#ThankYou – Ozora's Blog

Posted on July 18, 2022July 18, 2022 by Ozora T Seopa

Being a Wo_man…

Hello, my name is Jane. This journal is an expression of my perspective of what it is to be a woman rather than one that attempts to define what being a woman is. Being a woman has taught me that no matter what decisions you make, they will always come back to haunt you because if they don’t align with their beliefs, you must be wrong. Yes, most of the decisions I’ve made have been impacted by my emotions, and occasionally I can agree that those decisions were poor ones, but at the time, I made them because it was what I wanted to do.

For me, being a woman means you bleed every month, and for some, mood swings, period pains, and other things are a few to sway our emotions, but living in a world where that is just part of being a woman means you must deal with it (as though we had asked for it). I learned that no matter how compassionate and understanding you are, you will never be enough because, after all, you are only a woman.

I’ve been in nearly five different relationships in my 35 years of life. I’ve been with cheating men, dishonest men, faithful men, men who don’t communicate, men who are impolite, non-smokers, atheists, and many others. They all have one thing in common: they are all males. They don’t know how to comprehend what it’s like to be a woman as a man, and hey, as a female like all my other women. We may never fully grasp them, but unlike them, we aspire to do so. We tend to suppress our feelings to satisfy them. We try to be better individuals for them. At times many females have struggled in their attempt to please a male. Once again, whatever path you pursue if they don’t agree with you, you’re wrong.

Being a woman means that no matter how often you apologize for wounding their pride, it will never be adequate because doing so merely amounts to acknowledging that you were at fault. It doesn’t matter how you feel or why you did what you did; you apologized, which implies you recognized you were wrong. But it’s not that simple because being a woman is more multifaceted than right and wrong, and your decisions are often influenced by how someone treats you. For example, you may cheat because they have cheated. It’s not to suggest it’s right, but if they hadn’t deceived you, you wouldn’t have felt that that was the only way to express how deeply upset you were. If they betray you and you choose to leave, you will be viewed as a fool because all men cheat. How about you find a man that doesn’t cheat? They make you feel like it is a luxury since they are the treasure, and you should feel fortunate given how you have been treated like garbage. If they treat you disrespectfully, talk down to you, or make you feel unworthy, because their pride is bruised, you provoked them.

In the society in which we live, men get away with their misdeeds, while women are expected to submit to them. However, the situation is more complex than that, since women have worked for decades to at least receive the same opportunity as men. For example, having careers, however, they overlooked being understood and listened to. The males decided to give them what they wanted while still disrespecting and emotionally manipulating them behind the scenes. As time passed, new generations of women decided enough was enough. Whether it’s to not silence abuse that is sexual, emotional, physical, or mental. Some individuals are unwilling to give up this, and while some men have improved as men, the great majority of our women are still in agony.

Although some women have encountered spiritual awakening, many of us have lost sight of who we are as women and are still wrestling with what it means to be a woman. I can’t cover everything in one piece, but I now see that, in the eyes of both society and religious text, being a woman just means standing beside your partner. Perhaps the word man represents this in a woman; we lack identity because we were created to accommodate them. And this is where the conflict lies, as few of us are not at ease with it. I certainly am not. Therefore, even if I offend you, I have reasonable grounds for doing so, and if you choose not to listen to me, brace yourself for a quarrel.

Even while I may not understand what it means to be a woman, I am aware that no matter what decisions you make, it will always hurt their pride. So, in the words of a tired woman, “screw it.” Be the woman who brings you joy. Be yourself, whether you’re a good or bad girl. You do you, whether you want babies or not. Whether you make millions or just want to be taken care of, honey, don’t be ashamed of any of it. Whether you’re a religious girl or not, we’ve all been condemned as women. Simply because we have a bleeding vulva, it will never be enough. Hell, some even treat their mothers disrespectfully. As a result, I must urge you to stand up for yourself because no one else will. Be honest with yourself, and if that choice makes the most sense for your instincts, mama, persist with it. Remember that the decisions you make have consequences, and even if the consequences are unfavourable, learn from your mistakes.

Even though we have repeatedly neglected our needs to appease them, it doesn’t matter anymore because the moment they have the chance to mistreat you unjustly, they will. Therefore, respect, love, and take good care of yourself. Instead of imitating the oppressor, avoid using aggression during confrontations. Decide not to be a victim either, since doing so leads you to think that other people are supposed to rescue you while only you can rescue yourself. Stop hating on other women because they are experiencing the same things as you are. Let’s improve for our own sakes and for our mental health.

To all the different kinds of women, whether you identify as non-binary, straight, bisexual, lesbian, transgender, or any other way, from one worn-out woman to the next. Finding out why you are the way you are is not your burden. Your role is to accept every aspect of yourself, including the perplexing and unattractive ones. Accept every characteristic of yourself, and even if you don’t understand yourself, people who genuinely love you will. They’ll figure out how to pay attention to you. Because being a woman, for me, is a blessing in disguise. I’m Jane, and I’m here to tell you to be a woman.

