did i ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

love you at ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the wrong time, ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

or did i just ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

not love you ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

enough?

i could’ve sworn

we were happy

together.

what happened?

were we no longer

happy together,

or did the world

just decide that

our happiness

no longer

mattered?

no, i know

we were happy

together.

i know because

i loved you more

than life itself,

and so did you.

then why

was the world

so against

us

being together?

i don’t

believe in fate.

the choices i make

reflect the life

i lead,

not some supernatural

phenomenon.

but maybe,

just maybe,

if i had

believed in fate,

we would’ve

still been able

to have

our happy ever after.

I am working full time rn and I hate it. I don't have time to write anymore right now and I wanna work on my bookssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!! So I will try to write the Prologue to Enchantress this weekend or one of my days off. Same for Lost. If you wanna edit, comment below or message me!

Let me know if you want me to post a sneak peek of either too.

Me: Damn, I’m so stressed out about my upcoming finals

Some ‘adult’ I was really banking on for motivational talk: Just word hard, that’s it.

Like come on dude, you mean I’m not already working hard enough? Like I’m not already busting my head, going sleepless for this shit? What is hard work anyway? Does it have some kind of quality or even better, quantity? Is it a hundred sleepless nights? Gallons of strong coffee amidst a painful process of turning into a zombie? Gigantic all-inclusive textbooks? Death by book? Come on you’ve got to give me more than that or better still,

don’t say that piece of crap to me.

Or best still, smile and nod your head sympathetically so I know you got nothing. work hard? dude don't piss me off.

5/31: x days before you leave

I feel it coming like a bad heartbeat

and wonder if there will be an after:

how I’ll remake myself and continue past

the moment, if I can fix my own devastation.

Is it possible to live undevastated

with your absence? I don’t want to be your trail

but I can’t forget you either. No joy now.

We carry traces of each other like snow.

You’ve shaken yours off, somewhere, in summer.

I wrap mine around me for a cloak.

Everything I write contains you. I build boxes

to save you. And still I am the one stuck

inside them, clawing at walls. I could yell

get out of me but truthfully I like the haunting,

how your memories call to me when I’m lonely

and I sponge them up with my whole body.

I imagine what you’d say to me. Get over it.

Who cares. We didn’t mean anything.

But everything with you felt like the good ending,

finally living the life you’re meant to be from. Now

I can never write past the middle, and that’s what scares me most—

I don’t know what you’re doing when you’re gone.

I’m not going to say I tried.

I lied.

I tried.

Over and over I tried.

I never wanted anything but to know you,

But you insisted I show you,

And once you saw the depth you dove,

And your fate was sealed closed.

Like ice that’s formed over a lake

Without the wind the water won’t shake

Protected yet blocked I can see you through the glass.

Swimming deeper and deeper,

Until you breath doesn’t last.

And then you want to blame me for jumping to save you.

For spending the time to dig up your grave,

You want to throw all the dirt in my face,

The way that me saving you was a disgrace.

You know that it was you who used me to death;

you used me as air and I was your breath.

Pushed yourself away and blamed me for the fall.

There wasn’t time to take a gasp at all.

Right now you are nothing but a figment of my imagination waiting like a dream to come true to be in my arms looking in my eyes as I look back into yours. Let me tell you this world is cold you try to find a way to survive until you grow old. Elderly weary of things this life will put you through but trust me baby girl you are a gem a Queen you have something in you no one else has. They have something similar but yours was made just for you. I’m talking about your heart it may just be a beat for now waiting to be heard on that ultra sound but it’s there. For now you dance in heaven watching over me and your mother holding Gods right hand. Already you protect me from harm and danger so one day we can meet. I know you are ready to be here by my side but don’t rush it God will send you when it is time. When you come let no man tell you you can’t be great dont let any man tell you it’s ever to late to be more that this world wants you to be. Just know that I want you to see everything you can see and everything you will be. But right now I’m just me your protector your guide, your friend until we meet keep me safe. I look forward to meeting you in time to come if it doesn’t happen when I want whisper in Gods ear that I want his will to be done

These little moments I'll cherish forever.

His little ear on my chest

Like he's listening to my heart.

His little mouth opens wide as he yawns.

He snuggles up to me

His breathing gets quiet

The smallest snores are music to my ears.

