Femi when are you getting married?
Femi I don’t want an Oyibo man oo. Femi, are you listening to me?
and increased her pace. She thought maybe if she ran faster, she could banish
her mother’s voice from her mind. She huffed and puffed. She knew she should
stop; for one thing, it was 9 in the night and her David would be worried; for
another, her thigh muscles were really cramping up.
back and began the 10-minute race back to her apartment. The lights were on.
David, She thought with an inward groan. She
didn’t feel like seeing him, he always knew when something was wrong with her, and
she wasn’t ready to talk about it. He must have used his emergency key when she
didn’t show up for their 4 0’clock date. He probably thought she was lying on
the floor, half dead. He was such a worry wart.
with her hand on the door knob to compose herself. Her heart was still racing
from the exercise, and she could just make out David’s shadow as he paced the
length of the small living room.
As soon as
the door knob turned, he was in front of her in a flash
you been Femi? I’ve been worried sick-‘
always worrying, that’s not News’
have a date, you don’t show up, you don’t call and I’m not supposed to worry? I
CALLED YOU A THOUSAND TIMES!’
her footsteps and continued ‘I called your work, I called your Bible study
group, I called your friends! did anyone know where you were? No! Did you
bother to call and let anyone know where you were? Of course not, why should
you? Let’s just give David a heart attack at 28, why don’t we? I came over here
and rang the doorbell for AGES-‘
around and held her hands up for peace. His hair was in spikes, he’d obviously
run his hands through it severally. His forehead was corrugated; his green
eyes, stormy, and his cheeks were flushed from either worry or temper, or both.
Her lips twitched in spite of her gloomy mood.
said ‘I’m tired and sweaty-‘
and annoying, and-‘
around and continued walking ‘Look’ She said again ‘I’m going to take a shower,
okay? I’m sorry I got you worried, but I really need a shower’
into the bathroom
Femi, I’m not done yelling at you-‘
continue when I get out’ she shut the door in his face and he heaved a sigh.
He knew she
would stay in there for another 30 minutes, and his feelings would have
dissipated when she showed up again. She knew what she was doing, alright.
against the door and decided to take a bath instead of a shower, and let her
mind wander to the first time she met David.
She was new at the church, having just moved
to Canada from Nigeria for her Masters program. She didn’t know anyone but she
liked the church because the people were kind and the preacher spoke like he
was talking to her. Church had closed and she was just walking out when a
really tall guy walked up in front of her
‘Hey! I haven’t seen you before,
you’re new, right?’
She looked up, smiled shyly and
‘I thought so. I’m not bragging but I
know everyone here’ he said with a smile and a twinkle in his eye. She was
‘I’m David’ he said, thrusting a big
hand in her face. ‘David Harvey’
‘Nice to meet you David’ She adjusted
her books and placed her hand in his. His hand dwarfed hers instantly. His eyes
flashed to hers, dancing with humour.
‘I was going to say something about your
size, but we only just met’
Her mouth opened in mock surprise
‘You were going to call me small, weren’t you?’
He grinned hugely ‘I was leaning more
toward little, but yeah’
‘What!’ She drew herself to her full
height ‘I am a whopping 5 foot 4!’
‘Yes, yes, you look very
intimidating, your size scares me’ he said.
‘It’s only because you’re so huge.
I’m not that small’
‘Yeah, sure, what’s your name, you
She laughed loudly ‘It’s Femi’
‘Femi. Hmmn. Where are you from,
Just then, her phone shrieked out a
Casting Crowns song, interrupting them.
‘Um...my phone is ringing’ she said
‘Yes, Femi, I can hear it too’ he
‘Um...I need my hand to answer it’
He looked down, only just realizing
he still held her hand He dropped it hastily and flushed. It was amazing to
her, the flushing. She had only read about that in books and seen it in movies.
It supposedly signified embarrassment. She stared for a second longer than
‘Here, let me hold those for you’ he
said, reaching for her books.
‘Thanks’ she said, dug around in her
bag, found her phone ‘Oh, it’s my mum. I have to take this or she won’t stop
calling. I’ll be right back’
‘No worries, take your time’ he was
still red in the face.
‘So. Casting Crowns, huh’ he said
when she came back.