Thank you for taking the time to read “Being a Wo_man.” This piece was inspired by my journey as well as my friends’ experiences of what it’s like to be a woman in modern-society. I named the character Jane because she embodies all the women that relate to her perspective. If you enjoy my writing, please subscribe, like, and comment on the articles. For any updates, follow on all social channels. That being said, see you next time 🙂

Who Am I?

I’ve done it again… To this extent, I should be applauded for being the best at screwing up people’s lives. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m pleasant to listen to, but too much of me will destroy your life. I appear as a feeling with the intention of making you excited for the moment. Who am I?

I had a young lady in her late twenties today. Empty is her name. She had been depressed and puzzled about her life for some time. She frequently considers suicide because of being unemployed, not knowing who she is, and living in the shadows. These are a handful of the factors that contribute to her 13th reason. I first came to her out of a desire. “I need a break; I need a smoke,” she thought. “I’m not in the mood to live,” she told me. I spoke with my accomplice, Green Bush. “Sure,” she said as she offered me the calming plant to help our girl. “We’re only taking a break for today,” I tell Empty, hoping to keep her from falling into the trap.

“Empty is one of my favourites. As lifeless as she felt at times, she often wondered if it was all worth it. However, she still wakes up every morning and fights. Though, lately she hasn’t fought much. She spends her time sleeping and fading her days away. In my opinion, she needed to be inspired by life. So, I spoke to Miss Universe, and she did me a favour by letting Empty go out and have a good time. I could see that little girl inside of her getting joyful at the thought of being outside. Finally, she was exploring the moments of life, allowing herself to regain a sense of being. One, two, three… Empty is drinking and gradually becoming happier. As my favourite quote reads, “With every action, there is a reaction.” The girl is lit.

Normally, I don’t feel sorry for my victims, but Empty is an exception. She is incredibly gifted, naturally gorgeous on the inside and out, and born to be a star, but she is unable to recognize this since she was raised to criticize and doubt herself. She was the one who first made me ponder why I had been chosen to carry remorse, sorrow, and disappointment. I never asked to be born into the Negative family and even though I am Romeo, Juliet cannot function without me. Therefore, Positivity needs me to inspire the creators to create. The true meaning of life would not be known by many without me. Who am I?

One thing about Empty, she loves looking and feeling beautiful. Who wouldn’t want to attend a live event with a lover? Having fun and embracing each other because you deserve it. She felt alive at that very point. She felt gorgeous and cherished. She was the happiest I’d ever seen her. Remember, I can and will ruin your life if you have too much of me. She stayed a little longer, met new people with her bae, and moved the party to their home. Little did she know I was waiting for her. The last time I had an encounter with her, she managed to dust herself up and fight. It’s only for a few that I will loosen my grip and perhaps give them their life back. Because I had not seen her for so long, our reunion was therefore sweet and delightful.

Empty dared to never try me, or even sniff me. “I will never,” she swore, but poor girl, everything in this world is designed to introduce you to me through a single drink, because I can take away your pain. The party had turned into a vibe, and she was as high as the sky. Her new buddies had invited me and had powdered up some lines, or better yet, bullets. Curiosity swept in and killed the cat. Empty tried me with a simple question, “How does it feel?” “Would you like to give it a shot?” I offered myself to her.

I could feel her acceptance of the fact that she ignored her intuition as I went up her nose. As I entered her lungs, I could feel her heartbeat shift rhythm. Her shame had quickly faded, and she was truly relishing the moment. It’s not much fun, but here’s a fact: many have taken me and perished. Some are attempting to recover, and only a few are successful in their struggle.

She finally gave me a chance. Oh, how welcoming she was as she tasted the golden egg. We kissed and danced all night. She smiled as I put her to bed. This is where many have fallen, and they always come back for me. I must admit, Empty, on the other hand, persisted through. I started by giving her a headache and causing her eyes to hurt because she is light-sensitive. I came to her with depression. The dark thoughts she had avoided in the previous days all flooded in at once. Her left hip was in discomfort, and she was having difficulty breathing. I brought out all my finest shots, and she handled them like a champ. “Who are you?” she inquired. I sincerely said, “I am you.” Because you are the one who decided to experiment on me. You chose to face me on a path where men have shamelessly died.

She marvelled at me and confidently responded, “I don’t fear you.” “Kill me if you can, but this is not the hill I will die on.” Empty could see herself enslaved to my control. She was frightened off by the thought of me and vowed never to step foot on my threshold again. So, being the kind person that I am, I chose to let her go. She was wise to realise that once you let me in, I am not a part-time hobby. I’ll slowly eat you alive while I strip your body to the ground. I appear in various forms, so there is truly no escape unless you conquer yourself, which unfortunately, not many can. After all, those I have let go may attest to my generosity…I was created to be a distraction for your body from being entuned with your soul.

Many will put me to bad use and believe I was meant to stay, but little do they know that my creator designed me to quench the flash. Being referred to as a “condition” is an insult; humans should treat me with greater respect and understand that I am not a pastime and that you will encounter me in different ways at some point. Before you know it, I’ll be dancing in your shadow of poor decisions. Many people have died for me, and many more will succumb to my spell. As desirable as I am, only a few have parted ways with me and have not summoned me back. So, for the last time, I will ask you who I am, and even though drugs might steal my shine, I am not her, for I come as a feeling.

