Mister Muscles

He is not like many from here. He possesses an ora about him…positivity and kindness. However, his supportive voice can be considered rude at times, yet he speaks with truth and authority. He reminds me of myself sometimes, always doing something for someone else whether that’s standing outside in the pouring rain making sure a peer is ok or going the extra mile so someone has money and food.

I call him mister muscles because well…he is strong. He reaps strength, physically and mentally…He is one to be treasured and admired, one that deserves more than he can imagine. One that I had the pleasure of knowing.

My time knowing mister muscles has come to an end. As life proceeds to change and grow. Our paths are seperate, we weren’t meant to be on the same one. I say fate had something to do with it.

I won’t forget him though. I won’t forget what we would talk about, everything I would listen to, because I secretly enjoyed listening. He would tell me how he is protective over his father, and how he wants his significant other to be there with him when he is unwell and how he believes he was meant to do something bigger and better than those around him. He wants affection, love and connection. He will get it. He will get what he believes in, because good people will always win in the end. I can only hope no one changes him.

Good bye and good luck mister muscles, Maybe I will see you again one day…

Intent For Content

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My take on the gym

Okay, so…the dreaded gym. Well it’s not dreaded when you begin going and start enjoying yourself… I tell fibs.

However, recently when I have been in the gym I have been forming somewhat an opinion – or actually lets call it an observation on people.

For example…Makeup?! How on earth can some women wear a full face of makeup, full on contour, lipstick, eyeshadow and eyelashes to workout in? honestly do they not sweat like me? I look like a whale that has surfaced onto the pavement when I exercise. My face goes bright red and I sweat an excessive amount. If I was to wear makeup to the gym I could open a bakery from all of the cake coming off of my face. – I’m so envious that these women can wear that and look utterly perfect whilst working out, it’s not fair!

Another observation I found yesterday was the leg press. Now, we all have a little rest on the leg press machine because, erm its difficult! but this guy was full on sat on the leg press machine for 30 minutes on his phone – then there is me free willy trying to make eye contact so I can go on it and get what I needed to do done – you see I like to go to the gym as quickly as possible haha. But he literally did not move for the duration of his time on the leg press. There was not one leg extension or even so much of a movement, apart from his thumbs on his mobiles keyboard!

I love watching the men have testosterone wars though (I don’t observe from the leg press just to add). They all stand before the big gym mirrors, pumping there shoulders and chests as much as possible…maybe to assert authority to one another, i’m not sure. But I just find it interesting to watch because I myself would never flex in the gym mirror – I mean I only have cellulite to flex at the moment but it still counts!

My last observation would be getting side tracked by how some people look flawless whilst working out. They literally have the perfect form, perfect gym wear and know exactly what they’re doing. It shys me away from the weight area because I get worried i’m going to break my back or make myself look like a complete twat…I do my weight lifting when no one is around to avoid the embarrassment…I have also decided that I need to invest in some cool “gym goer” gym wear, just for the added affect…

Thank you for reading as always – I also am loving the communication on instagram – My follower count isn’t high but I like that you all interact with me on there! @intentforcontent

Intent For Content

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Solitude – Creative Writing Stories University

My solitude had grown wary but today, yes today was the day where I would change that, finally. Today is the day where I tell you my story, the story that has brought me to this place and time to tell you all from a different world…

I had every-thing people would dream and describe happiness is. The diamonds, the cars, the watches, the latest technology and lets not forget the mansion. I had everything that society says can bring peace and happiness, I had money and security. But I didn’t have him. 

I was alone with everything we had built together. I would wake up with the pain of what had happened and an empty space next to me as I turned over. This was, every…single…day. I stopped smiling, laughing, dancing and cooking in the kitchen amongst all of the quirky hanging signs we had picked out together. I was a demoralising presence to be around. Yet I couldn’t change. They say heartache is meant to get better, eventually one day, but it wasn’t going to for me.

I watched them kill him. Watched them propel the knife back and forth, immediately penetrating through his skin and into his body. They had a hold of me. I kicked and shoved and bit with all of my might trying to get them off me, trying to get to him, my love, my life, before it was too late. My wail was piercing, I wanted them to do something, anything, stop it. They could of taken everything off of me; the diamonds, the cars, the watches and the mansion. I wouldn’t of cared…but they took him. The piece of my life that matched my heart and soul. The piece that took me as far away from the solitude that wore thin in my eyes and my heart from gut wrenching loneliness. I saw him struggling, saw him helpless, I saw him losing his breath, I saw him look at me as he was dying before my eyes. I saw his lips mouth “I love you” before he collapsed to the floor with nothing left to save him. I saw him die. 

They did that to him. They did that to us. Those four men whom had been hired as hit men to solve a drug insolvency. Those four men that were idiotic enough to be involved in a murder, let alone the murder of an honest innocent man. My man. Destroyed his life and mine. They slaughtered him as if he was nothing, they didn’t listen to my scream. They weren’t going to hear us out, there mission was to kill.

I waited approximately five hundred and two days in solitude before it grew wary. I was in unbelievable pain, silence and loneliness every day. Nothing I did was good enough, absolutely nothing took the pain away. Only he could. I needed to be with him, I couldn’t go on without him. I wanted the security and happiness that oozed off of his character back. I needed him. 

Which is why on that dark dreary day in Wolverhampton I decided my solitude was over, it had worn thin… 

I was found hanging from the balcony in my mansion, surrounded by the riches and lavish things in a home we had built together. I had so much going for me, we had so much planned for our future, yet it was all destroyed. Only to be found by that mail man the next morning. It was over. That’s it, that’s my story. That is how I died, wanting to be with him.