tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52522701602669724782024-03-13T19:19:44.206+00:00Underneath My Beautifullifestyle. inspiration.Natasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5252270160266972478.post-10931414734561463372016-04-28T12:00:00.000+01:002016-04-28T12:00:28.149+01:00Letter To The One I Claim To Love<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A mighty pain to love it is,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And it’s a pain that pains to miss;</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>But of all pains, the greatest pain-</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It is to love, but love in vain.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>-Abraham Cowley</i></div>
Remember all the promises made with laughter,<br />
The best of times,<br />
Remember once the things you told me and how the tears ran from your eyes,<br />
I just hate to see you cry.<br />
Sometimes I wished we could be strangers so I wouldn’t feel your pain,<br />
You could have said “WE could have done a better job” but you said me?<br />
You never mean for it to hurt, it just always does.<br />
The longer I didn’t cry, the worse I thought it would be when I finally did.<br />
So I held on, pushed through to see my breaking point,<br />
Wanted to see the limit of my love for you,<br />
My love, our love;<br />
Unrequited love.<br />
All the things you said with your mouth,<br />
Your actions denied.<br />
You go out, make others feel loved yet you ignore the one that loves you,<br />
I loved you, I really did,<br />
With my heart, my soul and most of all- my body.<br />
You looked the other way,<br />
All the lonely nights I needed your warmth,<br />
You comforted someone else.<br />
I fell in love with you and I had no idea,<br />
Until I stopped loving you,<br />
Only then did I realize-<br />
All the while I claimed to love you I wasn’t really in love with you.<br />
I am no angel; I didn’t say I was,<br />
But I never hurt you, all I did was love a confused man.<br />
And now I see the pain behind your smile again,<br />
I wish we could be strangers so I wouldn’t feel your pain,<br />
Because I am out of comfort to give you<br />
I am out of love to give you,<br />
I am out of anything to give you.<br />
I have nothing for you!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Natasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5252270160266972478.post-72020953307930321012016-04-21T14:28:00.001+01:002016-04-21T14:28:41.266+01:00I’m Fine.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNizeHlSgJSF5reqb47_lXIVg_f26KCyk1-ZDVGN1BPy7wQlE4rdxy-p9YYMFlUbBN09WfHIZtsmAsseCr0S7mretQbRgQn9AzIO7jyZmdfJEqrWvAAYd7i4TvvZOwgMkEGxlhChj0eA/s1600/1461242547837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtNizeHlSgJSF5reqb47_lXIVg_f26KCyk1-ZDVGN1BPy7wQlE4rdxy-p9YYMFlUbBN09WfHIZtsmAsseCr0S7mretQbRgQn9AzIO7jyZmdfJEqrWvAAYd7i4TvvZOwgMkEGxlhChj0eA/s400/1461242547837.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<br />
How are you?<br />
I’m fine.<br />
I guess that’s what you say when someone asks “how are u?”<br />
That has become the norm, a routine, the accepted response,<br />
But it shouldn’t be.<br />
I just realized I’m a big liar and a good liar,<br />
We all are.<br />
We pretend we are ok and fine when we really aren’t,<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Nowadays it’s not like it’s even enough for us to lie, we expect others to lie too.<br />
When someone tries to explain how he/she feels, we really don’t want to know,<br />
We tune them out and in our minds say-<br />
Everyone has their own problem.<br />
What we don’t know or fail to remember is- there are some problems bigger than others,<br />
Some demons our friends face might be bigger than the ones we fight,<br />
And all we have to do is listen to them, truly listen,<br />
But we just don’t care enough to listen,<br />
Or actually want to know the truth.<br />
Most times, we ask “how are you?” because it’s the polite thing to do when you meet someone,<br />
Not because you actually care to know how the other person feels.<br />
Whenever I’m asked how I am, I always find myself saying “fine”<br />
When I am really not fine.<br />
Are we going to die if we actually say the truth?<br />
Is the world going to come down on us if we open up?<br />
Is the ground going to open and swallow us if we listen to our truths?<br />
Then why can’t we be honest with each other?<br />
Because it’s the lies we tell that kill us daily.<br />
I am also guilty of this,<br />
All the times we ask, how are you?<br />
I don’t know if I actually want to hear the truth and neither does everyone else,<br />
But right now, I am trying.<br />
Be honest and stop being liars,<br />
Embrace the truth.<br />
And if you are asked how you are, from today, don’t be afraid to say what you truly feel.<br />
Tell everyone you love that you love them and no matter how ugly their truths are, you will still love them.<br />
So I am asking you- How are you?<br />
<br />
<br />
Don’t just read, leave a comment telling me how you feel, as for me, I am sick right now, got malaria and I’m using my meds the right way. So I’ll be fine in no time.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Natasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5252270160266972478.post-90354310982528940882016-04-14T10:22:00.000+01:002016-04-14T10:22:12.680+01:00In My Loneliness"don't love me if my solitude is sweeter than you"<br />
I have learnt to love me<br />
Love every part that eludes the eyes of man<br />
From the scars inbetween my breasts that run so deep, it has imprints on my heart,<br />
my heart that ached for you, that longed to get love in return,<br />