Thank you for taking the time to read Who Am I? I’ve noticed that the majority of views occur on weekdays, so I’ll be updating every Monday from now on. Stay tuned for more stories and content. If you haven’t already, please subscribe, like, and comment on the posts. I’m excited to hear your opinions on Who Am I and any other stories from Aquarius Man and many more. Thank you for your support, and let’s get reading 🙂

Posted on October 3, 2021July 3, 2022 by Ozora T Seopa

Aquarius Man…

“Shawty, I’ma only tell you this once, you the illest (Ba, ba-da, doh) And for your loving’, I’ma Die Hard like Bruce Wills (Ba, ba-da, doh) You have spark, you got spunk,” Nicki Minaj sang. You have something that all the girls want. You’re like a candy store and I’m a toddler. You got me wanting more and m-m-more of Your love, your love (yeah),” I felt that.

Oh, my goodness, where have all my manners gone? You’re probably wondering who I am. I’m simply the girl next-door. My given name is Jazmine, and my surname is Warrior. No, I’m not a warrior’s descendant, but I suppose that could be the case since my father’s entire family has served in the army.

Here’s a little backstory: when I was born, my mother died from complications related to giving birth and losing a lot of blood. My father looked after me as an only child with the support of his sisters and brothers. As a result, you can imagine all the politics around who thinks what is best for me. My father, on the other hand, has always been by my side and has instilled in me vital values such as discipline, family, love, and faith. I had always wondered why he couldn’t get past my mother, and it wasn’t until my 15^th birthday that he finally answered my unasked question. “Your mother and I both knew having you would be a risk before you arrived. I won’t lie to you, my angel, it upset me that she was willing to lose me, and I held back from fully loving her throughout the pregnancy because I knew she was leaving. While I was seeking a solution, your grandmother looked after her. There was nothing I, or any doctor, could have done to prevent it. She took my hand and pledged to be by my side on the night of the delivery. She made me vow to look after you, and every time I see her in you, I must remember that commitment. When I first held you, I was overjoyed, and your mother was absolutely delighted, as well. Now, I know you and many others are attempting to match me with someone, but there is no one I would rather be with than my lovely wife, who is patiently waiting for me in the afterlife.”

He waited 15 years to tell me the story, and I’m glad he did because it taught me the true meaning of unconditional love and the type of love I want from a partner. I grew up with the notion that love is simple, but people chose to complicate it. However, as I began dating, I understood that you might fall in love with the wrong person, and because this is not the person you should be with, complications arise. I am currently 26 years old, and when I say I have been around the block, I precisely mean that. I’m sure you can tell I’m a hopeless romantic based on what little I’ve told you about my family. I’ve always been, but after being hurt so many times, I’ve concluded that men irritate me. I don’t understand why I had to sift through schmucks to find ‘The One.’ But don’t get me wrong, I was usually the problem, but remember that unconditional love I mentioned? Yeah, they couldn’t handle me.

Michael Evans, to begin with, was my first. He was a sweetheart. A very attractive young man who smelled good and was well-behaved. I met him when we were in high school. Funny story: he was dating one of my friends, but after they broke up, she began acting strangely towards me, and before we knew it, Michael was walking me back to the hostel, and we began to hang out more, and then, bam, he asked me to be his girlfriend. He was well-versed in how to treat a lady in high school and had a detailed understanding of my love language. He was always willing to spend on me. Every month on the 14^th, he’d take me out on a date and bring me flowers.

In general, I’m an emotional wreck, but Michael adored that about me; he was always available emotionally and always said the sensible things when I felt like crying myself to sleep. I liked how everyone at school admired us as a couple because we were always together. Unfortunately, I felt that we would have to break up at some point. We both had intentions to move after matric, so it only made sense to allow ourselves to experience university to the fullest. Perhaps he didn’t like the plan and, rather than breaking up with me later, chose to break up with me a week before final exams, saying, “Jaz, I feel like you’re putting so much pressure on me, and I can’t seem to focus on my studies.” That was a cowardly act, but I couldn’t ignore his feelings, so I let it go and cried myself to sleep without him.

There were young boys who attempted to explore their manhood with me before Michael, but they never got the chance because my father taught me the value of a woman withholding herself till, she meets the ‘right’ man. Which is why I thought Michael was the ‘right’ one because he never made me feel like all he wanted was sex. However, unlocking that door placed me face to face with a new girl. My confidence grew, and it reflected in the way I walked. Apart from my intelligence and affection, I knew what I could bring to the table. I improved my appearance by wearing colognes and learning how to apply make-up to enhance my beauty. I discovered that sex is a source of power, and that we live in a world where men are continuously lusting after women. By the time I arrived at university, I had made up my mind that I would not start another committed relationship. Rather, I planned to embrace my womanhood and live my best life. My father and I fought during this period of my life because he wanted me to concentrate on my studies, earn a business degree, and follow in his footsteps as an entrepreneur. I, on the other hand, had different ideas. I made the decision to leave home and study music in Johannesburg.

