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Love and Expectations – Let-It-Out Chapters 


Sometime ago, in February, I mentioned that I wanted to start a series, the Let-It-Out Chapters. 

The Let-It-Out chapters are basically just writings, or more appropriately, rantings. But I didn’t want to be the only one, so I opened it to all my readers because I feel we all need to let it out sometimes and I want by blog to be just the place for that. 


To make it better, it was written by a blogger I really like and to be honest, it just made my day.  The name of her blog is StrikedbyEpicness and she’s such a powerful writer. 

She sent this to me today, and I hope you love it just as much as I did ❤

(PS :Make sure to  check out her blog. It’s awesome!) 

Love And Expectations 

Ranting is a rather special trait of a human. Why? Because unless the person is in your head, they will never know what you are talking about.

Here’s my rant today. One aspect that bothers me is the expectations that we are made to follow. Expectations don’t mean anything to me now (at least they don’t as much as they used to), because I’ve learnt to look over that to things like personality that really matter. It may be cliché but I speak from experience.  At one time I was obsessed with the perfect expectations that we need to follow, one of them being looks. I knew I was not able to fulfill this as I have vitiligo: a skin condition. I would therefore hide myself in the shadows to get away from society as much as possible so I wouldn’t embarrass myself because I did not look a certain way to be integrated into daily life. This all changed when I met two people in particular who are very close to my heart who looked beyond my outside perspective and loved me, flaws and everything. The message I want to bring across is that we all have flaws. Even if one person seems to have it all, in the back of their mind they are troubled by something that no one really knows about. We should surround ourselves with people that make us comfortable and bring out the best in us, only then can we learn to embrace the true beauty with us. [Also, the people who made expectations deserve something so bad even I can’t think of it].

– Strikedbyepicness 

If you want to send something, for the Let-It-Out chapters or anything like that, I’ve left the instructions in the comment section. I’ll love to hear from you. 


Ima ❤


New Series! – The Let-It-Out Chapters


So lately, I’ve been really inconsistent with my blogging and honestly, it’s gotten me really upset. I think the main reason for it is that it’s soo hard to find time to sit down and write a really good quality post, especially with all the pressure from school. 

So, I decided to start this new series called The Let-It-Out Chapters where I basically just write down anything at all- Anything I feel needs to be let out. It might be a short poem or write-up or anything at all. 

I’m trying to go all spontaneous with this. 

And in that spirit of spontaneity, I don’t think I want this new series to just be from me. I want it to include literally all my readers and I’ll probably post some Let-It-Out Chapters written by my friends and other people that I know. So pretty pretty please, send me anything you have written at a time you felt you just needed to let it out. It doesn’t matter how good you think it is; the Let-It-Out Chapters aren’t meant to be works of literature. Mine certainly won’t be. 

I’m really anticipating this. So if  you feel like sending your write-ups to me, I’ve left all the information on how you can do it in the comment section. 

Soo, to start out, here’s a little something I wrote today. It’s titled Fifteen. Hope you like it. 


Commitment is not something that comes easy to me. I am a fifteen year old fickle mind, who is still learning what is wrong and right. Who sometimes still forgets her left and right. 

Yet, I am a fifteen year old passionate soul filled with visions of a better life; a life I know I am capable of creating for myself. Though, not alone. 

But, I am a fifteen year old weak resolve;  my willpower is a frail thread begging to be strengthened by cords of discipline and self control. 

Many times I’ve learnt this lesson: I cannot conquer this mammoth, arid world alone. I have tried but I’m weak. 

I am a fifteen year old cry for help. 

Through The Window

I can see it all through the window 

A girl,  young,  leans on a gate turned deep-brown from rust

Her dress,  two shades lighter than the gate,

Barely covers her thighs.

One of her sleeves, thin, hangs loosely on her arm

I reach out,  on instinct, to pull back the sleeve

But she’s too far

Too young;

She hasn’t been taught how to be self conscious. Yet.

