I don't write. I create.
I found joy today, in the form of a bag of lettuce.
It was pre-washed and still crunchy, despite the hints of light brown around some of the edges.
I gave it companionship by placing slices of cucumber beside it and I showered it with sesame seeds after this picture was taken.
The heat embraced my body with its hotness, but a cool breeze broke through and glided around me.
Right now, I’m thankful for my readers – without you, only my mind would enjoy these words.
I have nothing summery to wear or nothing that would be deemed summer-ish!
So, I found an old pair of shorts and an even older vest top. I changed into this ensemble after my shower and strolled around my home, feeling like a super-star!
No, it’s true, I have no bra on.
It’s too hot!
Who wants to wrap their breasts into a bra, a burgundy bra, a burgundy lace bra? ‘Not I’ said Unique.
Said me. Said I.
Picture this:
I’m sprawled out on my Livingroom rug, windows wide open and enjoying a mild cool breeze flowing down and over my body. I remained on my back for a moment and this moment was like 45 minutes long.
My breasts are free and breathing deeply. What? You never knew that breasts could breathe? Haha, I’m referencing my deep inhales and exhales.
I’m speaking about airflow.
Laying here I’m undisturbed, my phone is on flight mode and at the bottom of a bedroom drawer. You know, the drawer filled with panties I only wear when menstruating. Yeah, I don’t mind telling you about it – all my panties are clean and hold the sweet aroma of cherry blossom.
After 45 minutes I get up and head into the kitchen. Grab a bottle of water, open it and add a few drops of lemon juice. I take a deep gulp and feel renewed.
My home is hot, but not all rooms the coolest is the bathroom. But what writer do you know spends the day in their bathroom, writing? But it’s so cool, so I sat in there for 8 minutes at a time.
It would never be considered as strange, as no one need know – until you.
Right now, I’m writing about my day and about the heat that rose through my heart into my veins and through to my keyboard. I’m not the best writer in the world, my mistakes in writing are glaringly obvious – I’m not hiding from you. I’m proud of who I am and how my life is evolving!
My creative nature contains no restrictions. Sometimes I write from my heart, other times I write from my mind, today I write from my body – I write from my breasts.
Suck on that for a moment, I’m still melting…
Was non-existent.
I #thetea and received a plethora of correspondence.
I told them you don’t change your underwear daily. That you wait until you’re on your period.
One Twitter user said he had sick in his mouth because he had masturbated over your images the night before.
I find it fascinating how online, everyone shares anything.
I sleep and I sleep and my periods of sleep are often deep.
I wiggle and I turn and above my quilt, I look like a giant worm.
I groan and I grunt and I roll but I do not spin.
I flip back my covers and smack my leg, as I swear I’ve been bitten!
Some nights are hot.
Some mornings are cold.
I whirl around inside my mind as reality unfolds.
I jump up and hit the light, scanning the sheets I had jumped off.
I can’t see anything – maybe I’m crazy? Maybe I’m still asleep?
Sometimes I sweat, other times I mumble.
‘Fuck this fucking shit! Fucking old mattress, I hate it!.’
I once stripped the bed and put everything into a hot wash.
I covered my mattress in baking-soda, as the man on YouTube said to do that.
I left it for hours…I vacuumed up most of the grains of white.
I covered my mattress with a full cover – one that seals it in tight.
I dripped mint oil all over, as the woman on YouTube said it works wonders.
I slipped into bed and for a moment, I slept peacefully.
SMACK!
I slapped my calves, jumped out of bed, hit the lights, grabbed the torch and went close with my eyes.
I saw nothing.
‘Hey, where are you going?’
‘To someplace you’re not.’
‘May I join you?’
‘No! As your smell will make me…’
‘What?’
‘Well, you smell like dead fishes.’
‘But don’t people eat dead fishes?’
‘I only buy organic!’
‘So you buy live fishes?’
‘I buy what looks nice when I visit the supermarket.’
‘Right, a plethora of dead animals on shelves that smell. I understand.’
‘Don’t be so rude!’
‘I’m simply stating facts. You buy, fry and eat dead, organic fishes and that is that!’
‘Well, at least it’s not the cheap stuff that I bet you buy.’
‘Actually, I was the salmon you eat twenty years ago, now reincarnated into this barbaric life.’
‪Sometimes you can’t fix people with super glue.‬
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You have long hair, it’s braided.
Your lips are smoothed in red.
Your hair is sweet with coconut and honey aromas.
Your eyes are brown – I love your eyes.
Your eyelashes are curled and I know that’s all-natural.