The first day at AFDA university was incredible; it was a world full of talented individuals who were all there to pursue their passions in the creative sector that is known as the entertainment industry. It seemed like the proper place to be, except there was so much competition that if you didn’t believe in your craft, you were doomed to fail. The other gender was drooling at me from the time I walked in. To top it off, all my housemates were stunning, so when we all walked together, it was a solid powerhouse of attractive first years. No, truly, when I stated that my plan was to chase my aspirations and live my best life, I meant it. Discipline, on the other hand, was something I battled with. I was the kind to have a good time, but I was having way too much fun.

Even Kabelo had the nerve to criticize my weakness for why he never considered me as girlfriend material. Argh…when I first arrived at Kingsway student accommodation, he was the first guy I met. Apart from being a jerk for doing all the wonderful things for me but not wanting me to be his girl, Kabelo Peterson was a good guy. He had gorgeous, rich dreadlocks and always smelt fantastic. By the way, I have a thing for men that smell good and know how to take care of themselves because it indicates that we share a common interest in cleanliness. Unlike Michael, Kabelo kept me hidden from the rest of the world. He never mentioned me, his friends were unaware of my presence, and I knew no one important in his life. Because he was so busy, he couldn’t always make time for me. I didn’t mind at the time because I didn’t want to be in a relationship, but can a girl be appreciated? I felt used, but I couldn’t describe it since every time he came to see me, he brought gifts, chocolates, drinks, and food. All the things that took my attention away from the fact that he was purchasing my time. Until one day, after he had left my place, he decided to post a picture of his ex-girlfriend with the message, “You the only one I see myself with.” The Audacity! I didn’t even bother to tell him about it because I knew I wasn’t the “perfect” girl for him. I continued to cry myself to sleep and mind my own business.

I went out with my friends after a week and met Mr. Noble. I didn’t think he was appealing at first because he was a DJ and Zulu, and we all know how that story ends. I refer to him as Mr. Noble because he made me feel immature and that I needed to change. That night was a blast; I was still experimenting with make-up and learning how to do my hair at the time, so I wasn’t in my best look, but he liked something about me. He was odd and secluded. I doubt we would have talked if I hadn’t asked him to pass the pipe. But as soon as we began conversing, I realized he wasn’t a bad guy. He only wanted to be the greatest in the industry and take care of his siblings. The night had to come to an end, so he asked if he can walk me out. Now, I don’t want to give too much information away because I’m keeping that for my Aquarius man, but Mr. Noble made sure to plant a kiss on my lips that made me think about him on the way back home.

He paid me a visit the following day. He made sure to bring some of my favorite snacks and foods. Please, guys, make sure you grasp the significance of not showing up to your woman empty-handed. Come on now, it’s like a culture. Anyway, spending time with Mr. Noble made me realize that I may have been too harsh in my opinion of him. He made it clear that he wanted me to be his girlfriend, but I requested for more time because I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to commit. Also, I wasn’t about to forsake my plans only for a yellow bone I had just met. I went about my business as usual, making time for him whenever he was available. One of the things I disliked about him was that whenever he came to see me, he would fall asleep after we’d finished our thing. What am I? A guest room where you come to sleep and then immediately bounce when you wake up? I’m sorry…No.

We didn’t work out, obviously. I was far too crazy for him, and all he wanted was a woman who would listen to him and not speak her mind, because anytime I did, he would tell me that I was still young and needed to progress. He blocked me on all his social media channels after eight months, but I would still wile out anytime I saw him at a club because… how do you do that? I recall pouring him with a glass of cold water the last time I saw him. To begin with, I was wrong for choosing violence, although I was surprised at how he ignored me when I wanted to speak with him, all because he wanted to impress a female. I would have left if he had just said, “I don’t want to talk,” but instead YOU IGNORE ME. Sir, did you ignore me the previous time you came to sleep at my place?

Anyway, before Aquarius man, the universe had placed two other males in my path. I shall, however, resume the story the following Sunday. Thank you for taking the time to read, and I eagerly await your response.

From Jazmine Warrior, I hope to see you soon.

Posted on September 26, 2021April 6, 2022 by Ozora T Seopa

Last of Erica

Did I just…

This picture is with two of my closest friends. We are not Erica, Lisa and Hope. The image is just here to sevre as a representation of the three girls in the story. Please don't get it twisted.
-Author

Good afternoon

I’m tempted to ask about your week, but I’m sure you’re all eagerly waiting for the story. Please read ‘Erica?!’, first if you haven’t already. Also, please read episode 2 titled ‘Royal, but…’, before moving on to episode 3 titled ‘Did I just…’

Now, with everything out of the way, let’s get started. Lisa and I had been friends for about two months before I had the opportunity to sleep over at her house. My mother was not fond of allowing me to have sleepovers, but we made the effort to spend as much time as possible together. We would always hang out at school before the first sleepover, and after school, we would sometimes head to town and chill out at her father’s salon. Some days, we’d take the bus home from school and wait for her father to pick her up at my mother’s workplace. Most of the time, she would come to my house, and we would watch television while doing our homework, and then I would walk her home.