‘Yeah’ she smiled. ‘They’re my
favourite band. I hope to see them in concert someday. Listen I have to go. My
mum says the whole family is waiting for me on Skype’
‘Oh. Oh yeah, sure, sorry. Um, do you
need me to take these to your car or something?’
‘No, I don’t have a car. Don’t worry,
it’s cool, I’ve been carrying my books around for ages. Thanks, anyway.’
‘Yeah. It was nice to meet you, Femi’
‘You, as well’ she turned and walked
She was almost at the door when he
yelled ‘So you’re coming next Sunday right?’
She turned. A couple of people were
staring. He seemed to notice to because he stuck his hands in his pockets and
lifted his shoulders.
That was how it began.
Days slithered into weeks and weeks
into months. He called her and texted her a lot. She thought about him a lot, too much for comfort.
She went to church every week. Joined
the youth Bible study group and made a few friends. She and David talked
regularly and hung out with other youths from their church. Sometimes they went
to the beach, sometimes they rented vans and took road trips.
Then one Sunday after church, he
approached her outside.
‘Hey David, what’s up’
He stared at her a moment longer than
necessary. ‘Are you alright? You look a little tired’
‘Oh. Yeah i was up late last night;
I’ve got a test on Wednesday’
‘Your nose is always stuck in a book.
Ugh, I hate tests’
She laughed. ‘You’re not even the one
‘Right. Anyway I got you a present’
A wary look came into her eyes ‘What
He laughed. ‘I said, a present, why
do you look so scared, don’t you like presents?’
‘Not really. I don’t know what to
expect, and I’m not that good at hiding my feelings. What if I don’t like it?’
He waved that away, with confidence
‘Don’t worry. Bet you’d like this one’ he handed it to her.
It was a brown envelope. She opened
it, looked inside and just stared.
‘David...’ she croaked. She cleared
her throat and tried again ‘David...’
He was looking down at her, amused.
‘There are tickets in here, David’
‘I know, I put them there’ he said
with exaggerated patience.
‘David, there are tickets in here.
Tickets, Casting Crown tickets’ she looked up again, worried he didn’t
‘I know, Femi’
‘You got me tickets to see Casting
Crowns?’ Both of them were alarmed when her eyes suddenly filled up
‘Woah...woah, what’s happening’ he
‘No, I’m sorry, I thought you wanted
‘No I do, I do. I’m not really
crying, It’s...it’s just the sun’
‘It’s the middle of winter, Femi’
‘Fine, whatever. I’m crying’ she
dashed the traitorous tears off her cheeks in anger.
‘Why did you get me
‘Because you said they were your
favourite band!’ he was confused by her reaction
‘When did I say that to you?’
‘The first time we met, remember?
Your ringtone was one of their songs. It was Courageous’
There was a pause. A line formed
between her brows. ‘You...you remembered that? I only said it in passing’
‘I remember everything about you,
Femi’ he said with a shrug. His eyes widened when her eyes filled again ‘Don’t
start crying again, please’ he begged
‘I won’t. I don’t cry. I’m going home
before I embarrass myself further’ she sighed, and then looked up at him again.
‘You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you so much for this. Will you
lean down a little so I can kiss your cheek’?
‘Oh’ He leaned down, and she gave him
a quick hug and kissed his cheek.
‘Thank you so much’ she said again
‘You’re welcome’ His face was red
‘Wait...there are two tickets in
‘Yeah, i thought maybe you wouldn’t
want to go alone and you might want to take one of your friends.’
‘I feel my eyes filling again. I’m
just gonna go, okay? See you later, David’
That was the moment she fell in love
with him. She thought about him all the way home. It wasn’t her fault. How
could a person not fall in love with him? He was the nicest, most selfless,
God-loving guy she had ever met. And he listened. And why was he so tall? He
was her first everything. Her first real friend, he took her to her first
riding lesson, he took her to her first swimming lesson, he was the first
person who really listened when she talked. And he had kind eyes. You could
tell a lot about a person by just looking in their eyes.
She thought about him throughout the
day, when it was 6 0’ clock, she went over to his place and rang the doorbell.
‘We’re friends, right?’ she said as
soon as he opened the door
‘Um...yeah, what’s going on?’
She handed him the tickets ‘You said
I could go with a friend. You said we’re friends. Do you want to go with me?’
‘Sure, that’d be great...I mean, if
She glared at him. ‘I’d just like to
point out that I’m here. It’s six...’ she consulted her watch ‘...fifteen. It’s
the middle of winter. In Canada. Does any of that sound like what an unsure
person would do?’
