Moving On

So yesterday, I met up with a friend of mine. The meeting eventually moved to her place with plans to do the obvious.
So here we are on the bed, she's touching every part of me and giving me neck kisses. I'm also trying to key into it, but I'm having a hard time because I can't stop thinking about this girl I used to know.
Worst part is, this isn't even the first time. I haven't been able to get myself interested in sex since I stopped talking to her.
You're probably wondering who this witch is that jazzed me...
Well... we met through a friend.
The attraction was undeniable and in a couple minutes after our first proper meeting, we started making out. She made me feel alive in ways I couldn't explain. Her smile became my addiction and I just couldn't get enough of her.
I became a regular customer. Always coming back because I was happiest when I was around her.
Even with what I knew I felt for her, I tried to suppress my feelings because I had this feeling deep down that I would never be enough for her and soon she would realise that and get tired of me.
Not too long after we set off on romance highway, we hit our first bump. I was too proud and naive to acknowledge how large this ditch really was and she was expectant that I would take charge since I was the one that drove us into the ditch.
Well, I didn't take charge and instead of trying to mend things, I just kept my distance from her. She had had enough on her part and had decided not to talk to me again.
Here I am, 2 months after and I can't get her out of my mind ( yes she made that big of an impact on me).
Now I'm wondering if my sex life will suffer for the love I once had and lost.

Dear You,

I don't know why I'm writing this or why I don't have the courage to say it to you without looking like a mess. For someone who claims so much strength, my cowardice tops every scale.
Where do I start from? How can I correct all I've done.
I have been stupid, selfish, dumb, distant.
They say you don't know what you have until you lose it but this isn't one of those times. You mean so much to me that expressing it overwhelms me.
You are precious to me. You're pretty much all I think about.
How you even thought to share your space with a dead guy like me is beyond me.
I'm sorry that I let you down. I'm sorry you had to beg me to do things I should ordinarily do for you. You are my friend. You looked past the physical mess that I am and found something lovable.
I am sorry I found it so hard to talk to you even after I messed up.
We had a misunderstanding but every relationship has that. I don't want this to be the end.
Why don't I want it to be the end?
Because the short period I spent with you was the best of my life.
I looked forward to the next day just so I could come back and see you.
To look at your smile. To listen to what you had to say. To feel your lips and just be in your presence.
There's so much to say, but even I know words can't change the fact that let you down.
I just hope that you can look past my mistakes, shortcomings, in abilities, and find something worth loving in me.
U x

Exodus

For as long as I can remember, I have been attracted to women. Even though I was sexually abused at a point in my life by a man, that experience did not influence my sexual preference in any way.
I noticed I loved looking at women. I always imagined whatever partner I had in future would be a woman like me. Even though I had a very short rendezvous with an older female relation, I don't regard it as my first physical experience with a woman.
I titled this post exodus because the story I want to tell is the earliest lesbian experience I can remember that I'm not collectively ashamed and disgusted by.

I can't even remember her name but I remember she was my neighbour. She came from a big family with all female children. She was older than me but we always spoke a lot.
As naive as I was about love at the time, I was aware of my attraction to women. I was also aware that we had other intentions for ourselves other than having regular gist everyday.
If you're reading this you probably played ' daddy and mummy ' when you were younger or heard about it.
Well, we reinvented the game and made our own, ' mummy and mummy '.
Being kids, we didn't do much. We just got in bed and cuddled each other.
I know it doesn't sound like much, but at the time it felt like all I ever wanted.
So here I was in bed, holding a woman and her mother walks in.
I was confused because she didn't scream or shout or flog us like I thought she would. She just called us out of the room. In the parlour, she spoke to me calmly about how her daughter and I shouldn't play like that and then she let me go home. She could have told my parents or made a bigger deal out of the whole situation but she didn't.
Even though I should have been somewhat happy because the experience could have gone either way, my confusion refused to give way and I decided to avoid them at all cost and never speak about the experience again.
Why did I decide to share this?
Because 10 years after, I'm still confused. Why is it so wrong?
Why can't I love a woman?

