Is it true that they say for you to be not naive you have to experience it over and over again until your heart feels nothing when what excites you disappoints you? Rejection is the most feeling I know. In which it is why I sometimes remain to myself. I don’t express my feelings too easy because in my mind I will keep thinking ‘he will say no’ then it’s the career I think they will just judge me like the pictures without even witnessing my full potential and get ‘no’. I was recently pencilled for an extra role, I mean I know it’s a small role, probably no one would have noticed my face on screen but it would have been my fist appearance on TV but they asked for my selfie, I prayed since that day, I cancelled shifts at work for the dates they had put for me and I even dreamt they were going to comfirm me but guess what, I can’t even get an extra role. It felt okay because as much as I expected to get the role, a big part of me knew I was not going to get it because I seem to have ‘reject’ written in big bold block letters on my forehead. I mean the most thing I can’t let go is my audition for RADA. My heart breaks when I remember it. It was so great, I felt my dream so close and no one will ever understand how I feel when I am acting. I can never love anyone or anything as much as I love acting. They told me ‘we loved your audition, you have an amazing personality and you are an incredible letter but…” then that second I recalled a quote I’d once analysed from a film ‘the words before the word but don’t matter because what they really mean is the words after it’. And I read it ‘but unfortunately we just don’t think you are right for this course.’ In other means I am not right for them. I cried for days. It was the hardest time of my life where I felt like until I break no one will notice my courage and tenacity towards acting. 

Now I feel my tears bloating in my heart and I feel it coming to my throat. I am fighting every nerve that tells me to cry because i hate feeling weak. Acting is my strength and Everytime I get rejected I feel my strength is constantly being taken away from me. My family they are laughing at me for choosing such a career because they think I am not strong enough for it. Despite that I know I am strong enough for it, what if they are right? My pride is one of my biggest parts of me, nothing would kill me like seeing them feign to be sorry when I fail to be an actress. 

Mom had told me to not tell anyone about it because even if I had my doubts Mom was the most supportive woman ever. I know she had doubts too but she would tell me that they will definitely take me. 

Maybe one day I won’t be rejected. Maybe one day I will actually do what makes me happy. Because Mom believes I can make it. I believe I can make it but my strength is decreasing. 

It didn’t hurt when they told me I wasn’t getting the role, but what hurt was the way I was happy all these past days. It felt like a sign that I was on the right path. 

What if I will never be a published author or an actress? I know I won’t let it happen but the universe seems to say otherwise 


In life we take every second, minute and every hour almost for granted. That is why we never see it coming and why we can never predict it because any hour could be the last. Any hour could be the first and it always passes. Some people celebrate Christmas, birthdays and so on but Nelly Josephs and John Josephs had learned the art of celebrating every passing second. After surviving death at the brutal car accident, Mr Joseph had the sudden realisation of the meaning of life and the love he had for his wife. Now she was 80 years old battling cancer. Mr Josephs gave her her medication and she asked him to lay by her side.  “John, do you remember how we first met?” She asked, every word echoes a promise of death. It broke Mr Josephs because he knew at any time he would lose her. “Oh darling don’t you remind me, I was a clumsy little boy” he laughed; or at least forced enjoyment to fill his cry. “I had just came from playing netball. Had lost with one goal. I was angry, so angry I could barely breath and then out of nowhere cold Sprite splashes all over my face and my chest.” She chuckled her chest wheezy like she had too much air in her lungs. 

“You looked at me like I had stolen your candy and I was about to have my face smacked” 

“I did smack you, right here” she says caressing his face. 

“I always considered it our first kiss because it was the moment I looked into your eyes and I knew I had fallen in love even if I didn’t know what love was” he said looking into her eyes remembering the day 72 years ago. They were only eight when that happened. 

“I don’t even know why I had a bottle of sprite in my hand. My mother never allowed me to drink fizzy” he laughed gently while not moving his eyes from hers. 

“It was because God had destined it for us.” She smiled. They cuddled together for a few more hours into the night and then Nelly asked for a glass of sprite. John went to get it and she sat up and they both clicked glasses and drank up. Since the age of eight and the beginning of their love, they always celebrated with a bottle of sprite instead of wine. So when he felt it in the middle of the night, felt her life leave her body. He kissed her cold skin and a tear fell. Despite that he had told himself that every hour was the last with his wife, when it happened it hurt but he wiped away the tears as his wife had made him promised that if the hour came, he would not cry. Instead, he should get a bottle of Sprite and have a drink. Celebrate every hour they spent together. And so they had celebrated their last hour.