There's nowhere else I'd rather be

These little moments I'll cherish forever.

I realized I was a writer when I was a senior in high school. I'm 43 now, and am just now taking it seriously. I could never find the courage to even try because I was afraid of rejection. It wasn't until last year that I realized I needed to be writing for me. While we all love to hear positive feedback on our creations, that should not be your focus. Your writing is a part of you, who you are. You should be writing for you, and you alone. Who cares what other people think? Find your courage!

And then he finishes pumping and he climbs off my tired body and I welcome the release of his weight from on top of me. He is heavy, strong and very heavy. He scrambles for something on the headboard and after a few seconds lights a cigarette. The first thing that comes to my mind is "My dear God, what did i get myself into???” Many other questions run through my mind as he continues smoking his cigarette in silence. Then he whispers something which i don't catch. I ask him to come again and again he whispers an inaudible something. I don't answer. The silence stretches on a little longer and he puts out the cigarettes turns to his side and looks into my eyes. I feel his stare pierce deep into my soul in darkness and I wonder how his face is looking right now, probably smiling I guess, he loves to smile at me and only me. I stare back at him in the same darkness, he doesn’t know it but I really want to talk about it but as a good wife, I will wait for him to bring it up…. Slowly he puts his hand on my hip, I feel his touch, a slow, yet tender caress, and then as if massaging my hip, he moves to my waist and firmly pulls me closer to him. I hate his cigarette polluted breath but I love his complex mind, so I tolerate the stench of his breath.

“Are you happy???” He says.

Am I happy??? I repeat the question to myself. Am I happy, am I happy… The question begins to duplicate itself out of control. Am I happy???

“Babe are you sleeping???” He asks as he kisses my closed lips. I don’t kiss him back not because I don’t want too but because the question is out of control in my mind. How can someone ask me such a serious and important question in a very short phrase?

“Babe” he says it louder this time and my mind aborts the question

“Sthandwa” I answer

“Why are you not talking to me” He asks again

“Because you are asking me something very important- primitive idiot”. I don’t answer

“Why are you on mute??” He persists

“I’m catching my breathe, sorry Hun” I massage his ego, throwing him off my sneaky trail and like a dog to a bone, he goes for it

“Catching your breathe huh???” He chuckles

“That was intense”, I tell him the truth, without any lies

“So you mean you are happy???” He says it with a smile; I feel it in his voice

I get off the bed silently and I know his eyes are trying to follow me in the total darkness. Is happiness defined by multiple sexual orgasms, I ask myself. Again the question regenerates itself out of control inside my psyche.

“Is something wrong” He asks

His voice finds me near the light bulb switch and instead of answering, I flick the switch on and I’m met by anger all around his ugly yet sweet face, he tries to smile and then I see that it’s not anger, its actually true and genuine concern, I discover. I try to smile at him and I see his smile disappear, he sits up and clears his voice

What’s wrong mama???” genuinely again.

I open the door and close it behind me and walk to the loo. All along the way to the toilet, I am asking myself the same question. What does good sex have to do with happiness? Are sex and happiness interlinked? After a few hundred times meditating on this particular concept of life I am brought back to reality by the sound of the toilet flashing. I panic as I discover that I have been literally on auto-pilot the whole time that I am not even sure whether I took a piss or shit. I really need help. My mind is now unable to multitask or I am unhappy. Depression or psychological breakdown, I self-diagnose myself and the ripple effect begins again as I walk back to the bedroom.

Depression or psychological breakdown.

Depression or psychological breakdown.

Depression or psychological breakdown.

“Can you put the light back on please, we really have to talk” He brings me back to reality.

I put on the light and find him with a smoke in hand and concern on his face. Should I tell him about my mind? I ask myself and before it happens again, I nod and he moves higher, sitting up straighter and I recognize what he is doing and I go and sit on the bed near him. He smiles and I smile, for the first time in our marriage we sync in nonverbal communication. He moved, I went and sat. Perfect marriage.

“Did you even hear what I said?” He resuscitates me again

Shit. As I was busy with my nonverbal analysis. He had said something and I didn’t catch it. This head of mine needs a new mind I say to myself seeing his lips move but I don’t hear anything. My head needs a new mind, my head need a new mind, my head needs a new mind. The expression turns into a nursery rhyme. I am out of control I know but there is nothing I can do except that my head wants a new mind. He shacks me back to life, I feel mucus and salt in my saliva, I can’t breathe properly, palpitations.

