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Feels Like a Hot Ice cube

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This is my first blog after the suicide note.... I have been thinking about it for a long time, it scares, am no longer whom I used to be. I was a closed book on the shelf, now I am an open book on the street, and many have read me. Being all over the media with ny story is chilling, and it not a good feeling. Most think that it is the road to healing, but no, it is not. The road to healing is quiet and private, inside my psychologist's room and inside my head. This other public road is a sacrifice, a sacrifice I have made for the young girls and boys growing up who should never experience rape. A sacrifice for my cousin who hanged himself before having had the chance to share the pain he felt, and so I sacrifice so that no one has to die the suicidal way. A sacrifice for those who are close to people with suicidal ideations, so that they do not throw them out to the dogs for misinformation. A sacrifice for the Mental Health community, that has been shut off due the invisibi...
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TELLING MY UNTOLD

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As a young girl, the news of my pregnancy hit me hard like Hurricane Katrina. I was disappointed in myself, I could not come to terms with the thought of a bulging tummy, the thought of a crying baby- I loved my sleep too much to think of interruptions. I crept into denial, refused to accept that I was going to be a mother leave alone accepting my readiness for motherhood. I weighed my options, I thought of how I could hide away deliver the young and sell it then resurface back to my 'fun' world, but even then motherhood was slowly creeping into my system and I could not bare to abandon the young in me. I started taking photos, going for belly arts, swimming and other things that made me feel I wasn't slowly losing my life. It was the longest 7 months(I only got to learn of it at 8 weeks) of my life. The course of my life was changing, priorities shifted, decision determiners changed, I practically found a whole new me. At 4 months I met a lady who complimente...
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Sexless Orgasms

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I am not sure I can quite relate to most people’s definition of love, but I am certain that for those who have experienced the infamous orgasm, we can agree on its definition. Back in the day, when I was growing up, hooking up with a man meant going to a RESTAURANT for lunch or coffee if you were lucky, then he would take you home and hug you goodbye or give you a peck if you were lucky. For the men, getting a girl to your ‘cubicle’ was hard enough, leave alone convincing her that one shot would not get her pregnant. And actually, if a man got lucky to convince her about that first shot, instead of the second coming easy, the second never came. That was when men valued that one girl who found him special enough to taste the cookie. Fast forward to the digital age where girls actually ask men out, take them to their houses, and then dispose them before dawn after use. Please note the asking out part is for intoxication purposes only not to build some sort of a bond. So I remember ...
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