It is a promise 

I am in thrall to my own torment of longing. My sensual senses are as sharp as the honed fangs of a new born vampire. Allured by the passion from the fields harvested by the depth of my desires that I am unbeknownst to. I am young and almost inferior in the field of love. My expression is harsh sometimes I moan due to the heat from the welt of eroticism that exerts the inconceivable amount of pleasure. I crave what I have never tasted like a poor child craving food he’s never ate. Constant arousal has become a tree that grows but never dies. I am wanton it’s unbearable. I do not long for being worshiped, the hegemonic feeling in me commands me to show one love that he’s believed to be absent. The kind of love that he has never heard of even in the scribes of love. Love that is audacious, love that seeks no authority and one that exerts affection and love without an apology and not expecting more back. Such longing couldbe deemed    for just sexual pleasure but it’s nonetheless spiritual. Cause through my blood I could feel a glowing magnificent hand touch me within. I will pulse, spasm as the electricity spikes through my blood stream. It’s not naivety when I know how to choose the recipient of my heart. They have always fallen in love with me but I have always fell in love with what is off limits because it’s undeniably who I am.  I love a little adventure because it scares me shitless while it hones me sharper. I will not bat my wings all over the place like a headless chicken. Patience may not be my virtue but I will not throw myself into the lustrous flames only to endure pain than love. I bid my eyes to notice he who comes with bad intention or dark desires to rip me from my pride and beauty until they become blinded by the grace and halo of the one man that is meant for me.

It is a promise. 

Am I lucky?

I feel you, like the ants inside the layer of my skin, 

Crawling affection alarming the bells that were dead,

Skin craving like your touch is a needle of affection

You haven’t touched me yet 

Hence I am inhaling the fumes of your craving for me all over your shaft like a shark smelling blood, 

Tainted lips across my skin, awakening the death of lust i had buried far within

Alive are my nipples yearning for your attention 

If my arousal could be water, my pants would be floating on an ocean

I have wanted you since the morning I laid my eyes on you, light gleamed in your eyes and I was beguiled; is it luck or lust?


The tale says only the lucky ones see a shooting star once in their lifetime, but as you sweetly and delicately present yourself into me, feel me wrap tight and warm around you like a glove, hear your groan of want and gratification vibrate from your throat as I lay my lips and taste the sweat on your skin; taste you – I see a million shooting stars, 


Does that mean I am lucky? 

Lucky enough to be the vessel that allows you to enter it with your magical wand, 

Glide into me like a snake that found a brand new cave 

Bite on to me like I am the forbidden fruit, one you will never ever have again

Kiss me like I am the passing second and you wouldn’t want to waste me

Lick my skin like I am glazed with honey and you can’t get enough of me

Hear me moan your name like a bird chirping in summer morning 

Slap your skin against mine in thrall to your own welt of pleasure 

Plough me like you are exerting yourself into me 

Fuck me like you’re straight out of prison, and I was your dream

Give me shooting stars while you glaze my lips with your love, ravish my pussy with your hunger and brand my body with your lust. 


I know it’s been a while guys but I have been extremely tired and lazy and as some of you know, I don’t have much inspiration these days. But it’s coming 😊

I hope you are all doing well, I went shopping today. Nothing makes a girl feel good like shopping. Only it’s been a long fucking day and now I am exhausted and just wanting to sleep. 

I just realised I never write stuff like this. I mostly get down to poems or stories and nothing else. It’s kinda cool. 

Anyway goodnight, 

(Found this on Instagram, it’s cool right?) 

There is nothing as blissfully peaceful as the days in oversized flannels at the comfort of your own house. Some oversized jeans – ripped jeans maybe and a book to feed your mind with the visuals the artistic mind has written for you. Escape reality as what happens in the book normally takes you out of this world, propel you  to feel the world outside yours. It’s never a mundane moment then, especially when it’s raining and you sit at the frame of  the window, allow the dainty lace curtain to caress across your skin. Awaken the hairs on your skin. Close your eyes and reminisce the touch of your lover. Watch the rain cascade from the skies and wash away the tears of the sad, water the flowers so they will bloom into roses tomorrow. Transfer into the magical realms built by the imagination of another of your kind. It’s inspirational.

There is nothing like a day in oversized flannels and oversized jeans in the comfort of your home. 

G’day everyone

13 questions TMI

I confess, I stole this from JL Peridot and I thought it was cool. It’s more like a TMI or a get to know me kind of thing. Go check out their blog it’s pretty cool and erotic.  I will answer these very honestly.

1. How do you hope to change as a person in the future? I hope to be more soft. I am a hard person and I tell it like it is and that makes me hurt people. If you watch the tv program suits, picture me as a female version if Harvey. So maybe I will like to soften up a bit. I also like attention. When I am in the room I want to wholly everyone and if someone takes the spotlight it pisses me off. So maybe I would like to be a bit soft on that. 

