As much as the society worships you. You are full of shit. Honestly, what makes you think you’re better than the rest. Just because you have a penis? You can’t even say the word out loud in public.

Haven’t you realised any thing? Haven’t you learnt that you’re not the only ones here.

Do you even read the news?

Wait… do you even read?

Other men, I’m not addressing the whole of your sex. I’m talking about “some” of the men. The some who think molesting a female is powerful. Who even thought you what power is. Your father beat you and your mother up. You need to take that event from your past and make sure you are not your father.

Instead, you rape another woman. You rape her just like the way your father raped your mother and other women.

Pardon my frankness. But, your kind hasn’t been in the best of terms to women, children.. Even animals.

Look, I’m not saying you’re the cause for destruction. I’m just saying the world wouldn’t be that bad a place without you in it.

Some men should leave.

Men should be taught that hurting a woman, is similar to hurting your mother.

I’m sure you know where this is heading at.

Would you beat your mother up?

Would you verbally abuse your mother?

Would you mentally abuse your mother?

Would you treat her like a maid?

But most of all,

Would you rape your mother, son?


Writing for dorks.

#1. Life Hecks for fellow writers.

I recently read on how to get famous if you’re a writer or you want to get famous for your writing. These days everyone wants to get famous, we have our resources like our beloved apps, Snapchat, Instagram, Musically, Facebook, and you get the idea. Trust me, throw a filter on it and you’re ready to start your publicity. Anyway, for writers. There’s plenty of room for those pens and pages, either you’re trying to get back at your ex or you’re trying to get at your parents (oh, these sad, sob stories of rough childhood does influence the pennies). Perhaps you found a bunch of old journals and want to be the next Ann Frank. Even if you didn’t go camping as a kid.

Anything can happen and it will, what matters is the perspective, the way you want to look at it. Either in a good way or a bad way or even in a way Rumplestiltskin cannot unknot.

However, with all seeing and no socializing. You will go nowhere. Believe me, I know. Take a look at this blog. It’s like the graveyard of dreams for all writers, ironically, Writers don’t dream, they write.

So, if you really want to write, you will. If you don’t, you read. And there is nothing wrong in that. It’s thanks to you writers get the pennies for their pages.

Just do it. Also, Nike, if you do come across this blog post, do sponsor. Thank you very much. P.S. I bought a pair of white socks just last week from you. Very nice cotton ones.

Do not worry, I will write more about this. Just don’t expect it anytime soon.




RIP Rip.

On hearing the news of the death of Tim Bergling, who is better known as AVICII was quite a shock, his death not him dying. The first time I heard his song, “Wake me up” was at my uncle’s place. It got me hooked, no I wasn’t a huge fan, I enjoyed his music when it played on the radio. Because back in my day, not all the kids were pampered enough to own mobile phones and bob their head to the music, we listened to the radio on the school bus like real MVPs.

The second time I came across him was when I met my friend’s crush. He made most of the kids at school call him Avi, since calling him Avicii out loud is fake and apparently made him look bad. So, Avi influenced my friend so much that she started to draw Avicii’s logo every fucking where, on her hands, her feet, my hands, her neck, her notebook, her brother’s notebook, her school tie. I’m grateful she didn’t do it on her socks. Pretty sure she tried… but let’s give her the benefit of doubt.

It was a tough phase for us, her and I. While she was drawing her crush away, I was trying to wash the ink off my hand.

I’m sure there are kids who mourn his loss, but not as much as the late 90s kids. This one is for all those kids who found meaning and comfort in his music, who made friends, made memories, made enemies but most made playlists.

RIP Tim Bergling.

Thanks for waking up half the youth with your music.


Yolo!Yoyo? Hello.

Welcome to Life Hecks,

I mean, Hacks. Well, it’s the same. Hecks and Hacks, either way, you’re learning. Or are you? This isn’t one of those life-skills blogs, where I show you the meaning of life or what drives you purpose, Heck No. I still haven’t found what drives my purpose, leave that, I still can’t drive anything.

So, this right here is the key to your gold, Err… no, This is your golden key. And if you do have a key to your gold, that’s great. My email address is in my bio, please feel free to contact me (plis, education is a must, but monies are life) JK, Ok.

Nothing inspired me to start this, but the dying urge to see my mankind flourish and grow, and to understand how annoying it is to disturb someone who’s on their eyephones or reading a book, or eating, Especially eating.

