I light up in the dark.
I shine brightly for all to see.
I guide you when you are lost.
I am full of love and comfort and knowledge.
I am fragmented yet whole in each piece.
I am your voice of reason.
I am always here.
I am the lesson of life.
I am Bright Fragments.
I live on.
I live on in your memory.
I live on in your veins, in your blood.
I live on in your principles.
I live on in your thoughts.
I live on in your prayers.
I live on in your love.
I live on in my love for you.
I live on, and I am with you always.
I Live On.
For those who have lost someone close, someone special, someone loved. They live on, and they live in you.
Imagine your hands as part of your personality.
Who you are shows through in your handwriting. It’s a unique expression of your true self. So how sad is it that there aren’t that many opportunities to write anymore? I mean, with so many gadgets available these days, one doesn’t really need to pen words as such. Okay, cheques and greeting cards still require a pen, but what happens if/when those go electronic as well? Will handwriting become obsolete? Now there’s a freaky thought.
I don’t know, I was just thinking about it one day. Blank Hands. Our fingers can fly like crazy over any keyboard or on any screen, but what about our hands? Can they still paint a portrait of one if they remain one step removed? You know, bring on any communication device and they’re raring to go, but when it comes to pen and paper they’re suddenly blank? Yeah, like that.
I think it’s important to write with your hands often. Not just because one should know how to form legible letters, but also because it is a facet of one’s character. Writing anything by hand adds a personal touch, you know? Shopping lists, notes to remind yourself or someone else to do/get something, scraps of paper with your ideas on them….all these bear your mind’s indelible print when they’re handwritten.
Anyway, maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing. Or not. Whatever the case, don’t let your hands go blank.
Hi hi. A while back I mentioned that my mum wrote her first novel, so I am very proud to announce that it has been published and is now in the market. Dark Patches by Azuka Thomson is the story of a Nigerian couple and the effects of family interference on their marriage. Objectively speaking, it’s a really good read. Yes I know you might think that I’m biased because it’s my mum’s book but I promise you I am not. It is just that good. Immerse yourself in this vividly emotional story and emerge enlightened, thrilled, and wanting more! 😀
It is currently available on www.amazon.com, www.amazon.co.uk, and under English Books at www.amazon.de. For those of you on Facebook, her page is Azuka Thomson – Dark Patches. Take a look and see if it works for you or not. There’re some excerpts from the first chapter and I think you’ll find yourself drawn in. If you do dig it, click on the “like” button and spread the word! 
If you can relate to the following, if you have found yourself thinking or saying these words, you’ve been here.
“I feel numb, hollow. I feel like it was a mistake to open up. I feel like I just want to be part of something real and every time I think I’m getting there, it falls apart. And if we were friends before, the friendship’s never quite the same afterwards. Sometimes it’s awkward, stilted, other times it just snuffs out without warning. I know it’ll be OK eventually. I just don’t know if I can trust enough to keep letting people in if they’re just going to knock me for six every single time. I know I’m probably quick to get attached, but even when I don’t start it, one minute everything’s fine and the next it implodes. I’m so tired of it, man, so goddamn tired. Tired of getting blindsided. OK so I’m not the most experienced or savvy person in the world, but surely I must mean enough to someone for him not to be a total bastard? And therein lies the rub. I don’t think I mean enough, if much at all. That’s what hurts the most.”
I wrote the above back in June, felt pretty low at that time. I never thought it’d see the light of a public forum, but maybe we need to reveal our innermost thoughts sometimes. Not because we are whining or wallowing in self-pity, but because we might be able to help others suffering similar angst. All too often when one cries out for solace, you just get empty platitudes in return, or even worse, someone tells you to “get over it”. Like you don’t know that already? *Eye roll*
Listening is an art form. It goes beyond the interpretation of another person’s sound waves. It is more than simply hearing them out and saying something, anything, to move the conversation in a more comfortable/enjoyable direction. It involves actually processing information and providing thoughtful feedback, recognising the emotions behind the words and giving the appropriate responses. Of course if the person says the same things over and over again, feel free to let them know that they might require more professional help than you can deliver, LOL.
Seriously, though. Listen. You never know when it will make a world of difference to a person in need.
We need.
We want.
We ache.
We desire.
We crave.
We feel.
We hope.
We believe.
And we know. That Love is out there. Waiting to be discovered and sampled.
We hold on because Love is out there. Waiting.
It takes a strong man to handle a strong woman.
Wait. Before you roll your eyes and mutter “So what else is new?”, think about it. Why is it that some men have to compensate for their inferiority complexes by maltreating their partners? One husband gives his beautiful wife reason to doubt her looks and appeal to other men. Some boyfriend picks at his girlfriend’s self-esteem and does his best to whittle away her independence. Yet another dude habitually pummels his significant other then begs for forgiveness later (or not, depends). Why? Why??
Simple. They don’t belong together. He’s out of her league. After all, if you don’t feel threatened by someone, why would you attack that person at any and every chance you get? If you’re compelled to maintain the upper hand in order to feel secure in your relationship, obviously you’ve got problems and they ain’t with your partner.
Anyway, I was just thinking. Equal measures. Strong and weak do not go well together. Not healthy at all.
It takes two equals to make a good match, and that’s the honest truth. So if you do not measure up, improve yourself. Making the other person pay for your deficiency is just petty, wrong, even juvenile. So grow and get your act right.
As a warning, the following post was written in complete desperation. I have recently learned some very sobering truths from people that I love dearly. These truths have set in motion a quest within me to do whatever I can to make a change. Today is not geared at funny. Today is geared at something greater. Read it to the very end. I promise you will be affected in a way you have always needed to be. I spent more than twelve hours writing this post because its message is that important to me.
I wonder. Am I the only one aware that there is an infectious mental disease laying siege on us right now? There is a serious pandemic of “Perfection” spreading, and it needs to stop. Hear me out because this is something for which I am passionately and constantly hurting. It’s a sickness that I’ve been trying to put into words for years without much success. It’s a sickness that I have personally struggled with. It’s a sickness that at times has left me hiding in dark corners and hating myself.
And chances are it’s hit you too.
What is the disease called “Perfection”? Perhaps a list of its real-life symptoms will help you better understand it. We live in communities where people feel unconquerable amounts of pressure to always appear perfectly happy, perfectly functional, and perfectly figured. “Perfection” is much different than perfectionism. The following examples of “Perfection” are all real examples that I have collected from experiences in my own life, from confidential sources, or from my circle of loved ones and friends. If you actually stop to think about some of these, you will cry as I did while writing it. If you don’t, maybe you’re infected with way too much of this “Perfection” infection. Continue reading
Scar tissue. Everybody’s got some, I think. On the body, under your skin, in your soul, on your heart. Nobody makes it through life without some scars to show for it. We breathe, we eat, we sleep, we think, we feel, we get hurt. Basic truths.
Anyway, as I ruminated on scar tissue, I thought about old wounds that never heal. Past hurts, slights, betrayals, actual injuries…however you look at it, there are parts of you so painful you never want to probe or even be aware of them.
So you can imagine how it feels when something smacks you in the face and forces you to remember, to experience, to hurt all over again.
Maybe that’s why we avoid those who remind us of our pain, those who plunge us back into that deep black ocean we try so hard to escape from, even those who mean well but bring back the past anyway.
Scar tissue. Just a thought.
Waning under this deathly hold
Yielding to lack of affection, turning cold
Failing to meet society’s expectations
Caught in a web of many representations
Always on the outside trying to fit in
Slamming against brick walls erected from within
Constantly gathering pieces of shattered hopes
Clumsily trying to walk life’s tightropes.