2. What keeps you up at night? I am extremely career driven and sometimes I think I allow that to keep me up at night.Anxiety  and thinking if every bad thing that could hinder my career. Other than that no matter how happy or sad I am, I rarely stay up at night unless I am watching a bunch of film. 

3. What’s the most surprising self-realisation you’ve had? I have had many haha. Waking up in the morning. Recently I realise that I have gained all the weight I worked off because gym is my favourite part of life but because I had been lazy I never woke up and went to gym and I found every excuse under the sun to not but then I went for shopping the other day and since that day, I am working my ass off. 

4. What lie do you tell the most? That I am happy single I guess. I don’t know man, I am a concealed person and I lie to keep my cover. I hate sharing my feelings so if I love someone I will lie that they didn’t hurt me when deep inside I am crying. I lie about my feeling more than anything. Otherwise, I barely lie. My mom hates that shit so she taught us to stay truthful. 

5. What do you regret not doing? I regret not learning to out myself first. I make people happy while I die inside and I regret not standing up and defending myself and learning to say no. 

6. What do you often look down on people for? Arrogance, negativity, bitchiness, procrastinating, whiny people really piss me off, people who cry about everything and not sorting shit. I have more but the list could go on. 

7. What do you think people look down on you for  the most? For being the most liked person in the room, being the funniest and that I have my shit together and for being the straightforward girl. 

8. What gives your life meaning? Doing what I love.

9. What bridges do you not regret burning? Useless people in my life. You hurt me I leave you. You bore me, I leave you behind. You annoy me, I will leave you behind. Basically I burn every bridge that is pointless in my life. 

10. What are you more insecure about? I don’t know to be honest but I know I am a bit insecure about how I look sometimes other than that, I don’t know. 

11. How do you get in the way of your own success? Being afraid to go out of my comfort zone, nervousness, overthinking. 

12. What’s one thing you wish you could go back and undo? I seriously don’t know. 

13. What are you afraid people see when they look at you? I am afraid people look at me like an intimidating person that they can’t be with. I am afraid people look at me like I am not a hard worker or I am not string enough. 

My goodness me I LOVE RIHANNA 

So she turned up in London for the Valerian premiere !!!!!!!!! and Jesus Christ from Nazareth, she looks like an angel I mean look: 

Look at that smile, look how red makes her look like the most amazing and romantic woman THAT SHE IS! My heart is beating so fast I am even having tears of joy despite the fact that I am so far away from London.

She is soooooo angelic I seriously have no words to describe just how much I admire her. She is such a strong young woman who has accomplished more than anyone can ever imagine for a woman her age. She is proof that dreaming harder and being passionate about what you do will always make you go higher and it will pay off.

So Fucking fierce and extremely sexy. She is my inspiration in so many ways. She inspires me every day and every time I wake up and feel like my dream is not making any progress I think about this young Barbadian girl who had accomplished so much and think that she didn’t give up because if she did, she wouldn’t be here and I certainly can’t even imagine who would be inspiring me as much as she does. 

Just look at her man!!!!! She is just amazing. As much as no one is perfect Rih is my figure of perfection. She is just… effortlessly amazing and look at her right now in london 4 hours away from were I am 😢😢😢😢 

I was so sad last year I couldn’t afford to go see her concert. In my life I haven’t been the kid from a rich family who can afford paying for shows and even when I had started work I still couldn’t but I swear I will meet her one day and my dream is I meet her through working on a film together cause she has started acting now 😍😍😍. I know it’s silly but hey… anything is possible. 

Just like it is possible to have such a beautiful soul in the world!! 

I am really really proud of her and how she has worked so hard and actually always make me optimistic about the future. I love her so much. Nobody can ever understand how much I love her. She is amazing. 

Life as an erotic romance writer 

A lot of people have perceptions about erotica and the erotic romance writers. I for certain, I sometimes feel like I have the dissociative identity disorder (DID) like I have six personalities, 

  1. An erotic one for when I am writing 
  2. One for friends (where I have to not be myself 
  3. One for the family (where I can’t think of myself only and where I have to spend time impressing people)
  4. One that’s depressed (single life can be shit and finance is also shit and body image… the list could go on) 
  5. The smart girl (at uni) 
  6. A loud talkative and assertive girl (work) 

Sometimes I feel like I am the narrator in  Fight club, my characters are a reflection of me and sometimes a better or worse reflection of me. I remember my first character ever was basically me with a different name and different location by similar circumstances. 