This will be a series, a series of misfortunate events or just events, I mean, come on. No one is that lucky in a row. There will be brutal truths on topics that aren’t universally acclaimed, that are not acclaimed at all.

However for this to happen, I need Y’all, Oh dear readers to interact. And no, I don’t mean hang out or go for coffee, Nah. I mean, leave a question or a topic that you want to address in the comment section. And will try my best, honestly, I will write about it.

I know, you must be thinking, there is always a catch, I knew it, sooner or later, she’d be like, leave a comment, share this if you liked it, or even worse, follow me. Well, what can I say, wait I can and that is, “Follow me if you have the void in you and that nothing can ever fill it and if your parents favour your sibling most (if you are a single child, then sucks to be you, sorry JK again, but I’m sure it does get a bit lonely so follow me).


Best Wishes Always, (And if it’s your  birthday, Lucky you)




Poe’s Poem.

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thoughtThan to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,

In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know by the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thoughtThan to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Annabel Lee—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen cameAnd bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the seaCan ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Honestly, I’m here for the love and the water.

Universe and Me.

I had my physics exam today, it wasn’t the core of the subject just the cosmology part of it. Very general and brief. Made me feel like my entire life as an Arts student was a regretful lie.

Hello Non-Science students, I want to have a word with you. I’m certain after your schooling you happily discarded your science subjects. But later on, eventually it caught up with you, either in the form of a crash course or a credit course. I was a refugee of the latter.

During that time, attending those classes, making notes, calculating, you finally made sense of adding 2+2, you are ready to build a rocket within a rocket. You are feeling so fly, you are the rocket. Please tell me that I was not the only one experiencing this metamorphic change.

And then, the realisation of your destiny hits you. A second of epiphany strikes you. You are feeling energetic. You got all the power in the universe.

Oh wait, there’s more. You’re not quite finished. You are feeling smart. And then, you realise your mistake of taking the humanities or a commerce stream. You feel so weak and dull, you wish to be sucked into a black hole. Your hopes of discovering a planet or a galaxy. Or even another Cosmo is dead.

You feel so sad. So sad. And if you listened closely you could have heard Adele singing in the background. The clouds have gathered and discussed your wrong choice. The fault in your stars, indeed.

But then, reality hits you when you’re asked to calculate the light years from the sun to the earth while calculating the precise moment of a flock of ducks crossing the Abbey Road and counting the number of hits the Beatles had got that year.


You shake the pseudo passion for science off and you make a strawberry or whatever milkshake or drink water and let the waves of the radiations pass through you and relax your atoms.


P.S. I was never really interested in Physics until my husband sat me down and explained how everything works. Straight from the Big bang to the string theory and why we still haven’t figured how to travel in time (yet). If it weren’t for him that ignited the flame in me, just like the core of a star, I doubt I would ever write down what I felt.

Read below.

I’m laughing on the outside and crying on the inside.

When I heard this song for the first time, thanks to the comic series and now a television series, “The end of the f**king world”. We sure can trust the British to come up with something dark and funny. Always trust them.

Anyway, back to my song, I mean Carroll’s song. A lot of thoughts and questions came to my mind, like a pack of wolves, I mean aren’t we kids blessed with acceleratory skills of questioning. It was pretty simple, Why did she sing that and how did she sing it that beautifully…

What hurt her to write this, or rather what did not? Well, there has to be something, old people had a love that was enduring and everlasting until their lover boy was sent to fight in the war, yes. Everlasting, indeed.

So, Bernadette Carroll, I’m certain you felt a love that was taken away from you. My condolence is with you. Also, the series is brilliant, I haven’t watched the Netflix series but I read the comic a while ago, and it was hilarious not in a funny way. Most things are funny because its true and not because if there is any humour in it.

I found a love that’s enduring, like an old record player. It’s real and simple. Just like what Love should be. Love these days are very subtle, it’s there no doubt but not there at the same time. In our present age, I cannot find the love. I mean, is YOLO it? is love really on fleek, can love whip it? Our parents should whip us.

Oh please, my millennial folks, I am not calling you out nor am I victimizing you. I’m just typing and praying that this will not take me to jail someday. I will write more about my love in the next following posts, and no this won’t be a series, don’t panic.