Your lips taste like cherries.
You sound like an angel from the garden of Bliss.
Your skin is soft and I know you use coconut oil to moisturise your body.
Your body is beautiful.
Your mind is unique.
My dream girl…
For the joy of your lips over my face.
The feel of your body pressed against my heart.
I thought we had ended before we hit green on start.
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Twitter – @Dame_Unique:
‪Fuck the process.‬
‪Mix it up with pink lemonade and let it spray on the sugar feins. ‬
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With my tears, I could flood a whole city.
I always paid attention to you.
April 22nd I cut that lifeline.
I cut you out of my life.
I was your line.
Emotions poured out like a river running wild, transforming into a tsunami and breaking the rules around love and the living.
Cascading through the area and hoping the glue melts away.
I held you up and gave you my energy.
You floated away and came back with new sight.
I see not your blue eyes.
I see not your grey eyes.
I see not your green eyes.
I can’t stop this!
I need to explode, rather implode on myself. I’m expressing today, I’m expressing.
At my knees, my tears caress my calves. The fragrance is cherry…I used to kiss you with cherry flavoured Carmex.
I lay on my bed and feel my tears submerge my thoughts.
9 times out of 10 I’m in my feelings…
With the negative memories you left behind, I lift the roof off my home and let the tears of the hurt ones pour in like rain.
I’m weighed down to the bed as my heart is heavy and drowning in memories seems fitting.
I find that you can be anything you want to be.
Speak it. Yes!
I saw a rainbow appear after a flash flood. As quick as it came, it was photographed and stored around the world. #Rainbow #Colour #Smile
Do you like to read?
I made pancakes this morning for breakfast.
I called Mother and she answered on the 3rd ring.
I reviewed the 268 blocked numbers on my WhatsApp and I unblocked 1.
Checked my phone for nothing in particular.
SWOT analysis bitch, I’m branding on those cookies!
I listened to Love Drought by Beyonce over 34 times today. I thought about you first and then him after. I considered unblocking you, but you’re a spineless cunt and while I don’t hate you – I don’t need you drowning my existence with your fake perception of life.
I tell myself daily, ‘Unique, remember who you are.’
When I’m alone with my thoughts wishing our world was better, I think about you.
It’s dark in our country at this moment in time and I know you’re at home, eyes open and head down.
I would pray you call, but I remember your faults. And prayer is a conversation with myself.
You beat down my soul and drowned me in your lies. Water puts out fire it’s true, but ice can also burn through flesh.
I picture your tainted bar; you know the one you pissed on with your weaknesses. I recall that leash around your neck, only allowed you to commute to your office, home and wherever the Boss commanded you.
Are you awake?
Of course, you hiss desperation into the air and blow that through to my ears. Then you cry alone under the safety of a user for an employee.
I remember the mornings you beeped into my private space…scattered messages, deeper lies and flattened truths.
Let me tell you, the lies you spawned this time last year have already manifested over what you claim to fly with. When yet another drains your existence, you’ll wish you were sleeping eternally.
In satisfactory memory of the worm that wiggled its way through my fruit bowl.
We matched online.
After clicking for time.
We exchanged numbers right away.
ASMR, smoothies and happiness in common.
I hesitate sometimes, like on our first virtual date. I don’t feel good enough for you, I feel like you can do better.
You tell me I’m beautiful and I don’t believe you.
New is the name.
Night.
The heat is nice during the daytime, I can open my windows and enjoy the breeze.
However, you fucking disrespectful cunts smoke weed, and the pungent smell lingers through my windows, into my home.
Then you have the audacity to complain and tweet #WhereisBorris? Where is your fucking manners?
I don’t recall stating I’m happy that you smoke weed outside and encourage it to linger around! Honestly, would you like it if I poured bleach all over your dwellings? Do you like the smell of bleach with a hint of lemon?
I had to close my window, all of them!
I had to sit inside with the ever-increasing heat and the decreasing coverings of clothes from my body.
I dislike your disregard for my need for fresh cool air.
Just because you wish to fill your lungs with shit, does not mean that I share your style of living.
Heat!
When you create a small flame to light the end of your death stick.
Heat!
When its summertime in the United Kingdom and the sun is shining.
Heat!
When I must shut all my windows to prevent your addiction flowing through my space.
Heat!
My temper right now, I’ve had enough.
I picture a Sunday morning I wake up with you.
You’re so interesting, I would like to know everything about you.
From your crazy hair to the deepest thoughts that invade your mind.
After COVID19 has left our lives, I want to become a part of your time.
Thank you for calling last night…
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