To my thighs, that have been bruised by your constant need to satisfy the demons that dwell in you<br />
My ears, so little yet patiently listen to all the lies you tell waiting to hear the truth<br />
the real truth, cos with you, there are two different truths<br />
<br />
In my loneliness,<br />
I have learnt love is not all about pleasing you<br />
my loneliness has shown me happiness,<br />
In my loneliness, i found love, i found solace<br />
Love that i never got from you<br />
<br />
I am in love with my loneliness<br />
For me to love you,<br />
you have to love me with all the good, the bad, the scars, and all my short comings<br />
For me to love you, you have to be sweeter than my loneliness...<br />
<br />
<br />
In truth I have been working on this piece for a very long time... Like 2-3months and it is amazing how I needed just one line to close the writing and I woke this morning with fresh eyes and read through and I realised I was done with this writing a long time ago.<br />
For me... It didn't need anything more, nothing extra, it is just perfect the way it is.... I hope you liked it.<br />
<br />
<br />Natasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5252270160266972478.post-12116404131332968772015-11-19T09:16:00.001+00:002015-11-19T10:29:54.950+00:00The Enchanted Dreamer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://tse1.mm.bing.net/th?&id=OIP.Mb3b8cf5c3cf4e57e15ad5410fb40b0cao0&w=300&h=300&c=0&pid=1.9&rs=0&p=0" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://tse1.mm.bing.net/th?&id=OIP.Mb3b8cf5c3cf4e57e15ad5410fb40b0cao0&w=300&h=300&c=0&pid=1.9&rs=0&p=0" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He was turning<span id="goog_948858503"></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And you could see him panting heavily,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He had a lot on his mind,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He was mentally troubled.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The brevity of life seemed to have dawned on him just now.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>His heart was hovering,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He got in,</i><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>With a foot and the other out</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The tension seemed to ease</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>How was that?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You could see a sense of relief as he closed his eyes</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He was obviously peaceful at last.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The calmness of his soul was evident,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>His heart was no longer in torments,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Unconsciously, he leaned forward, backward and sideways,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>In his subconscious was a peace he wished would reign forever,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He was oblivious of his surrounding.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He was in a land where he felt at ease,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There was no trouble in there,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The land was empty,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He walked and walked,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Out of eagerness,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He longed to see the end.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He came across what seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He aimed at reaching it,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He finally got to his destination,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He was tapped,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And was asked to alight the bus,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>He looked around dazed and confused, it had all been a dream.</i></div>
<br />
The inspiration for this particular piece is a young man I saw on a bus on my way to work.<br />
<br />
Written By: Natasha YamalaNatasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5252270160266972478.post-67283573802769703912015-11-18T13:54:00.004+00:002015-11-19T10:30:07.978+00:00Broken Mirror<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://tse4.mm.bing.net/th?id=OIP.M15fdbc36a1f1a99a722d1ca6252dcebcH0&pid=15.1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://tse4.mm.bing.net/th?id=OIP.M15fdbc36a1f1a99a722d1ca6252dcebcH0&pid=15.1" height="272" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Pastor, its not that i cannot see, its that i still see his image,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>beyond the brokenness of the mirror,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>even in the dark.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>i promised myself never to do this</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>never to let him back in</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>he came in anyway.</i><br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>i am powerless to his charms,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>and he knows this!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>he knows!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>he takes me in with words gentle, breaking me to pieces,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>carefully molding me back just to have me crash,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>crash to the ground like fine glass.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>he tells me i am what he needs, but of what use is a blind watchman?