Sundays were the worst for me because Groblersdal was a small town, and we all went to the same church. Others, on the other hand, didn’t love going to church, and I can’t say I blame them because the church was full of lost souls who preferred to condemn others rather than fixing themselves. I won’t dispute, going to church isn’t my favorite hobby. However, I found myself fighting with the thoughts I had ignored about Lisa at the time. I used to avoid Lisa whenever I went to church the next Monday, not because I didn’t want to see her, but because I thought being around her made me a sinner. To be honest, I think she knew why I avoided her because instead of following me around, she would slip me a note in my book that said, “There is no need to avoid me you know,” while I went to the bathroom. Her note would sometimes be a sonnet or sentimental quotes about how much she loves me and doesn’t want to lose me. Every part of me would be overjoyed as soon as I read her notes. Within the next few minutes, I’d switched tables to sit next to her.

Everyone assumed we were already lovers at this point, and whenever I avoided her, others would refer to us as the angry birds. Some boys would sing “Two little birds, sitting in the tree”, as soon as I moved to sit next to her. The main mean girls would then discuss how inappropriate it is for two girls to be so close, but as you know, Lisa and I were uninterested about what other people thought or said. We seemed to be in our own little world. For some time, this back-and-forth went on until the sleepover. I remember going to town with her to ask her father for the home keys and if I could sleep over, and I honestly hoped he would say no, but instead he said yes. We then took the school bus, and she kept saying how happy she is to show me her room and introduce me to her younger brother, but I couldn’t help but wonder if being alone with her for the night was a wise choice. We got off the bus and walked to my mother’s workplace to ask if I could sleep over, and a part of me was relieved because I knew my mother wouldn’t let me down, and she did.

Every nerve in my body was now twitching. She asked if I was okay as we walked to my house to grab clothes and cosmetics. I lied and said yes, she then grabbed my hand in hers and tenderly kissed it. “If you don’t want to sleep over, we can always cancel,” she replied. All those doubts and thoughts I kept overthinking on the way faded as soon as she said we may cancel, and it was in the way she looked at me. I agreed with a smile and a nod. One thing my friends despise about me is my indecisiveness. You can never be confident of my decision since I can change my mind in a matter of seconds. We ran into Hope as we walked to her house from gathering my belongings. Hope was Lisa’s girlfriend, but I didn’t realize it until we arrived at her place.

Hope welcomed me with such excitement on the way, expressing that she had heard nothing but beautiful deeds about me. I didn’t understand why she was so cheerful, or why she was accompanying us on our walk. When we arrived at Lisa’s house, she was immediately at comfort and offered me a drink while Lisa carried my belongings to her room. I found myself asking her why she was here out of insecurity. “She’s a feisty one.”, Lisa said as she was walking in. “I’m here because Lisa wanted me to meet her best friend.” Hope responded to my question, I felt myself easing off on her presents within minutes.

Because I was an athlete at the time, I didn’t drink alcohol, but when Lisa offered me a glass of brown liquor that afternoon, I accepted it. “Slow down baby, that’s no juice,” Hope exclaimed after I finished the entire drink, and we all burst into laughter. We laughed, joked, and gossiped about folks from church and school for nearly two hours. We also discussed how thrilled we are to begin university life and planned to study at the same area. Hope and I continued talking until she said she was going to check on Lisa, who stood up and claimed she needed to go to the bathroom ten minutes ago. After what seemed like a decade of their disappearing, I decided to check on them.

“Hope, Lisa. I asked, “Where are you?” as I stumbled over my own feet. I heard laughter coming from a room further down the corridor. I walked into them kissing, completely unaware of what was happening. Stupid me apologizes for intruding and attempts to flee. Lisa instantly stops me from opening the door. I had heat flashes right afterwards and remember mentally shouting, “GOD WHAT IS THIS?!?” Outside, though, I was as cool as a cucumber. Lisa then took my hand in hers and gently kissed it, asking, “Have you ever kissed a girl?” Of course not, but I found myself unable to express myself and instead shook my head in disapproval. She continued, “Would you like to try?” as she inched closer to me. “God, are we allowed to be kissing?” I wondered, my insides twisting inside out as I tried to figure out whether this was even right. Obviously not, given you said in the word…”, I felt the softest lips brush against my lips, bringing me back to the present time.

She pushes me gently towards the bed, where Hope had been eagerly waiting for us. Hope stands up and gives Lisa a look that felt like she was asking for her consent because it was the same look, she gave me when I was drawn to her. Hope placed a kiss on the edge of my right shoulder before leisurely moving along to my neck. First and foremost, I’d like to point out that that was the first time I felt the back of my hair rise. She then kissed me again, this time on my lips, assuring that I was left stimulated. To be honest, I have no idea if I was a decent kisser because it was the first time that afternoon. I could tell they were experienced, though, because they were able to make me feel at ease without having to say anything. Hope and Lisa invited me to join them on the bed, but my legs wouldn’t move. I tried, but nothing happened. Just as I had accepted that I had sinned and that it is what it is, my legs decide otherwise.