I can see it all through the window 

Another girl; fair and slender,

Also young but slightly older,

Stands outside with a little boy and girl.

She’s only in underwear,

But she’s placed her hands in an X-shape around her chest.

It’s written all over her face, her body language shouts,  ” Danger Zone! Keep Off!! Personal property : Trespassers Beware!!! “.

She’s learning,  I think to myself.

She’s just starting to learn.


There’s another girl.

Dressed, with skirts fully past her knees

And sleeves almost touching her wrists.

Yet her hands are wrapped around her;

Like a second layer of clothes.

She’s fully dressed but still feels naked.

Overly self-conscious, she’s heard them call her.

She’s learnt well,  too well.

She’s the girl behind the window.

I can see it all through the window.


Hope you guys liked it. I’ve been away for so long.  Hmm.






You came.
You saw.
You gave me hope for something better.
You gave me time; I wasted it.

You stayed.
You saw.
You dragged me through the mud of my mistakes.
You almost let me drown in the pool of my shame.

You turned.
You left.
You left me basking in the realization of my foolishness.
You left me, drunk and wasted, in the arms of 2017;
You can be better. Be better “

Photo Quote For The Day

Hey; here is it. 

The minute you learn to love yourself,  you wouldn’t want to be anybody else.  – Rihanna 

Quick Note :

I know I haven’t posted in a long, long while.  It feels like years since I’ve posted,  while it’s actually just been a month. I’m hopefully going to post more often because I’ve sincerely missed blogging.  A lot.  

And before I forget,  I would love to say a really big thank you to all those who followed my blog during this unplanned hiatus.  

All my future blog posts are dedicated to each and every one of you. 


Love, Ima ❤

TEETH – Phil Kaye

Ojichama is what I call my Japanese grandfather.

In 1945, his Tokyo home was burned to the ground.

Grampy is what I call my American grandfather.
In 1945, he was serving on the aircraft carrier USS Shangri-La,
sending off American fighter pilots to burn down Japanese houses.

Our jaws have not yet healed.

1906 – Poland.
Grampy’s father is hiding in an oven
He has heard men singing on the street below.
Hyenas my family calls them.
After beers and song, 
the townspeople come in to the Jewish ghetto
for a celebration beating – 
molar fireworks and eyelid explosions
Even when Grampy’s father grows up
the sound of jubilant song 
breaks his body into a sweat.

Fear of joy
is the darkest of captivities.

1975 – Tokyo.
My father, the long-winded student
with a penchant for sexual innuendo,
meets Reiko Hori,
a well dressed banker 
who forgets the choruses of her favorite songs.
Twelve years later they give birth
to a lanky light bulb.

1999 – California.
My mother speaks to me in Japanese –
most days I don’t have the strength to ask her to translate the big words.
We burned that house down Mother, don’t you remember?

1771 – Prague.
In the heart of the city, there is a Jewish cemetery – 
the only plot of land
where Grampy’s ancestors were permitted to be buried. 
When they ran out of room, there was no choice
but to stack dead bodies one on top of the other.
Now the cemetery has hills 
made from graves piled 12 deep,
individual tombstones jutting out crooked,
like valiant teeth
emerging from a jaw 
left to rot.

1985 – My parents wedding.
The two families sit together
smiling wider than they need to
Montague must be so happy,
we can Capulet this all go.

1998 – In the quiet of his Tokyo study,
Ojichama writes letters
addressed to his old four poster bed
on the backs of Betty Page postcards.
Haven’t had a good night sleep
since the night you left. 
Wish you were here.

2003 – I sit with Grampy’s cousin,
91 years old and dressed in full uniform.
I plead with him to untie the knots in his brow.
He says
Hate is a strong word,
but it is the only strength I have left.
How am I to forgive the men
that severed the trunk of my family tree
and used its timber to warm the cheeks
of their own children?