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>i am constantly broken because he leaves me that way,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>tells me never to rise, say i will never shine.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>even when i tried, i never shined cos i believed him, </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>i believed in him.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>he made me that way.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Pastor! Pastor! Pastor!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>i am slowly going blind, loosing weight, swaying,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>swaying from side to side, hanging in the balance, on the fence, slowly drifting away from the face of my consciousness, the sand of my existence been blown away by the wind of time.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Pastor, i smell him on me, he smells so sweet, i fear he is close again, too close for comfort,</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>i fear he follows me everywhere and i am terrified.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And he doesn't even care, he doesn't!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Pastor help, i see the light, tho faint but with so much potency, i fear, i fear for life, for death, for him, for me, for that which is within me, for shall it be?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>i plug my ears to look at him and close my eyes to listen.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am the broken mirror and that which i fear is ME.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Written by: Natasha Yamala</div>
<div>
</div>
Natasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5252270160266972478.post-81992920948282352762015-10-21T22:17:00.000+01:002015-11-19T10:30:23.368+00:00Life Is Nothing But An EnigmaLife is an enigma<br />
The further you try to solve the mysteries,<br />
The further in it's brevity you get<br />
The wise say "silence is key",<br />
They also say "silence is a pointer for weakness"<br />
The brave as we know is made strong<br />
As a result of overcoming his weakness,<br />
"Life is unbearable" we say,<br />
But still we lounge in it's glory<br />
Some say life is short<br />
So enjoy it while you can,<br />
But I say life is exactly how you take it<br />
Hold it with a stern fist,<br />
And it will seem difficult,<br />
Take it lightly,<br />
And you will be marveled at it's simplicity.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /><br />
Life is an enigma<br />
So hard to understand<br />
Yet so easy to live.<br />
So many twists and turns,<br />
Yet we find ourselves on a plain.<br />
Life is as you take it,<br />
So live everyday as it comes,<br />
Dont worry about the future,<br />
It comes earlier than expected.<br />
The future inevitably takes care of itself<br />
You never know what it holds,<br />
The odds might be in your favour.<br />
Life, life, Life...<br />
The way you left it,<br />
Is certainly not the way you'd meet it.<br />
There is something always in store for us.<br />
You just have to be strong, brave and take it by The horns,<br />
Wait and see...<br />
<br />
(This is the very first piece I ever wrote)Natasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5252270160266972478.post-13654605830162868052015-08-21T12:27:00.000+01:002015-08-21T12:27:25.537+01:00My Inevitable Two-Cents Hi Guys, I am so sorry i haven't been publishing my posts and for deleting most of them.<br />
I have to admit something, I really haven't been serious about this and even though i know i should be, well, what can I say, "Life Happened", caught me unawares and i so fell off grid. But this time I want you all to give me a do-over and i promise to always post REGULARLY everything and trust me when i say everything. For a while, my notepad had been my solace up until some of my friends said i should pick-up writing on a blog and sharing, i really don't know who i am helping or inspiring but i want to promise, you all won't be alone again.<br />
After my previous post, i was so broken by some people who called me up, sent me mails and wanted to talk about it, I had no idea i was touching a sensitive part and i just couldn't keep posting again (in love, i want to thank you all that sent me mails and called me up to encourage me and i admire the strength it took you to share your stories with me, Thanks so much, your words inspired me a lot), but i have a newly found strength to start over, i stumbled on a blog "InThe" and i got so inspired to continue what i love doing, which is writing.<br />
I really don't know who my stories would be inspiring or talking to next but i sure would keep writing and offer my two cents on everything and anything.<br />
And if you would like to reach me to talk about anything, i promise to be as neutral as can be and still offer my two-cents, just check my profile for my email address and i will answer you as soon as i can. P.s don't be mad at me if you don't get a response as fast as you hoped.<br />
P.s. I have a lot in store for you all, just bookmark my page so you don't miss out.<br />
Muaah!<br />
<br />
Love&Blessings,<br />
Nat.Natasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5252270160266972478.post-50693401893827165022015-02-11T08:00:00.000+00:002015-11-19T10:31:07.391+00:00The Night Before<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Tiny tears find their way down her swollen cheeks as she
remembers the night before. It is so much to take in for a 14year old. She
clutches her fist as if to fight but there was no one there to be fought. As
she releases her fists more tears roll down. She is surrounded by people yet