Pain

I don't why I named this pain. I know I'm feeling some shit right not but I don't think pain is the closest thing to describe it with.
If anything I feel sad, emotions upon emotions are cruising through me.
Wow. You should already know why I'm sad.
What else can make a human feel one thousand emotions at the same time?
Yup. You guessed it. Love.
I'm feeling so much at once.
Is it really love though?
I don't know what to call it.
We need more words to express emotions.  I think the words we have aren't precise enough.
So.. love. I might be in love. For the umpteenth time.
I fall in love every other day. This is kinda different. I fucked up. I let someone down. I let my stupid self get In the way of my happiness. So I'm in some psychotic sad-pain mixture.
I am..... I am.. more confused than anything.
I don't know anything about  dealing with people. I don't know anything about love.
I was thought chem/phy/bio in high school but none of that prepared me for the task of loving a woman.
At home and at church I was thought that it was wrong for me to love a woman. That was pretty much all about that. Fast foward to uni, I'm having GEG/FSC/QTS classes back to back but none of that is teaching me how to treat the woman I have feelings for.
But she was already in my life. Struggling to love me back because I'm just an awkward piece of shit.
Why? Why aren't we teaching ourselves how to love. Maybe the world would be a better place if we had Love 101 classes. I'm certain I'm not the only one with these issues.
So the pain, sadness. I feel it. Feel it so much that I had to cry to condense some of the steam I had in my system.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
How is a person doing this to me.
I fucked up. I almost want to hurt myself, just because I hurt you. Just because I made you rethink why you were fucking with me.
Damn. I fucking miss you.
How. How.
I need to stop.
I need to cry.
I need to smoke.
I might drink a little.
I just need to get rid of the pain eating me up.

Genesis

Hi. If you're reading this, I welcome you into my world.
My world is a world of complete trips, small stout and good vibes.
There will be very uncoventional topics on my blog. If you are closed minded/carry church/mosque on your head, the regular Nigerian, you will most likely hate this blog.
There is no problem tho. It's all different now. The purpose of this blog is to give me complete anonymity while I talk about my woman-loving, church-slandering, igbo-smoking ways.
Once again, I welcome you.
It takes a lot to open your mind up to something. I am now in your mental space. Reading this might frighten you but as you read what I have written we evolve and merge on a higher level.
You will read something I've written. You will love it. You will love me. Crazy. I've also always been interested in mind control. I hope to improve on my skills and open a church someday. Nothing serious. Just to make some retirment money. This is crazy. Don't even know what I'm talking about again.
Oh right. My welcome message.
Maybe I should tell you about me?
Maybe not. If I tell you can you tell?
What if I tell a lie?
Lies. I should talk about lies. I've become such a good liar. It's ridiculous.
Maybe I should call myself a storyteller since all of my lieing efforts have really been exercises to improve my story telling.
I bet it's getting boring.
You must be bored.
The next post will be some fiction. My special kind of fiction. I call it semi-fiction. Maybe I should call it trans-fiction. It's basically me just drawing inspiration from my past experiences and pouring some gin on it. Libation for the gods of my imagination which then bless these stories and transform them into something magical. Spiritual.  It's crazy. I'm crazy. what is crazy really?
If you really think about it. We are all crazy. Many times I feel myself struggling to hold on to what's left of my sanity. I always succeed tho. I always keep myself from jumping out of the window. Then I wonder, how long can I keep it up for?
How long can you keep it up for?
I honestly do not know the essence of this post. Oh yeah. To welcome you.
Ya welcome. May I offer you some tea?
Some sweet, steamy fiction tea.
Here you go.
Breathe it in. I put a little cinnamon. I love the smell of cinnamon. Taste too.
Well, I should end here. Let you get back to your little life. Ttyl dear reader. You're truly welcome.