I tired to find one
Ones heart who could mend my void
no voices where heard

I have invested too much effort in rebuilding my sanctuary to let fools throw stones at it or to allow them to break its windows.
I am unafraid to walk my path alone.
What I fear is letting the wrong individuals into my garden.
The mere presence and toxic energy of some people can uproot what has taken years to cultivate.
I will tend to my garden and watch my soul thrive.
I will take back my voice.
After all, this is my life.

-Rhia Clay

@niamornimo

Its funny that writers live their lives on pen and paper,
Bloggers, poets, journalists even preachers.
I say this not because I've seen them but because I'm one.
The thing that people call content is an outlet of our lives as writers expressed.
Their are days when words flood out of our minds to paper like geniuses with numbers in the cloud,
Then days when it's radio silent. Our pen and paper are distant like the home built in the suburbs visited once for Christmas.
Yeah we seek for mojo in literally everything and when life hits you with a pause then...
Finding words is hard like saying ;I love you to a crush who vowed never to love again,
Like telling your parent I love you because you forgave them without them having to ask,
Like buying a birthday gift for an ex who told you, you're never good enough for him,
Like looking at yourself in the mirror and saying I Forgive You meaning every word coz as you go around gifting everyone handouts of Love and embrace the one you come back home to is YOU.

Yes the dilemma of a writer is not finding words or expression but
Stillness in life, that radio silence when all hell has broken loose.
The shell you cave in just numbing all the feels that bombard your normalcy.

Don't get me started on getting out the shell to find out everyone else moved on but You.
Coming back is brutal the pen and paper feels like an oasis in a dessert and you're not thirsty.