Crazy In Love

‘You are my downfall

You are my muse

My worst distraction.

My heads underwater but I’m breathing fire.

Your crazy and I’m out of my mind.

Coz all of me, loves all of you.’

Do you think about that kind of love that people write about?

The love that makes you crazy.

Makes everything spin. Makes you do crazy out of this world things.

Gives you the strength to be whatever you THINK you can be?

Remember that love?

Then remember how you gave it up.

Some kinds of love are too hot to hold in your heart.

It exhilarates and sets free, just as much as it burns and hurts.

The types of love that makes you cry just as much as it makes you laugh.

Yes it exists.

Not exactly like the movies. Or the novels.

Coz memories and imagination likes rounded out curves.

But love is nothing LIKE rounded out.

Its jagged. And cruel. And kind. And beautiful. So beautiful, it hurts to look at.

Kind of like an Orchid.

Ever thought of how something so beautiful, is so ugly?

Ever look at an Orchid really closely?

If you look from afar, with a half-glance, you see the unbelievable beauty.

But look too closely, and you see the ANIMAL nature of the markings on the petals. The cruel patterns, that look like open, jagged mouths. Or faces of some kind of alien creature. And it makes you feel so uncomfortable your skin crawls.

That’s love.

Its animal. And its ugly. But its beautiful all the same.

Not for everyone ey?

Which is why most of us, we settle for puppy love.

The kind that warms your heart, and tickles your feet.

That other kind, it wants to crack open your skull and bring out the crazy.

And ain’t nobody got time for that


Writing Is Like Riding A Bike

You don’t forget.

You just get rusty.

Writing is like riding a bike.

We were in La Rochelle, France. Me and my bestie, Munirah. We had rented bright silver velos (bicycles) and were going to cycle round this beautiful island surrounded by azure blue seas.

Mine had a giant basket, and I felt the taste of adventure in the wind.

Until I got on the bike, wobbled, and fell.


Munirah was laughing her butt off.

She said: ‘I thought people can’t forget how to ride a bike!’

Well, they can’t. But they do get rusty.

I hadn’t ridden since I was 12 years old. Thats a certain number of long, long years ago.

So, I got back on the bike, fell a few more times and garnered several pitiful looks from the calm bike-riding Frenchies cycling past me.

But, I eventually stopped wobbling, stopped falling (Thank God!) and got the hang of it!

Hello, writing!

Bear with me, as I wobble over my sentences, and trip over my phrases.

I will eventually get back into the swing of writing.

As I will, into the swing of READING, which of course, is the life-partner of writing.

Love you all.


It’s easy to fall in love, but its special to STAY in love’ Unknown


Marriage Is For Losers

Marriage Is For Losers

The third kind of marriage is not perfect, not even close. But a decision has been made, and two people have decided to love each other to the limit, and to sacrifice the most important thing of all—themselves. In these marriages, losing becomes a way of life, a competition to see who can listen to, care for, serve, forgive, and accept the other the most. The marriage becomes a competition to see who can change in ways that are most healing to the other, to see who can give of themselves in ways that most increase the dignity and strength of the other.  These marriages form people who can be small and humble and merciful and loving and peaceful.

And they are revolutionary, in the purest sense of the word.

What I Need From A Marriage

1. To be treated gently.

Because I come from a place where I have been treated so roughly, and insensitively by the vicious voices of my peers, friends and family. 

2. To be granted ample freedom and space within my relationship.

Because authority figures have invaded every area of my life allowing no room for freedom of choice all my life. So that my life has been a lifelong journey of rebellion. I don’t want my marriage to be.

3. To be affirmed.

Because I have a deep need for affirmation and attentiveness and a sense of belonging. Since I haven’t managed to get that from anywhere else.

4. To be accepted and understood

5. To be paid attention to.

6. To be forgiven for being imperfect. And loved for it.

7. To be listened to. 

Because the only one who has ever really listened to me, was me. It would be nice to have more than an audience of one for a change.

