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#black writer

Struggle.


I didn’t make the world this way, I was born into it. I never asked my parents to have me, but I was born into it. I didn’t ask for five more children to be born into an unhappy marriage, resulting in 6 unhappy little lives left to fend for themselves. I never asked to be in charge of them, I never asked to be eldest. I never asked for the responsibility. I never asked for my daddy to stay gone when momma kicked him out. I never wanted any of this.

But I was born into it.

When you’re born into struggle, into hate, into hurt, the world teaches that is all you deserve. That’s all you will ever get. You can’t reach for more; no matter how many plates you set your table will only ever be this small. You’ll only ever feed these morsels and scraps of food to ungrateful mouths who will never know your joy, your specialities, your talents, your soul. You’ll sit forever at a small table feeding the same foreign mouths soul food that they can’t digest, that will forever have to be translated.

The struggle teaches those born into it, that this is life. To struggle, to hurt, to want but never be satiated, to work but never have enough. We get so lost in the cycle that we keep the same friends who drag us back, we protect the family that tears us apart, all because if one struggles, than we all must struggle, because struggle, like misery, loves company.

So it’s crazy. Struggle told me I was crazy to believe in love. To watch princesses all saved by a prince, and think “I don’t want to be saved. I just want to be loved”. Struggle equated a white savior with love, thought any man willing to be near me must care for me because my own father couldn’t bother to stay close. Struggle is sometimes loud, overpowering. But struggle late at night whispers, spins webs and tales of every reason no one will love you, why no one will stay, why everyone around you is happy and in love, and yet you can’t seem to figure this thing out. Struggle reminds me that I am unworthy of a soulmate, suggests that life would be more fun unattached, never caring for anyone who got too close, never staying where I was wanted, always leaving before the hurt could ice my spine and chill my bones. Struggle wrote me love notes that all ended in “its easier this way. Trust me”.

And it’s crazy. Despite the years of frost Struggle barricaded my heart in, despite the ball and chain attached to the mouth of my soul, despite all the people who swore it was impossible to know me well enough to love me-

I listened to her instead.

She says I love you thousands of miles away from me, and the ice melts.

She says I love you in the language my soul speaks, and the locks fall away.

She says I love you; all I can say back is I love you too. But what I really want to say is thank you, I’ve been waiting for you.

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January

I’m obsessed with eating overpriced, healthy foods that would look excellent on an Instagram feed. I work out in the middle of the day and admire how my sweaty skin glistens in the sunlight peaking through the window. I’m allowing myself to feel. Cry if need be. Laugh, even if I’m by myself, when I find something funny. I don’t raise my voice when I’m angry. I like to find a common ground. I write my reoccurring thoughts in a journal so that five years from now I can look back and say “Babe, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.” or “Yeah, I did that and then some.” When I see someone beautiful, I tell them. Why keep that a secret? Their bright smiles and thankfulness make me feel full. I acknowledge when I am in the wrong. Maybe not immediately but I do. I have no interest in choking back the “I was wrong.” People need to know I value them more than my ego. I’m changing and growing. I feel it. I see it. I needed this.

-ka

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I’m in love and I have writer’s block. Which is strange because I’m feeling so much. But I’m not questioning anything I’m feeling. It all makes sense in one way or another. This man just makes things so simple and easy. It’s truthfully a beautiful thing that I am so thankful for.

-ka

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Updated Masterpost (1/16/2020)

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If you want to be tagged in any of my fics CLICK HERE

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Stories I no longer have interest in but you can still read

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Stories I will finish but aren’t that important to me so therefore updates will be SLOW

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Fics Coming in 2020!

  • Doll House (REVISED VERSION) (Chadwick, Trevante. Lakeith Stanfield)
  • Her. (Trevante)
  • Candy(Chadwick)
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Head Canons:

One Shots:

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Stories that are completely done! No holds, no progressing works, just absolutely finished!

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For anyone who’s interested

On this blog I’ve been writing a series of personal narratives that describe past moments in my life with different guys. Each of these moments have all made me realize something about myself. The way I carry the woman that is me is made up of all these stories. I appreciate everyone who has read the few I’ve written so far and given me feedback.

If you want to read the series, search the tag ‘men series’ on my blog. If it moves you, send me a message and tell me why.

Thanks again to everyone who supports me by reading this blog. I just want to share my truth in a way that feels safe to do so. It’s odd that tumblr serves as that place, but I’m okay with it.

*also please reblog my things. Still tryna get my follower count up :)

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If you so happen to love any of the following please leave me an Ask to be on the tag list. I have a lot of content coming in 2020!!!

  • Florian Munteanu/Viktor Drago
  • Chris Hemsworth/Thor Odinson/Billy Lee
  • Diggy Simmons
  • Erik Stevens/Killmonger
  • Trevante Rhodes
  • Trey Songz
  • Teyana Taylor
  • Tanerelle
  • Zayn
  • Steve Rodgers
  • Brad Pitt
  • Henry Cavill/ Geralt of Rivia
  • Keanu Reeves/John Wick

And many many more! ALL FOR BLACK READERS ONLY TOO!

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Just lettting my thoughts about Florian wonder, Don’t mind me ….