He laughed. ‘Point taken’ he said.
‘You should come in. Want some tea? You look cold. The whole family is home.
Come meet everyone. Come on, don’t freak out’ he laughed and grabbed her arm
before she could make a run for it ‘They’re just my family, they don’t bite’
‘I only came here to invite you to go
with me to the concert!’ She was freaking out, meet his family? No way.
‘Mom, would you come to the door,
please?’ he yelled
‘Shh! I’m going to kill you’
That was how she met his family.
The day of the concert came and went.
She had the best time of her life.
‘Thanks for getting me these tickets,
David, I really appreciate it. This has been the
best day of my life’ she
gushed ‘And thanks for coming with me too. How did you get the tickets anyway?’
‘Oh my mum is friends with the
drummer, I think’
‘Wow. Your family is so cool’ she
said, as she turned her key in the lock
‘Thanks’ he shuffled from one foot to
another in her tiny apartment.
‘I’m gonna make some tea, you want?’
she called from the kitchen.
‘Sure’ he called back.
She put the kettle on to boil and
came back. He was still standing around, shuffling his feet.
‘Something on your mind?’ she asked
‘What...no, no...I mean, yeah...I
mean, not really’
She smiled indulgently, ‘David, you
don’t stutter. What’s going on?’
He was looking at her in a weird way.
His normally intense eyes were even more so, and he looked really nervous.
‘It’s not important’ he was staring
into her eyes. His very stance belied the statement.
‘Do you want to pray about hanging
out more often’ he blurted out. He stuck his hands in his pockets and cringed.
She was confused.
‘Hanging out? You mean like we do
with the guys from church?’
‘Why do we need to pray about that, I
mean, we already hang out, is there a problem?’
‘Um...I meant...er...without the
others’ His color rose with every word he uttered.
There was a slight pause. When she
spoke, her voice was quieter.
‘You mean, just the two of us?’
‘Uh...yeah...yes. I mean...could you
stop looking at me for one second so I can concentrate on my...um...
suggestion?’ When she furrowed her brows, he said ‘It’s just...I kind of lose
my train of thought when you look at me for too long, you’ve got the most
incredible eyes I’ve ever seen’ he passed a hand through his blonde hair.
‘What, me!’ she gasped ‘You should
look in the mirror sometimes Dave’
They lapsed into an awkward silence,
looking into each other’s eyes and quickly looking away. It was pleasant, but
‘Okay, fine, I’m not looking at
you...I’ll just look at...’ she turned around ‘Oh yeah, this flowerpot looks
like it wants to be looked at’
He chuckled. ‘Stop making me laugh,
Femi, I’m trying to be serious here’
‘Okay. So, I’m 26 years old...wait, I
never asked how old you are!’
‘What! You don’t look a day older than
18 but you talk like a 23 or 24 year old so I was a little confused. Anyway, I’m
26. I’m not a bad guy, I love God as much as you do, I’ve got a good job and
it’s not like I’m, like, jumping or anything, but I just thought maybe we
could...maybe pray about, you know, getting into a relationship. Just pray,
nothing major, yet. But I like you. I really like you. I mean, i...’ he
breathed in deep ‘I really, really, really like you, I think you’re extremely
beautiful, inside and out. You’re on my mind like, all the time, and hanging
out with you, I mean just seeing you makes me so happy and...I promise, I had
more to say but you’re looking at me again’
She smiled and took his hand. The
kettle was whistling in the background.
‘I was also going to say, I love how
your hand fits in mine but you distracted me. So, do you want to pray about
There was a
knock on the door. It was David.
you alright? It’s been almost an hour’
She got out
of the tub, towelled herself dry put on her pyjamas.
standing at the table, holding a spatula. She could smell chicken pepper soup,
Nigerian style. The sudden rush of love that swamped her surprised her. She
walked to him and hugged him around the waist.
‘I’m still a
little mad, Femi’
‘I love you’
She breathed on his neck in a way that she knew tickled him. Sure enough, he
laughed a little
small to give me so much grief. Sometimes I’m tempted to stuff you in my pocket
where you’ll be safe and I won’t have to worry. You can’t just go MIA for hours
Femi, you know I worry a lot.’
