Sun blazed stories & False promises

Mauritius, I’m sorry I left you. I know you think I’ve forgotten you. I know you think I’ve erased you from my mind. I haven’t. How could I ever do such a thing? Mauritius, you took my heart. You broke it and kept some pieces with you. You took them and hid them away within our memories together. You buried them in the white sand of Pereybere and let some float away in the port of Grand baie. You know how much that place means to me. You gave some to the mountains and sprinkled some in the sky. I’ve never seen the stars like I’ve seen them with you. How can I love you and hate you at the same time. Mauritius, how can I despise you when you touched my life in a way no one could but Mauritius, my memories have so many points of sadness and distress.

You were my dream. My future. My potential blood. You were my life. My body. My mind. My soul was with you Mauritius. You were meant to keep me. Instead you showed me your ugly truths. All the beautiful exteriors, promises and sun blazed stories. You took them away from me. You lied. You tricked me. I’m going to tell the world about you Mauritius. The truth. One day.

Right now I am a coward. I am ignoring your wrath. I’m in a dream and being completely selfish to protect myself. You’ve made me hide away from the cruelty and pain that is still very much alive every day. I am reminded daily by photos and stories from my dear friends there with you still working to save the lives of the voiceless. The nightmares I had with you Mauritius, those first few weeks especially. The tears I cried just from hearing the screams of those needing souls during the warm nights.

Mauritius you were supposed to show me beauty, but your beauty is harshly overcome with the truth of those who do not speak. Those animals. My animals. You should be ashamed. You’ve left me hiding, wearing my rose tinted glasses back here in England. You left me struggling to keep in contact. To keep helping. You’ve done that. It won’t be forever Mauritius but the voiceless don’t have a minute to loose. Be ready for me Mauritius. I’m almost done. I’m almost ready to step back into your fucked up reality of beauty mixed with pain. I will help. I will do what I can. I will give my heart back. But it’s not for you Mauritius. It will never be for you.

For the voiceless, the angels and my friends.


#metoo dedicated to you.

Why is one so innocent yet so aggressively incompetent to the needs of faded stories and life like puzzled minds. One who would surpass ones own fucked up mind to feel burning embers of a dark secret coated in sweet honey. I wonder. The taste. The king, he feels his need lies here. Lies. Dark salty and tasteless but covered in roses without thorns, smelling like sweet sweet euphoria. One which was guided into a feeling of utopia. When ones body becomes so engrossed in a life of touch, softly. Touch less. Spiking at each moment, one of which is not pleasure anymore but pain of death. Feeling of death and disaster is this normal. One asks. One begs. Silence is golden but this silence is only giving gold a reason to die. Changing shape of ones own mind in one simple swoop of fire. Burn. Burn me I don’t want this treasure. Life. Yellow in colour but colourblind am I to believe such a story from romeos mouth. Death is prominent yet makes me feel so alive. One will not fall. A story which has been regurgitated like a jakal. A jakal that sounds like ones jeckle. Where’s Hyde? A drum beats hard on the chest of a predator, one of which is shackled by feet, by breath, by ones natural urge to kill. Human. Hate. Disguised by ones heart of a four legged creature craving his owners approval. Gone. Never. Sun. Star. Space. Explosion into nothingness of a stricken city. Years before one felt any need to save a planet. Self. Selfish one is to believe himself a butterfly in a world of moths. Crow is he. Black hearted member of a buried body full of soil which one gives life to grow. The growth of ones own heart only to magnify into unspotted dominoes, dark in colour with a unstoppable ripple. A stone. Hard. Spoiling ones calm karma of an ocean untouched of fear and loathing neediness to prove a beautiful lie of life. One can’t approve. One can’t take this strike of the skittles without screaming the score. The score stays silent. It’s not ok. Equal is not a word one speaks. For he is a king and she is a queen under kind henrys order. Here. Now. Strength is prominent. Light is clear. Ones sight sees what others nature can’t. #metoo unfortunate misfortune to bow to ones power of evil. But. One survives. She survives. She survived.

2011 -2012 excerpt. One of many memories. Life. Love and Truth.

Girl Disrupted

“Mental Health comes in many forms however one thing is for certain and that is most of the time it’s invisible and hard to understand. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. But if there is one thing, it’s that it does get better. It always gets better. I’m proof to myself of that. The day you finally find peace with yourself is the day you’re set free.”



