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Why Start A Blog

Max Pixel

This is an entry for contest for bloggers.

Have you ever seen someone become very successful at something? So successful that you cannot help but wish some of it for yourself? Well, I have. I was a two hundred level university undergraduate when the blog craze hit my campus. Everyone suddenly had a blog; at least everyone I know.

There was this guy in particular, Lukman Fassasi (lukmanfassasiblog.com). His blog was very popular. I browsed through the blog and thought to myself, “Gray, you can do this!” But nah, I decided to pass.

Next thing I knew, my friend opened a blog too. He was into entertainment news/music/fashion/lifestyle. I watched in amazement as he gradually became popular too. Well, he wasn’t as popular as Lukman but that didn’t matter. That was when I decided to take the plunge

I began blogging because I wanted to be popular

If I remember correctly, I had about 30 hits on my first blog post. It was something I copied off a news website. I felt awesome. If only I knew that many people had clicked on it out of ‘sympathy’. you see, I actually shared the link with my whatsapp contacts. Well, I believed I was well on my way to fame.

My next blog post wasn’t so popular. I can’t remember exactly what it was but I am sure it wasn’t something related to entertainment. Long story short,by the fourth post, I was tired of it all. I was practically begging people to click my links. At that point, I needed another reason to continue blogging.

I continued blogging to showcase my works

Soon, I began to do flash fiction and poems. I used to share them on social media. It then occurred to me that I could be posting my works on my blog. Of course, I had to send the links to people individually but there was no rush. It wasn’t like news. It was exhibiting my art.

Soon, I began to have quite the patronage. Nothing grand, of course. But some people began to enjoy what I write. For a long time, I would have between 30 to 100 views on a post. On trending posts, I could have up to 130.

At this time, I had given up on trying to be popular. I simply needed a platform to express myself.

I blog these days for the sake of it

I no longer blog, at least not everyday. Why? I have a blog on Steemit. You know, it feels like extra work to post on Steemit and then post on my blog. I rather post on Steemit and share the link. Some people complain that they aren’t able to comment (as they aren’t Steemit users). I don’t know what to do about that.

And that’s why I started blogging (and still blog)

Thanks for reading.

The Last Letter

Dear Martha,

I wonder if you still feel the same way about me; although I admit I have always been about me. Remember that night we walked on and on? The night before the world fell in love with my song. You told me if I ever felt like I was alone, I shouldn’t hesitate to call home. I wonder if that offer still stands, if you’re still waiting with open hands. I wanted to talk to you before the magazines got to you. But every time I try, I can’t always reach you. All of my new friends are fake and don’t last, I guess it’s why I’m reaching back to my past. I always felt amazing when I was in the crowd and when I’m alone the silence becomes too loud. I wonder if I should start another paragraph, but I did attached a photograph. I’ve never been good with writing and I’m scared I might say the wrong thing. The picture isn’t complete and you know it. I pushed you away and I regret it. The picture is for you, before the magazines get to you. You’ll read a lot of nasty things about me, things I don’t want you to imagine when you think about me. I have a lot of bruises so I used a lot of make-up, a far cry from the girl you knew when we broke up. I just want to know I always loved you; I swear, even God knows those words are true. I’ve lost everyone I know but you. Please forgive me so I’ll find peace in the other world

Jenny

I Still Love You

Source


It started when Salima walked in with a smile on her face
She sat on the bed and looked me straight in the eyes
My room-mate winked and gave us the room in haste
I walked to the wall and turned my face to gaze

She wanted to start but couldn’t find the words to use
I smiled because I had stolen the words and her muse
But the smile was only a shadow of what would come
It was like soft wind and drizzle and then rainfall

“If I told you I love you, would you think I’m telling the truth?”
I wondered if she was talking to me or sending a whatsapp note
I wanted to turn to look at her but my legs had turned to ice
That itself would have been a bad idea as tears had filled my eyes

“you know why I’m here and turning away wouldn’t change it”
I turned to her, murmured and hit the wall in frustration
She smiled and stood up, picking her bag as she rose
I returned to the wall and felt her shadow coming close

I remembered a scene from the movie she had asked me to watch
The girl had turned to the guy, kissed him on the cheek and said:
“it takes an extraordinary girl to make a bad guy like you change;
I tried to break you but I only succeeded in breaking my heart.”

Just then the bathroom opened and my neighbour appeared in a towel
Salima smiled and said: “I’m not surprised. I’ve given up on you”
I turned to protest but tongue and mouth had gone on strike
“don’t bother” she said. “I’m leaving. I quit. But I still love you”

Iced Love

Source

I first heard your melody
Through the window of my room
It was a heavenly symphony
Planting a love that would bloom

Our love grew like a tree
Planted beside a rushing river
One year turned to three
And the sun smiled on in approval

Then you longed for another
So you took your warmth away
Ice grew in the weather
It began too cold for the sun to stay

The river froze to a still
Yellow leaves began falling from above
My love is iced and still
And will remain regardless of your love

Green Eyes

Image source 

It was the first thing Sharon heard: the cackle of laughter she could always recognise. She struggled against the choking happiness to breath, her eyes melting into tears. He had swore it would never happen again; she had promised herself she would not take personal if it did. Her shameless emotion dis-robbed and she could see her bleeding heart reflect on the window panes. She had come in through the kitchen and the smell of macaroni had filled the air. She had seen the chopping board on the table and onion peels. She walked slowly into the living room and the happiness invaded her lungs causing her breathing to become ragged and raspy. She saw her looking at a half-finished painting, her face filled with excitement. Sharon dug the knife first into her and then her husband when he turned to her in horror. She then bent to pick up the picture; the picture of her twin sister. What she saw forced her to bury the knife in her stomach. The picture was the face of her twin, but the eye was green and her sister’s was blue.