It won’t happen again’ She kissed his neck and let go. ‘So, you made me pepper soup’
you’re going to drink it all up and tell Uncle David what the matter is’
you think anything is the matter?’
went jogging. You don’t jog. You don’t exercise at all’
‘Maybe I was trying to surprise my heart. You know, with a little exercise. It
must have been surprised because I kind of feel it’s still racing’
He set a
bowl of soup in front of her and handed her a spoon. ‘Eat!’ he commanded. ‘And
tell me what’s going on’
She felt the
Spirit pricking her.
later, David and Femi arrived in Nigeria. She had called her mum and told her
not to bother coming to pick them up, they would take a cab. She looked around
Lagos as the taxi sped by. There was the woman selling boli along the road. Hawkers came up to the cab when the inevitable
traffic caught up with them. She was nervous.
her shoulders. ‘Are you alright, honey?’
fine, just a little nervous’
the only one allowed to be nervous here, I’m the one meeting your parents
the first time’
Are you hungry?’
but I could eat something’
Uh...what is it?’
‘It’s just roasted plantain. It tastes nice with some groundnuts’
Five bolis and 2 yoghurts later, they arrived
at her parents’ house.
‘This is it’
he agreed. ‘I’ll get the bags, you go ring the bell’
there’s something I have to tell you’
down at her ‘Oh boy. I’m not going to like this, am I?’
not’ she agreed
kind of don’t know we’ve arrived’
not a problem, it’ll be a pleasant surprise’
sure...but’ she stopped him as he bent to retrieve the bags
um...kind of don’t know we’re in a relationship’
come on. It’s been two years’
it’s just...my mum isn’t really comfortable with white...I mean Caucasians’
like white people? How come?’
likes white people okay, it’s just...she doesn’t really like the idea of her
daughter marrying a white person’
their divorce rate is through the roof’
that’s true, but you and I are never getting divorced. Come on, let’s go in and
I’ll convince her. What about your dad?’
‘Oh my dad
is cool as a cucumber’ she shuffled her feet
one more thing David’
what could they possibly not know about, this time?’
don’t know about you’
the bags. ‘What? That’s...’ He was weak
‘So you just,
forgot to tell them you were in a relationship? What’s going on in your mind
know!’ she cried ‘I thought maybe if they saw you, they would fall in love with
you and kind of...not notice you were...you know, white’ she finished lamely.
should just put some shoe polish on my face and arms and they won’t notice.
Sorry, lame joke, I know’ he said when she raised her brow.
turned at the sound of footsteps.
there?’ a woman’s voice cane from behind the gate
you do, don’t say ‘Hi, Mrs. Babajide’, okay?’
should I say’
afternoon ma. Nigerian mothers like that’
there’? The voice said again
she whispered to him
mum. It’s Femi’
screamed and hurried to unlock the gate. She drank in her daughter’s face at
first, and then she looked at David, looked at the way her daughter was
clinging to David’s arm. Her eyes widened in alarm as she put two and two
together. David just caught her as she fainted.
‘I am going
to kill you, Femi’ said David.
To Be Continued...
p.s. sorry guys, I usually don't do this, but the story didn't want to end. I felt like it was too long and didn't want to give you guys undue stress. I'll post the next part later.
When i was younger (like two or three years ago, lol), I
used to want to write down everything I was feeling, because it made me feel
Microsoft Word was my best friend, I could tell it anything
and it wouldn't judge me.
We ate together, slept together (i literally sleep
with my laptop every night), did everything together. I've never been close to
a human being like that. A little pathetic, I know, but it worked.
It used to keep my secrets and dreams, hopes and
aspirations, things I couldn't say out loud for one reason or the other.
Now I don’t know what’s going on with me.
Microsoft Word and I fell out.
Not out of love, like completely out of love, but I find myself
more and more reluctant to put down my feelings.
Now I feel like Backspace and I are best friends.
I write stuff, then I backspace it all off.
I don’t know why.
And the end result is this huge ball of emotions in my chest
where my heart should be, and I feel like I can’t breathe because emotions are
blocking my bronchi, and I can’t even separate the emotions, so I don’t even
know exactly what I’m feeling.
It’s like Bronchiectasis (which is a lung condition
characterized by excessive sputum production. Sputum here = emotions)
Wait, now that I think about it, I think I remember one of
my professors saying the sputum production is usually more severe right after
the person wakes up. Or maybe i read it somewhere. Anyway, that’s kind of how I
I’m sorry if I’m weirding you guys out by saying sputum
countless times, med student here.