she feels all alone, she sees everyone around as loving to hate her. It was
already morning and she still felt she was back in the night, the night it all
happened, the night she would never forget, the night that made her feel dirty,
the night that all she wanted was to die but unfortunately, she didn’t, she was
left alive to feel the pain, the agony, the dirt, the trauma.</div>
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She got up to go wash herself for the 7<sup>th</sup> time
that morning but the smell of him never seemed to have washed away from her
body, she scrubbed harder with every time she went back for a wash. She still
felt dirty. She wondered, how much scrubbing it will take to wash away the way
she felt, 10? If it was, then she’d scrub 10times. As she scrubbed herself
crying in the shower, her hands over her breasts brought back the pain of the
night before, she could see him in her head, his hard dark face, bald head,
dark skin, black hovering eyes, muscular body, big hands, a scar on his back,
the big bite she gave him on his shoulders, the red eyes as a result of the
pepper spray she lashed in his eyes but all to no avail, the picture of her
murderer.<br />
<a name='more'></a></div>
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Just like in a trance she remembered vividly, she was all
alone in her room when he walked in, said he needed a favour, she obliged and
asked. His hand hitting her face so hard it felt like a truck brushed her. She
landed on the floor and passed out for what seemed like a slight second. She
awoke to him trying to tie her up and she put up a little fight, bit his
shoulders hard enough to tear his skin, reached for her pepper spray which
usually sat next to her bed and sprayed his eyes. In her bid to run, she found
her legs numb, she had been injected with <a href="http://www.wisegeekhealth.com/what-is-a-lidocaine-injection.htm">lidocaine</a>. She cried out,
unfortunately everyone was on the other side of the house entertaining guests,
she cried and cried.</div>
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He got up in anger with his eyes red, was going to hit but
stopped himself, took off his shirt and showed her a scar on his back telling
her he got that from a fighter just like her but he still won because he is a
man. She continued to shout but seemed like she was a mime as no one could hear
her voice, just then did she wish her house wasn’t sound proofed. She could
remember him laughing at her, seeing her being vulnerable and begging to let
her go, promising she’d never tell anyone of this happening, but it all fell on
deaf ears.</div>
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He pounced on her, his heavy body all on her skinny figure,
she could swear she felt a bone in her body cry out. He slightly and gently
said into her ears “I’m an ass-man”, she didn’t know what it meant until he
turned her on her back and she cried out, put up a little fight but none was
working and the pillow soaked in all her tears. He tore her panties and said he
would be gentle, as he parted her legs, she knew exactly what he meant now, she
cried and begged and shouted, she tried to kick and wished her legs could move.</div>
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He first shoved his fingers up her vagina and she groaned
wished she was dead, begging and praying for death but no she was still alive.
He pushed himself in and shoved further and further holding her neck down to
the pillow so she could not move, she had given up and laid there like a
lifeless human but that didn’t seem to stop him. He shoved in deeper and she
let out a cry but she couldn’t even hear herself cry. After satisfying himself,
he turned her again and composed her, straightening her back and arching her
knees, he noticed she had passed out but that didn’t stop him, he pressed into
her squeezing her breasts hard and when he was done, he left her lying in her
own blood.</div>
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She opened her eyes but couldn’t move even as bad as she
wanted to. She cried all through the night and finally summoned enough courage
to clean up herself, she wished washing away the blood would wash away the
scenario from her head.</div>
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As the cold water ran through her from head to toe, she
wanted so bad to forget the night before ever happened. Tried to forget that
she had been raped. Tried to forget he ever laid hands on her, tried to forget
the pain he put her through, tried to forget the agony, the pleas, the animal
that tore her clothes in rage, she tried to make herself believe the image she
saw wasn’t that of her father.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfmdZKIzm-8lAooAKFpZaqqO4Yb51T4ux44rdZN_QtzTWSBjpYuHNmbuu5uDRsCPRliKJYh5V-64G5z2h_YEQOdkNGpMG5i3QEvc7zlCITZ3zKLiJDSrMUIFoNx5N2iIHU4obs3eDYzH4/s1600/sad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfmdZKIzm-8lAooAKFpZaqqO4Yb51T4ux44rdZN_QtzTWSBjpYuHNmbuu5uDRsCPRliKJYh5V-64G5z2h_YEQOdkNGpMG5i3QEvc7zlCITZ3zKLiJDSrMUIFoNx5N2iIHU4obs3eDYzH4/s1600/sad.jpg" /></a></div>
She steps out of her room and is taken aback by the image
that is emerging from her mother’s room, it’s the same one she’s trying to
forget, as he passes her, he looks at her, smiles and she takes the vase that
sit as the center piece on the golden royal table in the hall way and smashes
it on his head which sends him down the stairs and she sits on the top step and
looks down at him saying “how does it feel to be helpless and unable to move
lying in the pool of your own blood?” <br />
<br />
Written By: Natasha Yamala</div>
Natasha Yamalahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08708158379136832901noreply@blogger.com5