2009 – Grampy and I
sit in silence
watching his favorite:
I look over, 
the infertile glare of the television reflects his face, wet.
Grampy sits in his wheelchair,
teeth gasping out of his gums
like valiant tombstones
emerging from a cemetery
left to rot.

The teeth sit staring,
and I can read them.
Louis Bergman, killed at Auschwitz.
Samantha Cohen, killed at Dachau.
William Cain, killed off the coast of Okinawa.

My voice rushes from the safety of its throat,
I will not forget what has happened to us, Grampy.

And he looks at me with the innocent surprise 
of a child struck for the first time.

Forgetting is the only gift I wish I give to you.
I have given away my only son
trying to bury my hate in a cemetery that is already overflowing.
There are nights I am kept awake
by the birthday songs of children
I never let live.

They often look like you.

A plague on both your houses
They have made worm’s meat of me.


Hey 😊,

I’d love to start this post with this wonderful quote by Lidia Yuknavitch;


When I first heard this quote,  I was listening to a TedTalk by Lidia Yuknavitch, titled ‘The Beauty of Being a Misfit.’ ( Click  here to watch the talk). Now,  those words are the only thing that I can solidly remember from the entire talk.

The ability to reinvent yourself. Endlessly. That’s your beauty. 

Why are these the only words that I can remember? I don’t know,  but I think it’s because I’ve never actually thought of that.

We as humans have this built-in ability  power to become whatever we wish to be,  no matter what we’ve been before. It’s like being able to turn wood to paper in one day. It’s not easy,  but it’s certainly possible. 

You may be this shy, socially awkward person, who can’t even dream of dancing in public but, yet, you have the power to become the greatest dancer the world has ever seen.

Or maybe,  like me, you have a huge,  gigantic fear of talking to new people – you can still become the friendliest person you ever knew. ( Just a quick note: When I say you can become the friendliest person you ever knew,  it doesn’t mean you aren’t friendly now.  It just means that I’ve learnt from experience that people don’t usually assume that you don’t talk to them because you’re shy.  They often think that you don’t talk to them because you’re unfriendly or a snob.)

Or maybe you’re afraid of dogs. Or maybe you honestly just don’t like where you are right now.

It doesn’t have to remain that way. Not if you don’t want it to. 

That’s the beauty – and power – of being human. 

And so,  I’d like to end this post by another quote that I really like; 2016-10-05_20-20-36


Have a wonderful and amazing day, y’all.


Ima. ❤




It is often in the darkest skies that we see the brightest stars.

                                 – Richard Evans. 

When deeds speak,  words are nothing. 

                               – African Proverb 

Hidden Beautiful 

I think that every single  human has got something good in them.  Something beautiful. 

But most times, we don’t always see that part,  do we? 

Some weeks ago,  when I resumed school,  I decided that I was going to see the best in people.  I needed to see the beautiful beneath that girl who never seemed to like me and my friends for a reason I didn’t know.  I wanted to see the best in the girl who never really talked in my group.  I was going to see the good in that teacher I didn’t like, and in that boy was always complained about. 

To put it plainly,  I was going to see past their facades.

Or so I thought. 

After two long long weeks of school,  I suddenly realized something.  It isn’t my job to see past their  facades,  or to see the good in them, no matter how good my intentions were. 

No,  instead,  I’m meant to love them, just the way they are. Not be their therapist. Not become their best friend.  God’s  going to take care of all of that. 

Maybe the good  best in those people is right here,  staring at me in the face,  but I’m probably missing that because I’m looking in all the wrong places. 

I like how Dexter Morgan put it; 

Be careful what you think you know about someone, you’re probably wrong. 

So,  I’ve decided. I’m probably not some mentalist who can read people’s minds and know how they really feel , but it doesn’t mean that I can’t be nice to people and then hope that they realize that I actually do care for them. 

Because that’s how I’d like to be treated too. 


Ima ❤