You know, I used to be able to fix things, ever since I was
little. I just needed to know the
problem, and boom, I’d find a solution, I mean, I’m not even joking.
In primary and high school, my classmates would fight and
then report themselves to me, and I was supposed to be able to help them solve
their differences. I don’t know how that started, don’t ask.
The worst part about all of this is I don’t even know what’s
going on with me so I can’t fix my problems.
And I can’t talk to my friends about it because nothing is
wrong, and yet everything is. I’m not even making sense. I’m confusing myself.
What is happening to me?
How can you tell if you have truly forgiven a person?
Some people say it’s when you don’t get angry when you think of them.
Some people say it’s when they don’t change your mood when they walk in the door.
Some people say a lot of shit, really.
Forgiving someone for stealing your pen has got to be easier than forgiving someone for killing your dad, right?
Like what if you’re not angry when you think of them, but just feel a kind of hopeless despair?
I’m gonna tell you guys a little story.
You see, I’m this very sunny person with a very bubbly personality. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Only a handful of people really know when I’m feeling down, mostly because I don’t like it when people keep asking me what’s wrong. Because when they ask me what’s wrong, sometimes, I just assume that they care. Sometimes I just burst out in tears and embarrass everyone including myself. So I generally avoid stuff like that.
Anyway let me tell you about a family friend of ours. Let’s call him X. Only my sister and my mum would know this friend.
(I’m not sure if I’m gonna publish this post or not, I’m not sure if it will end up in my recycle bin, like its ancestors, but I’m bothered enough to keep writing about this, and I need closure)
X was like a big brother to us. He was about ten years older than us. During the long summer break while our parents were working, and our grandma was watching us, we would all play together, all the kids in the neighborhood. I was quite the tomboy back then, I mean I still am, but now I have boobs, and something that looks like a butt. Anyway we would all play together, you know, football, catch, I-call-on, even climb trees and fences, typical kid stuff. He watched us while we were at his place, my grandma watched us while they were at ours.
Anyway I was about 6 here. My little sister was 5. One day he called me. I know you guys already know where this story is leading, or you have a rough idea.
He told me he wanted to ask me something, and I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. I was a little girl, what did I know? I agreed.
Now I won’t write exactly what happened, because not only am I still very ashamed, there’s also the reason that my sister and a couple of her friends actually read this blog. Plus, I’m so emotional right now, I can’t stop crying.
See, my mum is very naïve. I mean she’s as green as they come. Like, you guys have no idea how naïve she is. I love my mum a lot, but I wish she’d told us about predators that disguised themselves as big brothers. I wish she’d told us about big brothers that might have wanted to take us into dark corners. I wish she’d told us about uncles that offered us candies in the dark and put a finger against our lips. No, I wish she’d told me, because I’m the older one. I’m the big sister. I’m the one with the responsibility. I’m the one who should watch out for my little sister. But all she told us was ‘Don’t talk to strangers’ and ‘Don’t accept things from strangers’. I guess she thought we were too young. Or she didn’t know that kind of evil existed in the world. I honestly don’t know.
But Uncle X wasn’t a stranger. If I accepted a candy bar from him, I wasn’t disobeying mummy. If he put one hand up my yellow princess dress and a finger on my lips, bribing me to keep it a secret, I wasn’t disobeying mummy. If he told me to go get my sister so he could put his big, fish-smelling, disgusting hand up her dress too, Mummy never said anything about that. And if he did it behind closed doors, what was the big deal? It was like playing hide and seek anyway. Mummy never said we couldn’t play hide and seek with Uncle X.
You see, right now, I don’t know who I hate more, Myself or Uncle X.
I hate myself so much for letting my sister get caught up in that shit.
I hate myself. I fucking hate myself.
It shouldn’t have happened to any of us, but I swear, if I had known it was wrong, I would never ever have brought my little sister into it. I would never have told her Uncle X wanted to see her. I would never have let Uncle X get anywhere near her, because you see, I love her so damn much that I would die for her.
And I hate him so much for what he did to us. I can’t believe he did that to my mum, I can’t even begin to count the things she did for him. He was like a son to her.