8. To be kissed, and hugged, and told Im beautiful. Every few hours of the day. Every day.

9. To be treated like a Queen, a new romantic interest, a girlfriend, and a wife, all in one. That means dates, and presents, and long make out sessions.

10. To be allowed to love you back, in all the ways from 1-9.


Doomed to dance the same routine

Like a marionette in an empty theatre


Ghostly applause


At my bleeding feet

How To Sell Yourself

Bangladeshi wedding at Dhaka

Have you ever thought how much you are worth?

If you had to lay out your best attributes and features one by one.

How much do you think you would be worth?

Not monetary wise – but your worth.

Your value.

Would you be a catch?

If so, what makes you think you ARE a catch?

Are you:









Family oriented?

What positive attributes do you think garner more value?


I was thinking about the past.

And how a certain ex, could have been considered by many as a very appealing or, if you will, worthy package.

However, it meant naught to me.

It was like having a massive, juicy burger in your hands.

Yet, you are craving a pizza.

No matter how nice that burger is. You just don’t feel like it.

You want a pizza!

But one persons pizza….is another persons burger.


I am beginning to talk in circles and metaphors – eek!


My point is… (yes, there was a point after all. Honest! ;-))…. we all have somebody out there for us.

Because our exact packaging, though not so weighty to some – may be incredibly valuable to others.

So ‘Excellent cook, listener, calm and quiet ‘ could be exactly what someone is looking for.

Whilst ‘ Noisy, adventurous, humorous and loves to travel’ could be somebody else’s dream husband.

Don’t sell yourself short.

You are worthy.

It’s all about a good sales pitch! 😉

How To Ruin Your Life by Road Movies


Get stuck. Stay in one place your whole life. Always order vanilla even though the menu is four pages long. Become the type of person who sends back lattes. Save up your money for a plasma TV instead of a plane ticket. Talk a lot about things you know nothing about. Have an affair with someone you don’t even find attractive.

Refuse to forget your ex. Make it impossible for yourself to do anything without remembering that you used to do it with them. Hug your knees under the sheets and think about how safe you felt when they held you at night. Remind yourself daily of how empty you feel. Find new ways to make yourself sad.

Get drunk all the time. Consider no Saturday night, national holiday or extended happy hour complete without a vodka-induced breakdown. Graduate college but keep drinking like you’re still in it. Notice that cheap beer tastes watery and stale when you drink it alone but drink it anyway. Look at old Facebook photos wasted and wonder where everyone went.

Never drink. Never do anything that could potentially be “bad” for you. Treat your body like the temple it is and say no to carbs, yes to wheatgrass, go to bed at ten sharp and turn down cake on your birthday. Take fifteen different dietary supplements. Monitor carefully. Succumb to nothing. Miss out on everything.

Compare yourself constantly, to everyone. Allow the standards of image-obsessed, age-obsessed culture to make you feel decrepit at 25. Scroll through skinny girls on Tumblr feeling wistful and inadequate. Pull at the skin on your hipbones, stomach, and underarms in the mirror. Sigh a lot. Sigh all the time.

Don’t fall in love with anyone or anything. Put an impenetrable wall between yourself and other people. Add a fire-breathing dragon and eight yards of barbed wire. Be suspicious of everyone’s motives. Hold grudges long after you’ve forgotten what for.

Fall in love with everyone and everything. Run after the next best thing like it’s a bus you’re perpetually late for. Throw your heart into every other stranger’s hands and be genuinely surprised to be hurt. Refuse to learn. Refuse to ever learn.

Africa, My Mother.

Warm sun beating on darkened brow.

Heavy kisses of a humid day.

A welcoming handshake,

In an African smile.


I wish I was stronger.

I wish I was braver.

I wish I was louder.

I wish I took up more space.

I wish.

I wish.

I wish.

I wish I didn’t envy her for what I am not.



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