Friday, October 19, 2012


Image from here 

It looks hard. It’s enough to repel most people, enough to make them give me what I want… distance. The few who try to step close, they get to a point, always a point, where they stop, give one last look and turn away. Always a point where they give up. Distance. What I’ve always wanted.

It’s fragile. I saw you and I knew. Your set jaw, your unrelenting eyes, that undefinable something, they told me you would be Trouble. I’ve had Trouble before, but even it leaves me alone. Eventually. So I watch with my smile mask on, awaiting your retreat; my victory. Waiting for distance.

What I always used to want...

Now I sit alone on the floor, holding it in a shaky hand. I try a soft cloth first. Wipe, wipe, wipe. I try a little spit, and I wipe. I dip my cloth in warm soapy water. Then vinegar. I spray on some Windolene. They won’t go away. Next, scouring powder. Then a metal sponge. It’s covered in scratches when I’m done. But, beneath the scratches, they haven’t gone away.

I realise what I must do. I stand, raise it over my head, slam it into the ground, shattering it into a million tiny pieces. The wall holds me, and I slide down until my knees hit the ground. When my tears stop blinding me, I will gather the pieces together and build me a new, touch-proof, heart.

But how dare you leave your fingerprints all over my heart of glass? And how, after everything, how dare you leave?


On the side...

Crazy schedule at school... so much to read. I feel like I need more hours in my day. But I said, "Uche, you must post something today!" So I wrote "Heart of Glass" a few minutes ago. (If you think it's rough - and it is - that's my excuse.)

I'm starting to think that I'd like to make this blog more personal (a bit more truth with the fiction), so the tone will change a bit, if I get it right. So when I do write fiction (as this post is), it might come with little notes on what inspired it, how it relates to me maybe, and other stuff that might not necessarily interest you

For this one, I think I was thinking of how some people think I'm a hard person to know. And they're probably right. I don't say much, don't give much away; and it usually takes a long time for me to get comfortable with people. Some of this is probably deliberate on my part. But mostly, it's just how I am and I can't help it. Sometimes I'd rather be different, but... I've never been good at acting. Now I'm taking small, deliberate steps to be more open. Work in progress

Anyway, I think that, however we may look or seem from the outside, most people want to be loved (romance aside). I think that people want to share of themselves, but for some reason(s) will not. Maybe cannot? Sometimes it's because they've been hurt. Sometimes maybe they just don't know how?

Okay, I'm stopping now. This "note" is now longer than the main story. 

Till next week, hopefully. And thanks for reading.

Friday, October 5, 2012


I really don't have any writing to post today, so I'm just going to cop out and post pictures.

Part of the things I determined to do coming to Manchester was travel; see as much of the UK as I possibly can, time and money duly considered. Last Saturday my hall organized a highly subsidized trip to York. I went, and I got pictures.

Some street with an obelisk
Clifford's Tower
Inside Clifford's Tower
View from top of the tower
This street was crowded because of the Food and Drinks Festival that was in town on that day.
Street performers
Random sign (thought it would be artistic)
York is a confluence town (I think). Parts of it got flooded due to heavy rains this year.
This river overflowed
They also thought this was worth capturing. See how far into the street the water is?