I hate him so much for ruining my life, my innocence; for giving me the experience that made me so fucking cynical. I’ve never been the same since that summer. Never.
I’ll be 20 years old on Sunday, and for all my talk about wanting a boyfriend, I don’t know if I’m actually ready for that.
I’m too scared to have a boyfriend.
Is my life not totally and completely screwed?
My only consolation is that he didn’t actually rape us. And I don’t know why he didn’t. Is there some psychological reason why he didn’t? I don’t know what I’d have done if he actually did the deed. How would I feel, knowing I was an accomplice to nearly destroying my sister’s life?
I was angry for a long time. I was bitter and angry; and besides my grandma, we never ever told a soul. I don’t know why she never told my mum, but she stopped us from going there, and took care of us.
We told my mum in the summer of 2010, and she cried like a baby.
When I have my own kids, as soon as they're old enough to recognise their names, and understand me, I will tell them all the little things that make up the big things. I'll tell them that, no matter who it is, never let anyone put their hands up your Cinderella panties. Do not go with anyone into the dark corner where no one can see you. I'll tell them every little thing that they ought to know, because I know I won't be able to watch over them night and day.
Like I said, I was angry and bitter for a long time, but then I became a Christian, and I had to give all that up, and I’m not even sure I have, at least not completely.
I mean, sure, I’m not so angry and bitter anymore.
But every now and then, I get ridiculously sad, and I want to talk to my sister about it, but I feel too guilty. Or something. I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling. Sometimes I feel hopeless and helpless, sometimes I feel weak with despair, sometimes I can’t stop crying, Sometimes I’m so fucking angry. Sometimes, I just am.
Today, I was wondering. What would I do if I met this guy later in the future? Would I be my usual bubbly self, hiding my true feelings? Or would I spit in his face and walk away? Would I talk to him, ask him why? Would I pretend not to even recognise him at all, when the very image of his detestably smiling face is etched into my memory like it was burned in there with a flat iron? What would I do?
I looked at the boots. I really really looked at the boots from all angles possible. I cleaned them, and did everything i could to make them shine. Of course they were shining...as much as they could. But no matter what I did, the signs of wear were visible. I sighed and went into the bathroom thinking of any other alternative to wearing the ridiculous boots. Okay they're not that ridiculous, they are warm as hell(not that hell is warm) and they cost me a fortune. They were the absolute boots for the weather forecast that CNN predicted for my city, but that didn't make me feel any better about wearing them. Nothing was actually wrong with the boots. I mean, no rat holes or anything. They were actually in perfect condition. They were just...old.
I mean, who feels good about wearing ugly old boots?
Now, I know what you're thinking.
No I don't.
I could guess though.
Is anyone of you thinking maybe...I don't know...
Why not get new boots?
Well I'll answer the question anyway.
You know when you have a lot of money that you're not using immediately and someone needs money and you lend them the money in the hope that they will pay back before you go completely broke?
Okay you know that feeling when you go broke before you're supposed to go broke and you know you dare not open your big mouth to ask for money from home?
Picture those two situations.
Anyway so there i was, trying on the old boots. My housemate was there tying to cheer me up. ''It's not that bad, it will keep you warm at least'' (by the way she is going to kill me because I ate her spaghetti so if you don't see any blogposts after this, you know what happened).
I wore the boots to class. Well not really to class, because today I had practical classes at the hospital, and you know how you have to change into scrubs and labcoats and hospital shoes and the lot, so there was only this...rather mean looking woman at the busstop who looked at my boots in a mean manner.
But her boots were uglier.
So I kanye-shrugged off her eyes and stepped into the bus like a boss :)
Anyway I would have totally pulled off the boots...except immediately I walked into the hospital, there was this irritating squish-squashy sound coming from somewhere near my feet...you know that sound you hear when your shoes are really wet? Yeah well I heard them but my shoes weren't wet at all. A couple of people were staring at me, but i put my headphones in and lifted my chin.
Long story short (not really), my feet did not freeze.
I'm grateful I have old boots to keep them warm.
I'm not vain am I? Nahhh.
P.s. Forgive my tense changes, I didn't really have time to proof-read the post.
A God-loving, fun-loving, chicken-loving, music-loving, BS-allergic, skinny klutz of 5 feet and 4 inches. I love to sing, and I'd much rather write down what I feel than say it out loud. That makes me a...what? send me an e-mail : email@example.com