Hope and Lisa continued with what I had interrupted when I went in, because no one has time for an indecisive girl. I’m not sure how long I stood there; nonetheless, it was long enough for them to remove their clothing and for me to remain perplexed as to what I should do. Lisa stopped and gave me those puppy eyes that said, “Why are you standing there?” I swear something moved me because I found myself removing my clothing and anxiously climbing into bed. They split up with the aim to create space for me in the middle. I’ve never had so much attention given to me, and I swear it turned me on how much Lisa and Hope desired me. Who knew feminine energy could be so attractive? Lisa came closer, making sure her face was inches away from mine, and I made sure I was comfy against the pillows. As she carefully moved to my right ear lope, she asked, “Are you okay?” Listen to me when I say there’s something about my right side of the body since I felt a drop escape from a spot I didn’t see coming.

I agreed once more with a nod of my head. You’re probably asking why I couldn’t speak. Apart from the fact that it was my first time, it all felt like I was in a fantasy film. Also, because Hope was rousing my vulva at the time, replying to Lisa was impossible. “Goodness me,” I said as I tried to conceal the fact that everything felt unreal and far too good to be true. That is one experience I would gladly repeat. Hope was aware of what she was up to, and it was difficult for me to concentrate on the sensation of Lisa nuzzling my good side with her soft lips while gently caressing my booby. They both had this tickle trick where their tongue lightly twirls and moistens their lips while kissing you. My vulva was moistened as a result of the tickling trick. IT MADE MY PUSSY WET, to put it another way.

The image is just here to sevre as a representation of Erica in the story. Please don't get it twisted. I am not Erica.
-Author

I didn’t know anything, but I didn’t have to that day because they took care of me; it was as if they had planned everything a long time ago, and instead of feeling like Lisa had fooled me, I felt comfortable. I was happier to have met her since it was the first time in my dull life that I could say I had done something extraordinary. I still find it difficult to consider myself in a “relationship” with a female, preferring instead to have fun before we part ways. It never works because I compare every woman I meet to Lisa. Lisa had a knack for saying the perfect thing at the right time. By the way she stared at me, Lisa understood exactly how to entice my lady bits. Her touch was seductive, and when I recall how she carefully massaged my vulva, making sure to use her fingertip to promote lubrication. A part of me dies inside, knowing that no one would ever touch me like she did. She managed to awaken something in me that I could not ignore any longer that day. She was able to share me with Hope, and they both helped me recognize that I am bisexual and that I no longer need to resist.

What happened to Lisa? You might be wondering, but I’m afraid I don’t know. We all laid still until we heard the garage door open after the intense moment, and then we all rushed to get dressed. Hope left after thirty minutes because it was becoming dark, and Lisa and I spent the rest of the evening relaxing. I didn’t have the nerve to mention anything about what had happened earlier, and I’m guessing she wasn’t either. We were able to complete our studies while also watching television. We were back to our ordinary hangout routine, and as much as I kept replaying what had happened, I was relieved there were no awkward feelings.

My mom picked me up from her place the next day, which was a Saturday. Instead of returning home, she informs me that we will be taking a road trip to see some relatives. Sorry to say this, but my mother was a liar that day; she practically conned me because the only reason she allowed the sleepover was because she had planned for us to relocate. She did it again, but this time she kept it hidden from me because we had a big fight the last time we moved. I didn’t witness the moving truck because her daughter was being scissored at the time, and I also didn’t get to say goodbye to Lisa Solo.

That concludes the tale of how I, Erica Royal, came to accept my sexuality. I hope you found it enjoyable, and don’t forget to like, comment, and share it. Don’t forget to sign up for more stories by clicking below. I’m not sure if you can tell, but my tone is a little gloomy. I guess reminiscing has its downsides.

Till Next Time.

Second of Erica

Royal, but…

What’s new, what’s hot, y’all…

I’ve returned. According to the author, some of you were frustrated with how the story ended. I also heard that some of you were perplexed as to whether Thabile was “the girl”, you know…wink wink. Okay, jokes aside, today I’m going to try to tell you what you need to know without writing too much. Hopefully, this will calm your concerns and provide answers to your questions.

For those of you who may not have read part 1 of who I am, please kindly read Erica?! Prior to reading Royal, but… Let’s get started. Aytiee. I’m back to tell you about an experience from four years ago that reveals how difficult it was for me to embrace my sexuality.

Erica Royal is my name, and yes, I am bisexual. Because I grew up in several different areas, I am unable to tell you where I grew up. However, I can tell you that I am the only child and that I am 22 years old, studying for a Bachelor of Engineering Science in Digital Art at Wits University.

My mother and I moved to Groblersdal, a small town in Mpumalanga, around four years ago. I was in matric at the time, and I was attending Juliann Muller High School. I despised the school since most of the girls were bullies. I remember telling Thabile about it all the time, and she repeatedly reminded me to stand my ground and fight for myself. So, every time someone decided to be hateful for no reason, I listened and began telling it like it is. I had no idea that implementing Thabile’s advice would get me brownie points with Lisa.

