• Shattered soul

Hello friend, I’m Nami

Follow me on this journey as I talk to my imaginary friend.you.

Welcome to a new reality

  • Illusions


    I had to take a break . Speaking to you everyday is exhausting sometimes. It’s like …. The more we talk the more I realize a lot of things about you . I know more than you think I do.actually, I know everything.You are composed of desperate lies from your head all the way down to your feet.

    You embody the character.Those closest to you think you are ..Yes you mean well but you have taken this drama way too far.

    We come across a lot of people everyday and you forget we are all strangers . But I see your insecurities and your nervousness while no one else does,you can’t talk about those enemies
    because all we’re going to hear again
    is denial denial denial

    I know for sure other opinions make you sick
    and you can’t keep up with the society,
    in a big crowd of personalities,you can’t admit that your identity vanishes when you have to express yourself. Do you know why?because you’ve never given yourself some time.

    At the end i’ll give you the illusion that I know nothing and I’ll make you believe everything is fine . You’ll make me believe you are something you’re not .you’ll give me the illusion of knowing who you are. At the end of the day, we’re nothing more than illusions.even some of your dreams are just illusions.love is a great example.

  • Blank scripts

    Follow the script …

    Act one scene one here I go .

    If the world was a stage and I was a playwrite:

    The wind: It was a musician, the muse of a heartbeat and whistling was its charm. 

    The leaves: The companions of the wind, they were the strings of the guitar. Dancing towards oblivion.

    The flowers: They were the painters. A vision was their purpose. They played with colours and mystery. 

    The sun: It was the stage light, as it glowed upon the sounds of music in the air, the surface of the leaves, and gave life to all the trees. 

    The stars: They were the show stoppers, dancing in the sky. Revelling in the attention from the eyes of the observer. 

    The moon: The shy wonder of the night, sometimes barely visible. As it timidly sets the stage for another afternoon. 

    And lastly,

    You: With a thousand stories to tell you’re in thousands of places at once. Looking for mountains to climb and things to design. You’re curious and too quick, never on the stage but merely an observer, but secretly you’re the whole show. 

    There are a thousand stories to tell,
    So I’ll tell you a secret to this mysterious show
    The script is blank, the pages clear white
    And every minute new words appear
    For I am merely following sentimental alliances
    Just an observer watching as the future becomes clear.

  • The night in the desert


    I have a short story for you today …

    Walking through the deserted night, I descend into the valley and reserve my strength.
    I come across a man. His eyes won’t focus and his tongue trips over his pretty words.
    He says “I would be yours if you do me just this one favor.” He says “I am so parched , I couldn’t give my love without a small sip. So I offer him the water in my flask since I have a sip to spare.
    But he pours what I offer into his own reservoir,
    does not drink it, and then asks for more.
    But I had no more to spare. Only enough for a small sip for myself.

    So I continue on up the hill before me and I know I must pace myself.
    I meet a girl with lines on her arms and X’s on her legs.
    She says she met that man down below and he gave her these scars.
    She says “now I’m lost. But once I’m found, I can give you the love you desire. Could you do me this one favor and help me find my way?”
    So I ask where she is hoping to go.
    She says she wants the man in the valley.
    She says she’s sure so I lead her back to him and she screams:
    “You never wanted to help me, did you?!”
    She rages at me and snatches my flask only to swallow down the last drops I had left .
    I run up the mountain again.

    I find a boy singing to himself.
    He says I can sit with him until I catch my breath.
    So I do, and I ask him questions and he makes me laugh. He says my laugh sounds like a song he never wants to end. So he kisses me and his lips taste like sand to my dry tongue but I kiss him back anyway and he falls through my fingers and flies away on the wind. I crawl away, choking on the dryness in my lungs.