“I thought you were having a seizure” He is panicking too.

He gets off the bed and stands me up and crushes me into his chest. The hug is so tight, he means it. I hear his fast paced heartbeat in my ears as he squeezes my head tighter into his chest. I listen to the rhythm it makes. I begin to feel my own beat syncing with his, I pull away and go to the mirror, I look at myself, tears and mucus, I am a mess. I take my towel from the wire cutting across the room to hang the mosquito net from and go back to clean myself, after a minute, I try a smile and I am glad I look better and go back to him and open his arms and literally force myself back into that tight uncomfortable embrace only to be met head-on by a faster heart rhythm. I listen to its distorted dual-like bum-bum sound and my heart immediately joins into the rushed pace. I feel the hair at the back of my hair start to rise; tiny minute electric shocks erupt from the rising hair at the back of my neck and quickly spread out throughout my scalp and my heart races faster than his. I again force him to hold me tighter, he responds and take a deeper breathe and my heart accelerates further. Then the electronic shocks start from just under my ankles and rise slowly and stingingly erotic to the back of my knees then to the base of my thighs, I kiss him passionately and I lose control again. I push him to the bed and climb on top of him the shock goes straight to my nipples and spread to my areola then rush down the back of my spine, distributing to my stomach and meeting up at my center and I feel I am ready and I take him. I look into his eyes and see some confusion mingled with surprise and disbelief and I feel deep down inside of me pitying him. I ride him to a certain place secluded from happiness and sadness and I feel him arrive, I join him but I don’t let him go. I bite and ride him until I feel him respond again and I erupt again, leaving him all the hard work for I know he has to get there himself from here onward, I am truthfully tired holding his hand all the time.

And then he finishes pumping and he climbs off my tired body and I welcome the release of his weight from on top of me. He is heavy, strong and very heavy. He scrambles for his cigarette and lights it. He takes a long heavy drag and exhales after a few seconds and he looks sideways into my eyes. The light is on this time. He sees my soul this time. Then speaks and I hear him this time. I am in control again.

“You need to talk to me, now” He demands taking another puff.

“I don’t know what to say” I truthfully answer

“We have been married three days, I know, but are you a sex addict?” He smokes again

“Truthfully, I think it’s far worse than that” I answer boldly

He gets off the bed takes one last pull putting on his boxers and looks at me

“Explain please”

“I love my husband’s communication skills” I start to think and the thought begins to...

“Talk to me gaddamit” He shouts me to life

“I think I am crazy, like psychologically unstable, my mind can’t shift from thought to thought it just keeps focusing on the same thing over and over and over and over…. I just want a new mind”

He stands still looking at me, I can’t see his soul, and he is too far. Then my heart starts its own rhythm, slowly at first then a rush pace. The hair at the back of my neck stands and the sensations start…

“Maybe I am a sex addict too I was after all a virgin four days ago” I say with a wet groin and tears on my face.

THE END

TITLE INSIDE MY HEAD

GENRE CLEAN EROTICA

AGE RANGE 18+

WORD COUNT 1640

NAME OF AUTHOR XOLILE JOHNSON

JUSTIFICATION Clean erotica is engaging and not easy to

put down

THE HOOK Care to step into an introverts mind?

SYNOPSIS

Aimed at demystifying sex and sexual mysteries, Inside my mind is a story about self discovery. The story is about a young woman with a troubled mind, who tries her best to rediscover herself. Written in the first personna, the story takes the reader on a truthful and intimate jounery as she tries her best to change from being a virgin to a wife. he own intra-conflicts makes the transition more difficult than it should be.

TARGET AUDIENCE Adult Females (&Males)

BIO

I am a creative writing student at the College of Creative Arts - Africa, specializing in sceen and stage plays. Short story writing is an intense passion that drives my everday life. I am still at collegfe therefore my biography isnt extentensive but i am learning trhe art of storytelling and hope to grow quickly in the field.

EDUCATION COLLEGE STUDENT

EXPERIENCE NOVICE

STYLE PSYCHO-ANALITICAL FICTION

HOBBIES READING AND WRITING, CHESS,

MOVIES

HOMETOWN BULAWAYO, ZIMBABWE

AGE 23