Fighting with the animal inside, the one who is misunderstood. Broken. Unable to differentiate between fear and excitement. That awkward build up of mid drift pain when anxiety claws its way around you engulfing you in a pool of black tar. Not being able to move. Frozen whilst being burnt with sparks of disaster. If anxiety could be seen you’d see the skin flaking off me like burning embers on a wild flame created from a dragons snarl. It’s normal. It’s normal to us. That animal is in our spirit but it’s not there by choice. The deep dark secrets it knows holds you to ransom, you have no option but to give in and bow down whilst it rips into your organs and destroys your brain giving you a burst of outrageous behaviour. They can’t see it. They don’t want too. I don’t want too. Who would? Girl disrupted.

The creature has grown 100 times in size since it first fed on the emotions of an 11 year old girl. It was silent. It’s unseen. The fireworks inside are not those of beauty and colour but more of loud screams and havoc. Please take it away. Tell it to go because I have no control. Sleep is intermittent and the days are long. It sits on my shoulder and whispers disturbing untruths in my ear. It obscures my vision and shows me the devil in many forms. I’m scared. It’s talking to depression and inviting him in. I’m too weak to fight it off. Girl disrupted.

How can I explain this creature which has me in chains in my own body. It traps me inside my home and throws away the key. I can’t leave. I can’t escape. I’m paranoid. The hold is too strong to enable the few positive creature free endorphins to be released into my blood stream. I can’t breathe. It has the grip of a python around my neck, the weight of a thousand buildings on my chest. I’m not exaggerating. Or am I? That’s not me it’s that thing. That thing inside which I am only but a slave. It’s the animal which fills my mind with poison… See everything looks different, distorted, disgusting. Everything sounds different, negative, angry. Anxiety has me creating absurd stories and controlling me like a puppet on strings. Do you know what it’s like to not have control of your own body. Your life. Your mind? I’m wearing thin although the demonic entity inside my mind is stronger than ever. Feeding off me like a dementor except this one is magic. Its invisible. Girl disrupted.

Sanity – 2 min poem

People think I should be sad, they even think I should cry.

They say I’ve been through hell and back, I have I ant gonna lie.

But one thing they have to get is that I am very content, it doesn’t matter what’s gone wrong or any need to repent.

It’s ok to be happy even if it’s been bad, I’ve never been so happy now after all the sad.

So before you tell me your sorry or offer your shoulder to cry, please take note that I’m ok, I’m like a bird in the sky!

People see my writing and say they can feel my pain, well of course you can my dear it’s my expression and blood in my veins.

My writing aims to touch; to tell a bitter truth, to catch the hearts of those who read and put them in my shoes.

So please take it in and feel what I show, but don’t worry about my mind it’s more sane than you know.

I am not my hair

I’m not my hair. I’m not my make up. I’m not my clothes or my break up. I’m not that wine. I’m not that car. I’m not anything you that you think you are.

I’m not rich. I don’t have a lot. But I have friends and family that you do not. I’m judged if I do. I’m judged if I don’t. You think it’s funny. Yes take a joke.

The truth of it all is I came back with nothing. But that would be lying as I came back with everything. Love in my heart. Head clear as skies. Experiences I’ll never loose. And here as a wife.

I left it all behind. A suitcase all I had. A few old things I bought along. Neither good or bad. A dear friend took me in. Fed me and all. Sheltered me with warm feelings and let down her wall.

She borrowed her clothes. Her makeup. Her car. She bought me drinks at a number of bars. She then and now still makes sure I’m happy. All this because she is my best chappie.

My family and friends showed me support. Took me out. Showed me love. And gave me food for thought.

My jobs landed beautifully. I’d say I’m lucky. I always work hard. Soon I’ll see the money. Life is about chances. And that’s what I take. Mauritius I haven’t forgotten you. You’re my life for goodneess sake.

So when you next see a selfie post. A Snapchat story or Facebook boast. Just remember. Never to judge. Because you don’t know the background or anything you should.

Happiness is obvious you can see in my face. But material struggle in this life has left me with a chase. Back to square one. But that’s ok. I have everything I need right here. My friends. My family. My life. My doorway.

Flight B77 – MRU to UK via Germany : 26/07/17

Flight Memoir – Logged 26/07/17 

It’s a strange feeling to be leaving a place which I thought would be my forever home. To think I had all my bets on this place. My life, my job, my future. A sense of sadness is in my mind but I can’t help feeling some what free. A complete wholeness of freedom inside of me. I feel young. As if I’m 20 years old again taking my first ever long haul flight going on an adventure but really I’m just going home. It never ceases to amaze me that I get the urge to leave home only too often to then feel pure excitement at the thought of going back. You could say my life is like a rollercoaster nobody knows what’s going to happen next! What move will I make? Will I turn everything upside down? I don’t even know.

