red shirt and sighs again.

"I'm in your head. An illusion you set in your head to answer such questions. But will I really help you", she grazes her fingers on her bottom lip.

"I mean I'll basically be telling you the words you want to hear. I'll be filling your mind and heart with it was all my fault and you did nothings. But what if the reality is you did hurt me. Would you expect me to tell it to you then?" She cocked her head and laughed.

"I've had people call me an ******* for not treating you right. I tried to explain to them. But I never understood it. I didn't respond a text. I couldn't because I so emotionally drained for a month. You didn't want to talk to me. For once in my entire life I just couldn't. I was tired. But that doesn't mean I ran away or tried to hurt you. For all we know I went to sleep. But you. You told people I started to ignore you.Started to treat you like ****. But all I ever did was love you. With each and every part of me, when I needed you. You brushed me off, you turned me against a lot of people. Caged me in. But I stayed. Why didn't you stay when I was suffering the most. Why did you walk away?", I cleared my throat and hunched my back
"Why?", my voice cracked.

"The truth. The one you were trying so hard to be blind to. The I love yous' felt forced to you. They didn't feel real but you brushed them off, the way I would look at you didn't feel right. But your craving and need to find love made you blind to all those. The truth and the only truth was I never loved you in that way. Maybe you were a rebound, I was just up for having fun", she stood up and dusted herself off.

"That's all", she walked away
Realeboga M Feb 2016
"You're supposed to write so that you heal", she whispers.
"Have you forgotten your purpose?"
She nods her head in disappointment.
"You're falling back. And you know very well no one can catch you. Hence why you write.
So that the paper holds on carefully to your scars so that it takes in all your bruises. So that your hands itch not to hurt themselves but to relieve themselves with a pen, a pencil anything. As long as it feels the texture of paper."
"Stop falling back!" She shouts.

I looked at her. I didn't allow her words to sink in. I just looked at her.
Her hazel eyes piercing into my dark brown.
Her eyebrows furrowed with anger and jaws clenched from burning my heart.

"I can't" I exhale.
"I'm too broken to write.
I love the book. I can't stain it with so much pain to the extent that I  can't look at it. I don't read my own work because it traumatises me.
So yes I'm falling back because I can't hurt my book. I want it to be filled with happiness. At least let it tell the story of my shining days.
I can't hurt it", my knees buckle as I fall to the floor.

"I don't want to", I sniffle
"Don't let me", I clench my fists feeling the cold tiles against my knuckles.

She goes down on her knees.
Pulls her hair back and clears her throat.
"You have to write"
"If you don't..." she pauses.
Clears her throat once again and sniffles
"I'll lose you too", she bows her head.

I lifted her chin up and looked into her puffy eyes.
"I hate to make you cry", I sighed.
"But what point is saving myself when we both already lost you?" I whispered.

"Don't say that", her voice shook.
I closed my eyes and sighed.
Slowly removed my hand from her chin and stood up.

"Why do I have to be the one who's alive in this when I long lost you?" I brushed my hair back.
"I just don't get it", I said barely above a whisper, I slouched in defeat.

"Because you're saving me", her voice cracked.
Realeboga M Feb 2016
I promise to write till I have no words with me.
I will write till I've exceeded my limit and can no longer do no more.
And even once my hands are unable to write, I will stay loyal to you.
I will admire the art that you are.

At my lowest,
You held my hands and listened to my withering heart.
You locked eyes with my darkest holes and smiled.
You gave me a pen and whispered, "Write.Anywhere, colour your pain and let me feel it"

During my drought,
We fought.
Countless of times.
I began to lose hope in us but you stayed.
You pushed pens, pencils and papers in my direction and told me to write.
"Good or bad just write, I'm not here to judge", you sang to me.
But I refused.
Blocking your lullaby because I was afraid.
Afraid that I would let you down if it was bad.
I only wanted the best for you.
The best from me.

The drought got worse.
I couldn't write and my heart ached
My souls cried,
My hands itched.
I was craving you.
So I wrote.
Good or bad because ultimately
You won't judge me.

During my moments of happiness.
I wrote a lot,
I wrote till the tips of my hands turned purple.
Till I could feel my own heart beat synchronise with the movement of the pen.
Till my arm cried in pain as my triceps and biceps contracted and relaxed.
I could not stop.
I simply still cannot stop.

You watched me write.
You watched my body grow in anticipation.
Grow anxious to touch a pen.
You smiled and whispered to me
"You're finally writing your heart"

I turned back and looked at you.
Engraved with people's lives.
Coloured with their greatest dreams and nightmares.
Inked with so much of their emotions.

I laughed and turned back.
Jotted down so gracefully.
"She is my heart"
I haven't posted since the beginning of the year. I missed it but I'm back kinda rusty though
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