Being an erotic romance writer propels writers to almost feel annihilated by the world. I used to say ‘an artist should never feel ashamed or hide their own work‘ I take myself as an artist and half of the times I hide what I write. But one day I told myself to actually come out not hide because to me there is nothing wrong with it and my class mates found out. One day when I was talking to two of them they asked me how do I do it. I said I think it comes natural and the other one said to the other ‘don’t you think it’s weird writing and thinking about sex? Have you seen the stuff that these freaks write? They are messed up‘ in that moment I felt like I could burry myself in a hole. I felt like a freak but in a disgusting way. And more when his mate said ‘yeah, I mean what would be happening in their mind? Porn? Besides, it’s normally fat people that aren’t getting it” And then they laughed and guess what; I am a curvy girl so who were they calling fat really? And who wasn’t wrong? Me cause I also don’t hide that I am single. I mean I was sitting at the same table between the both of them and they were indirectly telling I was a god damn fat freak with no life and all I think about is porn. I don’t even watch porn.

Some people who actually know make every conversation so strange. I remember this lad from work always tried playing ‘would you rather’ and he would ask questions like ‘would you rather have sex with four lads or would you rather Fuck an ugly guy with a huge dick or would you rather eat pussy or suck dick?’ This makes me feel disrespected and violated and it makes me uncomfortable. And one time he said one of our workmates said I have ‘blowjob lips‘ and Fuck does that mean? Besides that’s disrespect and an insult. I am pretty sure they wouldn’t say that to anyone.

Sometimes I can’t be myself with my own friends. My friends don’t even want to go watch fifty shades cause it’s too sexual for them. One day I complemented one of them and said she has nice tits, it’s not like she was naked or anything she was complaining about them being so small and all I said was “you have nice tits…” before I could finish she was laughing at me saying I spoke like a perv why can’t I just say breast. I seriously felt heartbroken cos I couldn’t even be myself with my friends. So Everytime I say something I have to revise my words. Some of them when they see me writing they start making fun of it and calling it the worst possible names. It makes me want to hide and it makes me think if my friends can’t accept me then what about the world basically? 

Life as an erotic romance writer for me is only okay when I am writing for this blog. I sometimes feel afraid that if I were to find a guy I really like, what would be their reaction and after knowing what I write and that I have a blog where I write erotica; would they respect me or see me as a humping bag and then leave? 

I don’t know about other erotic romance writers. Maybe they live in the environment where it doesn’t make them look like total weirdos. But in my world I look like an absolute weirdo. Some even act like they don’t read these kind of stuff and besides, they have never read what I write. I know some people’s erotic stories could come across appalling because of how pornographic the story would be but it’s not really about that. Well mine isn’t like that. I don’t even have to justify this because you lot read my writing and I could barely say you have read anything that isn’t driven by passion and love and one that won’t make you sick. Everything I write is inspired by love and the beauty of love. Besides, it’s a way for me to understand myself. 

Anyway, life as an erotic romance writer is almost like a mystery. It’s either you reveal it and see what happens or you don’t and live in silence. I don’t know about others but mine is a secret and a secret doesn’t always feel good. 

The girl with the lollipop 

Daily prompt challenge: lollipop 

He was relaxing at the park, enjoying the once in a while sun in England. His eyes scanned around the park until they stopped by this young woman who was unwrapping the red bulbous lollipop. It looked like one of them over size-ish ones that are sold at the fun fairs. Somehow he was enthralled with how relaxed the young woman was. She was sitting at a bench across him with her legs crossed and her blue skirt sliding down to her hips leaving her thighs a bit bare. His eyes came up to her hands that were positioned in front of her chest, her nipples were protruding through the white cropped vest heading to her pierced belly button.  

She grabbed her phone by the other hand and started licking her lollipop while she played with her foot as though she was dancing to the music in her head. It wasn’t like he had never seen a lady eats lollipop it was how she was having it. She licked it, twirled the top of her young at the top of the lollipop then sucked it in. She pulled it out and ran her toungue licking the access juice on it, she played her tongue around it like waves. She did it so easy as though she didn’t even know how sensual her mouth was. 

The lollipop was painting her lips but she seemed to be entranced by the phone while he was entranced by her. She sucked in the lollipop, in and out of her mouth he could hear her slurping. She pulled it out and kind of glanced at it before her eyes went back to her phone and caressed her lips on the bulbous lollipop before she semi-inserted it between her lips, pressing them on it that it’s slides out. She does it again before licking it, twirling it on her tongue and sucking it. 

He had to stop looking and look down when he felt his member pulse. He had become aroused as the image couldn’t look or feel mundane. 

He got up and walked away, when he couldn’t help himself but glance back at her she was looking at him with a mischievous bit coquettish smile. With her hand holding her lollipop she waved at it and still couldn’t go back. 

He had a wife at home.