FeyVored

Simulated Perfection. A little boy kicked his red mud-stained ball towards me. A little too high the kick was, as the ball bounced off my right knee, leaving a stain that was conspicuous. He ran up to me giggling, a very boisterous one, like he had no clue what he had done. He pointed to the ball, still inattentive to the frown that had formed on my face, which had on it clear signs of tiredness. Before he could say anything, I picked him up and spun him around, his little feet hanging high, drawing wide circles in space. "Mummy, Mummy!" The little boy's older sister ran out of the house to give me a big hug. I dropped him on the ground and squeezed them both tight in a warm embrace. I had missed them and it was obvious that they had eagerly awaited my arrival. Joseph, my 4 year old boy, gave me a slightly wet kiss on my cheek and Deborah, a very smart 7 year old, wasn't slow in noticing the stain on my knee. I explained to her that it was her brother's fault a

Generation Facebook. That's what it means. Not "Generation FeyVored", if that crossed your mind. And if it didn't, sorry, read on. Please. In recent times, as I log in to my facebook account, my mind tends to conjur up images of a large hall. And as I press the Enter key to complete the tedious (as I have such a long username) process of logging in, subconsciously and habitually, I prepare myself as I enter into this large beaming hall to make my presence known. Characterised mainly by "friends" who seem to be clawing over one another to get their points across, this hall- like a very large and noisy classroom, noticeably has various types of students: The first category my mind picks up are the 'Noisemakers'. These are the movers and the shakers of my homepage-almost constantly having something to say or share. A few of them use exclamation marks excessively to make a point- "Hi!!!!!!" They regularly feed my otherwise starving '

For reasons unknown to me, I was deeply inspired to write this note on my way to school this morning. I hope this note is relevant to someone. Stay blessed . I dread to start this letter with “Dear” because I fear that she might read it and become suspicious and spiteful of what is now non-existent. And no, I wouldn’t want that, for I am a changed person and whatever I do now, I do it in love. I would like to ask you a few questions though, well; I would like to know if when you see her your eyes light up like a kid’s in a candy store? Do you find yourself smiling just at the mention of her name? And do you wish you could hold her in your arms and make those precious moments last forever? Is she your half’s other, close to you like no other? I’m not writing to make you feel insecure about your new relationship. I don’t want you to feel that you are being watched closely, I haven’t gone crazy and I am fine; there’s been no mental-breakdown. I just want to remind you that you once s