Lisa Solo was the most stunning woman I had ever seen. Trust me when I say that all girls are attractive, and I know that some of you may disagree. When it comes to Lisa, on the other hand, you’d battle me simply to get her to notice you. She was, after all, every guy’s fantasy, a calm lady who only talked when it was necessary. She smelled heavenly and had the finest skin imaginable. People called her ngwana wa le yellow bone, wa di koti marameng on the streets. To be honest, I’m not sure how I’d translate that without compromising the sentiment. Slenda! Mami was just the right amount of petite. Gosh darn, that lady was a walking angel, to say the least.

It was the way she carried herself that caught my attention. The gentleness in which she walked and the way she spoke quietly while gently enunciating each syllable. Knowing how women dislike one other, it was clear why so many girls discriminated on her only because of her beauty and intelligence. However, I found myself fighting for her against those girls. Whenever someone in class labeled her a slob, I would urge them to check themselves first before checking her. When someone called her boujee in the hallways of the school, I would urge them to look the word up because they were clearly misinterpreting it as an insult rather than a compliment. I did all those things without realizing I was protecting her, but she managed to pick up on it.

She once helped me walk to the sick bay after I was stung by a bee. Knowing how dramatic I am, I feared I was going to drop dead, and instead of thinking I was a drama queen, she graciously took my hand and said, “If you drop dead, who is going to love me like you do?” To be honest, I could not even read between the lines of what she was saying, so I assumed she merely wanted to be friends with me. We began hanging out together on that day, and she quickly became my second closest friend. I’m usually quite touchy after I’ve found comfort in someone, and it didn’t take me long to soothe her smooth tights. Unaware of what I was doing to her.

Everyone began to speculate that we were lovers, and we did act as if we were. In class, we always sat next to each other. When walking to the tuck shop, we always held hands. The innocents in me assumed we were just close friends, but the spirit in me sensed there was something more I was avoiding. I recall the first time I returned from a sleepover at her house one night. ‘God, I truly care about Lisa,’ I wrote in my diary, ‘I sometimes feel as if I want her around all the time, and I don’t believe that makes sense.’

I’m sorry, but the story must end right now. When it’s about to get blazing, I know. But don’t panic, si on, we’ll be back next week Sunday. Please take the time to like, comment, and share. If you haven’t already, please subscribe to ensure that you’re the first to know when I publish. This is the second episode, and the final episode will be published next week. There will be a live on Instagram on Monday at 9 p.m, just a reminder. I will read for you and respond to any questions you may have.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and have a wonderful Sunday afternoon.

Erica?!

Hello there…

This is surprising because I specifically requested that the author write my story last, which plainly did not happen because I am the first to narrate the story. To be honest, I’m rather upset since no one, and I mean no one, enjoys going first. Don’t worry though, I’m not going to betray you by telling you some dull story; instead, let me save you time and jump right into it. Erica is my given name. Erica Royal.

I don’t enjoy disclosing people my age, but to give you a clear picture of myself, I turned 22 earlier this year; however, as narrators, we will not give you our dates of birth because it’s against the guidelines. The author claims that she prefers not to reveal too much about the key characters because she wants you to use your imagination to picture who I am. With that out of the way, you’ll have to figure out what star sign I fall under. Luckily for you, I’ll provide you with all the nit and grit you’ll need to make this journey entertaining.

Let me begin by mentioning that I despise being among people; I prefer my own privacy and feel safer in my own home. I will, however, occasionally go out with my “friends” because I am in university, and you know how the pressure can get to you. I won’t mislead you; I only have one friend. I don’t make many friends since my mother moves us around a lot, and it’s easier for me to avoid becoming attached to many individuals. Don’t bother trying to figure out why my mother keeps moving us around; I’ve given up. When it comes to coping with her troubles, I swear she’s worse than I am.

Don’t get me wrong: I still adore her since she takes care of me so well. She encourages me when I’m down, and I don’t know about you, but my mother recognizes that I’m a sad person. She attempts to put a smile on my face every day by getting me whatever I desire, starting with the fact that she bought me a car for my birthday this year. Yes, I do have a license, boo. Don’t you? If you don’t, I strongly advise you to STOP RIGHT NOW and GET YOUR LICENSE. I won’t be able to take you on the N1, so don’t waste your time reading and fantasizing about me.

Anyway, my friend’s name is Lethabo, and believe me when I say he is the funniest person I’ve ever encountered. His life is kind of like a movie; there’s drama with him and his major friends with benefits every day, and he seems not to care. I wish I had the ability to be more like him. Be more social and outgoing. I’m sure people are perplexed as to how a cool person like him and a girl like me became friends. Lethabo seems to like me, as in he wants to sleep with me, but I told him I wouldn’t break my virginity until am twenty-five. He insists he can wait, which I’m sure he won’t because he’s not my type. I’m sorry, but he really is a kind guy, or at least tries to be.

It’s just that I’m wary of boys. All my mother’s stories about them and their manhood frightens me, but I promised myself that when I’m twenty-five, I’ll finally face my fear. I have everything figured out; I will have graduated by that age and will be a successful game developer. Because I have the greatest body of all time, I will be a hot sexy nerd. I’m stripping the first tall dark and attractive gentleman that gives me that “come here baby” gesture. Don’t overthink things; it all makes sense in my head.