  • Flo has been gone away from you for too long. Well it was only a month but you’d missed him more than you’d ever missed anybody in your life.
  • You missed the way his body overshadowed yours. The smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses. His fingers massaging your scalp. The way his lips and beard tickled the skin of your neck when he leaned down to kiss the skin beneath your ear from behind.
  • Fuck, you missed the way his large hands gripped your body as he put you in your position as he pounded into you. The way his fingers would be stuffed in your mouth as your eyes rolled to be back of your skull.
  • You were getting hot just thinking about it as you stood in the airport waiting for his flight to arrive.
  • Finally the flight from Munich had arrived and your body began to buzz with excitement.
  • It was another twenty minutes before you saw people emerging from baggage claim. It was easy to spot him.
  • His figure towered over the majority of the people coming out. He was dressed in a grey tracksuit with white sneakers. Such a simple look but it got her so worked up, you were ready to drop to your knees for this man.
  • Baby!” You yelled as you ran towards him. His head shot up with an immediate grin drawing on his face.
  • The kiss was as instant as you jumping into his arms. You held his cheeks as you deepened the kiss. Florian groaned against the softness of her plump lips as his hands grabbed your ass and squeezed. Not a care in the world who saw.
  • You giggled against his lips as the kiss slowed down. “I missed you so fucking much.” You mumbled against his lips.
  • I missed you too baby.” He mumbled as he tried to put you down but you tighted your grip around him which caused him to chuckle. “You don’t want to let go?
  • You shook your head and pouted your lips before placing your head on his shoulder. Florian shook his head with a little smirk playing on his lips at how clingy you were being.
  • One hand on the handle of his suitcase and the other on your back as he walked towards the exit of the airport. You weren’t talking, just enjoying being in his arms once again.
  • You leaned up and placed kisses along his beared jawline. “Next time you leave, take me with you. I don’t wanna be apart from you ever again.”
  • You missed me that much huh?
  • Mhm.”
  • Are you going to show me how much you missed me?” Florian raised his eyebrow as he looked down at you.
  • You looked up at him with eyes full of lust and promise. “I intend to do so for the rest of the day and night. So I hope you got enough rest on that flight big boy.”
  • 🥵🥵🥵 okay i’m feeling a little better now. I can go to sleep lol.



Should I do more of these type of posts? Let me know 🥺.

@honeychicana @themyscxiras @crushed-pink-petals @fumbling-fanfics @write-fromthe-start @melinda-january @royallyprincesslilly @gwenspacy @chrisgalore @iwrite4poc @minton131 @designerwriterchic @felicity-x0 @blackmissfrizzle

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Food4Thot: idk what I’m doing with my music tbh

Self awareness of one’s self is cool from a constructive POV

Though, it often makes it hard to enjoy one’s own creative work since in order to deconstruct you ego for an audience, you have to reach into the depths of your soul where you see blatant faults that you have to some how justify in order for people to give you a chance at growth with your work. Which requires a lotta vulnerability, only for label exec’s//white audiences who see black art as trauma porn to exploit and control the narrative you’re trying to make of your own volition.

But hey, art4art’s sake, right?

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I recently realized that if men don’t have a romantic interest in you, you can’t expect them to give a damn, as a friend.

But yo, please prove me wrong. 

Like. Is it extremely unrealistic and selfish of me to want someone to listen to me when I have things on my mind?

To pay attention to what I’m saying if we are on the phone instead of look and scroll through everything else on your screen?

Because to be honest, it hurts my feelings when you ask me what’s on my mind, and I tell you, but halfway through you’ve fallen asleep. Because lately I have A LOT on my mind. It’s actually BACKED UP because the only ones who ever gave me their full attention and response just so happened to be physically or romantically involved with me at the time, so now as a single person I’m always talking to my damn self other than my therapist every week. Because if you call me on the phone I’m assuming its because you wanted to talk to me. Because when we had that very intense conversation about me not wanting you in a romantic way, you chose to keep talking to me as a friend. And I’m thinking that’s real. Because out of every person close to you, you called me and sent me into an emotional frenzy after telling me you had overdosed on pills. You made me feel like a damn fool when those cops showed up and you acted like nothing was wrong. You’re always leaning on me for shit and I’m always here for you but you can’t even return the favor by simply paying attention to me when I’m talking to you.

I sometimes feel like I am going crazy because I don’t have a tribe, or even a single person here that I can really relate to, or just be comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. And I know this is rare. So am I a naive sap because those are the only kinds of friendships I want? Like, what is it? What am I doing wrong that I can only find strangers on the internet to have honest conversations with?

There are so many people I want to pick up the phone and call to hear their voice. People I want to meet up with so I can see their face. As we discuss life and the things we don’t understand. It seems like this can only happen with platonic friends every blue moon, in catch up conversations. 

This is something I crave multiple times a week.

But I guess people aren’t willing to give that unless they’re in a relationship with you.

Is it me?

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What you think isn’t known

For nothing in life is certain.

It is disguised in lessons,

trial and error, bonds broken and made anew.

Both formidable and grotesque;

It is the best way of Life…

…even though surprises are unwonted,

The satisfaction gained is priceless.

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Been thinking of relocating to a new city, closer to home. But I can’t help but wonder if it would be good for me, or a new level of anxiety because I don’t know anyone there and apparently have a hard time making new friends in my adult life.

Yes I may finally be able to get my own place but what would fill my life other than work and trying to get gigs? Would I hang around whoever I met, desperate and assuming I won’t find anyone else I click with? And who might the first set of people be? Would they be good people? Or people who I see as ‘good enough’ to be with just so I can say I don’t spend all my days alone?

Is this even a valid fear? Am I overthinking it or should I take my social anxiety into consideration and maybe find a place where I know someone on a personal level? I want to change so bad. I want to be more social. I wanna go out and actively make friends instead of waiting for someone to eventually gravitate towards me. I want to date. I really want to date. I want to find a man who is interested in me as a person, who respects my virginity instead of running from me because of it. I just want someone to take the time and build a real connection but sex is such a driving force I feel like I’ll just have to settle one day. But damn, I know I deserve much more than that.

Leave it to me to try and plan a new life chapter and only think of the things that could go wrong about it, rather than the excitement, growth and new blessings that come with it.

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