    As I reach the top of the mountain, I collapse.
    My chapped lips against the dewy grass.
    A hand gently touches my shoulder and I watch as they drink their own water In full flasks … I ask for a sip but they silently watch me as I cry in my agonizing state .I’m too dry at this point my lungs start feeling heavy and my entire body shuts down. My eyesight goes into a blur and I could feel my breath floating away into the sky . Why was I in the desert in the first place ? What was I searching for ? Was it love ? If so ….. why did I die ?


  • Remove your tag


    You ever get the feeling that someone is watching from far behind you? You ever feel like someone is watching your every move? Like someone is standing by, waiting patiently for you to make a mistake?

    Well, unfortunately, someone is actually watching, yes dear I believe you have a ‘stalker’. That ‘stalker’, however, is a different kind. This kind looks down upon you, because of the clothes you wear, the things you do, as well as how you act. This “stalker’s” name is society .I may not become famous ,I may not be a model or beautiful “according to society” or” smart” according to society but the amount of people that like me does not define me. My success does not define me

    my beauty does not define me, the clothes i wear does not define me, the grades i make…does not define me. In this society…it feels a need to have a higher level to overlook everyone else and put them down and this is the logic that it actually uses,that a man with a more money, with a big house, with designer clothes.. is better than the poor man, with barely anything… what the hell is that?

    the girl with long hair, whiter features, lighter skin…is better than the girl without those features because society says this is beautiful and this is what’s not,pssssshhhttt!… i mean a group of people one day had their own perception…not proven facts decided that you know im gonna favor white people and have them be on God’s level because i like their skin better, and their hair so i’m going to put everyone else below them and treat them like crap. this society is so sickening our world is beautiful but society wow….go to hell really….

    but here’s the catch…

    We are society. automatically we become society from our birthdate. but remember if you want society off your case, then get off society’s case.


  • Paper or plastic ?

    “Would you like your groceries bagged in paper or plastic? will you be paying with paper, Or plastic?”

    Rock Paper Scissors
    has been replaced With something
    more rudimentary But essentially,
    Neither have intentionality. No matter how far you try to move away from synthetic,you’re still drinking out of plastic, eating out of plastic driving, walking, buying, sh**ting
    out mounds of it. You put your plastic in plastic, leave it outside until a man swings by throws it into a pit with all the other wasted sh**t to exist for all eternity. Would you rather melt or burn?
    Bankruptcy is a hard lesson to learn
    But the ashes of this economy have been
    Touted as prosperity and Instead of resigned to an urn to relearn the transparency of democracy, As it should be.I’ll trade my plastic smile for a fistful of paper. I’ll exchange it for something physical, Something bigger ,Something somehow better, Maybe friendship …
    What !!!! Capitalism! Ah,
    The dream land. “Build your monopoly
    Crush your enemy” Oops I mean your neighbor….They’re all the same in this day and age. Community has been sold for cents and Rands. Now we’re fighting tooth and nail
    To be the one wearing the shock collar.

    I have the most likes on my photo
    This minor annoyance has become my addiction.I’m shopping and sharing
    And living within this tiny television.This is post apocalyptic
    You just can’t see it because you’re living in it. Things are better, yes but 6.7% of South Africans are diagnosably, incurably depressed. 37% are oppressed, 44% are over stressed and 81% are in debt.Friend my point is that …

    We’re not living.
    We’re all just dying a minute a time.With every lavish dinner that we buy,
    We’re not trying to savour it.
    Instead we build our Instagram profiles
    one post at a time.

    Oh and social media ?

    If I asked you right now, What would you do if you were the last person alive on Earth? You’d have no concrete answer to that…..Because once you’d get past that string of thoughts where you want to ride the coolest cars, or live in the craziest places or try some deadly yet expendable weapons by yourself, you’ll be left blank.
    Because nobody would be there to watch all your triumphs anymore.That would be the moment when you’ll realize
    How less you’ve lived and how much you missed.


About Me

i am a grain of sand
of rice of billions and billions of others
no one can see me in this tsunami.I am an Aquarius and my biography is hidden behind my words.

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