Man...

I thought some black girls had the cheek to wander around with jacked up weaves until I started to see so many uneducated white girls with theirs...


Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...

Love

Is?
Could be?
Maybe...
In my dreams all is settled.
I no longer feel frustration rise or fall with the moon and I am confident in my knowledge that hearts do beat for me.
In my dreams I look deep into dark eyes and no longer see pools of distance, walls of separation or shadows of lost attraction.
Communication is double sided.
Affection is second nature.
Love?
It is the soft and comforting, innocent presence of a teddy bear.
In my dreams at least.

Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...

I'm thinking...

... That you're gonna have to get yourself a new bag because this one is happy with me...

Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...

Merry Go 'round.

I wonder if you realise what it does to me...
The fear of knowing that any overt display of emotion results in deeper tunnels being forged.
Colder exteriors being built.
Standing on the periphery...I wait.
Having learnt to ride the wave I tense myself for the inevitable burst and swell.
The marks I cover well.
Emotionally turned over by the fear.
Because I already know what it will bring.
Apparently you believe that to show emotion is something to be ashamed of because apparently it is a sign of weakness but shutting out those that love you is apparently a strength.

Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...

I wish I had written this...

Ellie Goulding - Ellie Goulding 'The Writer' on MUZU.

The Writer By Ellie Goulding

You wait for a silence
I wait for a word
Lie next to your frame
Girl unobserved
You change your position
And you are changing me
Casting these shadows
Where they shouldn't be

We're interrupted by the heat of the sun
Trying to prevent what's already begun
You're just a body
I can smell your skin
And when I feel it, you're wearing thin

But I've got a plan
Why don't you be the artist; and make me out of clay?
Why don't you be the writer and decide the words I say?
Because I'd rather pretend
I'll still be there at the end
Only it's too hard to ask... won't you try to help me

Sat on your sofa...it's all broken springs
This isn't the place for those violin strings
I try out a smile and I aim it at you
You must have missed it
You always do

But I've got a plan
Why don't you be the artist; and make me out of clay?
Why don't you be the writer and decide the words I say?
Because I'd rather pretend
I'll still be there at the end
Only it's too hard to ask... won't you try to help me

You wait, I wait, casting shadows, interrupted
You wait, I wait, casting shadows, interrupted
You wait, I wait, casting shadows, interrupted
You wait, I wait, casting shadows

Why don't you be the artist; and make me out of clay?
Why don't you be the writer and decide the words I say?
Because I'd rather pretend
I'll still be there at the end
Only it's too hard to ask... won't you try to help me

Why don't you be the artist; and make me out of clay?
Why don't you be the writer and decide the words I say?
Because I'd rather pretend
I'll still be there at the end
Only it's too hard to ask... won't you try to help me

Ramble

Sad contemplations swallow the comforting seat of the familiar.
A lot can happen in the space of 4, almost 5, days.
Minds search for the truth and hearts feel around in the dark.
I am a little bit empty now.
Patterns that should have become something different are still just as repetitive and I fear that lessons will never be learnt.
Weary from the palaver of it all.
Month, after month, after month of the same.
Situations ensnared in the domino effect.
Overlapping contradictory stories that still result in the very same birds eye view.
Disappointment.
Lots of it.
Lots
Of it.

Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...

Travelling.

The silence always comes when I want the noise the most.

Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...

And don't I know it...

Natalie Fiawoo ® Blogging on the go...