I’ve decided to brief you about an event that occurred four years ago. I probably should have stated that I am bisexual at the beginning. For those of you who don’t know what bisexual means, a bisexual is a person who is sexually attracted to both males and females, according to several descriptions available on the internet. Being a part of the LGBT community is the greatest, like we’re the most vibrant individuals on the planet. Don’t get me wrong: I think you’re still awesome even if you’re not one of the magnificent humans. You are great because you decided to read about my story. With that stated, accepting my sexuality was not simple for me.

In fact, I felt like I was lost for a while. Because I grew up in a home where God was the foundation, I struggled to accept myself after reading the Bible. Until I relocated to Groblersdal, a little town in Mpumalanga. That place was unpleasant; it was scorching hot, worse than Limpopo. Thabile was my friend at the time, and she was a nasty. She was a majestic lady who understood the kind woman she was, she was nasty as in a flirtations’ beautiful queen who always got what she desired. When it comes to the types of friends I have, it’s evident that I always attract the absolute opposite.

Because she was so stunning, she always wore the shortest skirts with the aim to show of her shapely legs and had her hair and nails were up to date every time I saw her. Due to her, I appear presentable, although before we met, all I wore were baggy Karki trousers and black hoodies. When I used to go to her house for sleepovers, she would question, “Why are you hiding all those curves?” We used to have lip-sync battles in front of the mirror all the time, and she never made me feel uncomfortable about not being as attractive as she was. When I think about her, I realize she was one of my favorites out of all the places I’ve resided and the people I’ve met. Although we went to different high schools, I only got to see her after school and on weekends.

I’m disappointed I’ll have to put the story to a stop, but don’t sweat, I’ll pick up where I left off next week Sunday. Meanwhile, don’t forget to like, comment, follow, and share on social media. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope to see you soon.

My heart is broken

Howdy…

This may come as a surprise to you. Why am I here posting instead of concentrating on academics, as I previously stated?

I hope you can tell on what you’ve read about me so far that I’m an emotional person. I get moody from time to time, which causes me to withdraw from the world and, more significantly, from those who care about me. I consider myself fortunate to have friends and family who understand and support me for who I am. Regrettably, I am not my typical self today. Yes, I am grateful to be alive this morning, but not everyone in my family can say the same.

Lauretta Maphaka Teffo was an angel sent from on above who came to earth to fulfill her dreams of becoming a tenacious community leader, an elegant mother, a supporting sister, a compassionate friend, and a tranquil daughter.

To be truthful, I didn’t know Miss Teffo very well, but I saw her at family gatherings all the time, and she always complimented my appearance. One thing I knew about her was that she was polite and kindhearted. My mother and I have always viewed ourselves as queens, and as a result, we have chosen to remain rooted in the Lord and his word. Unfortunately, this might make others feel uneasy since something deep inside them is being challenged. Nonetheless Sesi Laula adored my mother and me from the moment she met us. She would communicate with my mother daily.

They spoke about anything and everything, but their daughters were always a topic of conversation. They used to tease each other about how similar their lives were. My mother experienced a genuine connection and sisterhood with someone for the first time, and it made me happy. Sesi Laula’s ability to make my mother happy made me happy.

My sister Laula died last Thursday, and I found out about it on Thursday. I was unsure who my mom was talking about at first until she provided me a photo of her. When my mother returned from work, she found me crying. She attempted to console me by telling me to be strong and that she was resting peacefully, but she didn’t realize I wasn’t grieving because Sesi Laula had died. I, on the other hand, was grieving for her daughter. Remember the similarities I mentioned? Miss Teffo, like my mother, has only a daughter who is four years old. It crushed my heart to learn how being an only child leads to you becoming closest friends with your mother. I started screaming as if it had been my mother who had died.

Who will she now confide in throughout her day? Who would she turn to for advice now if a boy bothers her at school? Who’s going to tell her jokes purely to make her laugh on days when she’s in a grumpy mood? Lord, who?

“I am the resurrection and the life,” you stated in your word. A person who believes in me will live even if they die, and a person who lives by believing in me will never die.” I know she’ll be alive in her heart, and I know her spirit will be there to help her. Yet I can’t help but weep for her. Who will continue to pamper her like a princess and acquire whatever she desires? Who is going to instill in her the value of education? Who will teach her the value of being a woman and the roots we all have deep within our souls?

“If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord,” you said. I understand that whether Sesi Laula lives or dies, she belongs to you Lord, and I recognize that accepting a loss is difficult because death is not a wedding one can plan for. We have no choice but to rely in your plan because it emerged out of nowhere. All I ask is that you continue to be there for her, as you have been for all of the other young girls who have lost their mothers.

Continue to be there for her, same as you were for all the other daughters who lost their mothers before they could see them marry. I ask that you remain to be there for her in the same manner that you have been there for all the females who have lost their mothers and beat the odds to become accomplished and educated. You’ve never abandoned any of them, and I have faith in you to never abandon her.

With that said, Father, I know you have heard my cry.

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