I feel like a coward leaving as I have done. My feelings on life are completely clear but my feelings on love are messy. I love my husband but the feeling of leaving him isn’t like before. I feel freedom. And I know this can’t be a sign which is healthy! I’ve avoided writing about this subject only because I haven’t had the opportunity. I’ve been pretty  stuck, unable to express myself. But as I sit here on flight B77 listening to a meditation album which I just downloaded yesterday I feel like a bird. I’m flying. I am able to fully expand my wings and I can write anything. I can vomit all my emotions onto paper and it wouldn’t matter. No one can see. No one can be hurt. 

My life in Mauritius hasn’t been all beaches and sunshine. People like to dream, they like to assume. They build an image in their mind. They slate their own country and compare their life to mine. They tell me I’m living the dream. They tell me I’m stupid to come back to the place we call England. I don’t disagree, I don’t disagree that what they see is paradise. So many people live their lives yearning to live abroad. They think that any place with the sun, sand and sea must be better than England. No?? I left England for one reason. Love. My husband. Someone which I was head over heels and me… crazy. I just do things. Anything I want to do, I’ll do it. I have no children. No responsibilities. I’m 29, by this age I’d already dreamed my life away – I’d planned children, a house, a stable job. Ha, it’s quite laughable now. I don’t feel old. I’m not ashamed of my decisions in life. When I look around and see all my friends and family settled in work, children and marriage. Something which once appealed to me is now something which is just a distant thought. Feels like yesterday I was settling down for the hundredth time. The truth is I got married. I am a married women. But I don’t feel married, I didn’t have a big wedding with a big dress. I didn’t have my father walking me down the isle. It’s sad. Non of my friends or family. The whole build up to the day was stressful. I meant every word I said on the day. Vows which I’m afraid will be and are broken. 

Is there such thing as the one? One true love. One you spend you life with? I don’t know. But I have a theory. You have opportunities in this world. You meet many people. You grow, you learn. Life is a journey. You might fall in love a hundred times or you might not. But it’s not just about love. It’s about whether two people are compatible. Make each other smile. Bring the best out of each other. We are not robots. Meet someone, fall in love and make babies. Live the rest of your life in one place and then die. How does that make sense? We hold onto things when we should maybe let go to be able to be truly happy. I feel like up until now even though I’ve learnt many things I have been making the same mistakes one after one. And, I’ll continue making mistakes but one thing I’m sure of is this feeling of freedom and absolute clarity 40,000 miles above ground.

So I’ll live and I’ll love because life is about chances, opportunity, the now, not the later. The choices to do and be who you want. And to be sound in knowing that you can love, meet, dance, kiss or dismiss one thousand people in your life. But until you can accept that it’s your life and you need more than love alone to create a story book at least always be true to you.

They say it’s sad

It’s sad to think you were once in love. So in love you couldn’t explain in words, your heart would beat so fast and your body would fill with uncontrollable butterflies. 

It’s sad to think that once you made mountains of promises and vows which now lay aside in a deep grave filled with emptiness and dead soil. Promises of growing old and never giving up on something which you thought was worth more than the worthiness gem on the earth. A promise which you could never believe would be broken as it was a rare diamond shining so bright like a one billion year old star. 

It’s sad to think your heart and soul was completely and utterly intertwined like twisted wild weeds wrapped around a wooden fence which lead to a beautiful utopia. 

It’s sad to think our feelings can change as fast as the wind changes its direction or just as fast as a English summer can disappear in the blink of an eye. 

But what a beautiful thing to be able to feel. Feel the feelings of being in love, to feel the warmth but at the same time a daring heartache of a beautiful connection between two people. 

It’s sad. But don’t you think it’s wonderful. Don’t you think it’s wonderful to have felt that and to have taken a leap of spontaneity… to have had taken off like a rocket and experienced an outer space life whilst watching the earth move around in the same way week by week. 

The beauty of love, the sadness, the happiness, the pure joy and complete hatred. All within a short space of time. It’s sad. They say… it’s sad. But all I see is a beautiful experience, a travel in time and a wild life full of fire and knowledge. 

It’s not sad. It’s life. We feel, we love, we change, we learn and then some…