Her bitter truth (wlw)

06

✿𝔥𝔢𝔯✿

☆𝓙𝓪𝓼𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓽. 𝓞

A small smile takes place on my lips but I wipe it fucking off immediately. I shouldn't be thinking about such nonsense right now knowing how bad everything went the last time I entertained such thoughts.

I find myself sitting in the art room lately just to hear her talking to herself or singing wrong lyrics boldly thinking no one is listening in.

Now She is talking to 'someone' her self about how her life is going to be if she was born a man. I tried so hard to hold back from laughing pressing my lips in firmly. I hate noise, but something about her kind of noise makes me want to keep her around.

My phone buzzed on the table close to the colour palette where I had left it earlier. I sigh seeing a heart aching text from fucking dad, just of him asking me to call him immediately but I know there's more to it than just a phone call.

I have been skipping work lately. I don't know how that's any of his business since I'm working on my own and running my own shit but dad always has a way to stick his dirty nose in my business.

I thought studying a different course in the university to avoid working with my father or inheriting his darn tech company will stop anything. I thought becoming my own CEO will keep me further away from him but since my business gains more income he'd always want to control me saying I shouldn't mess up his darn name.

Mr Saint Olajide is only concerned about public image not of his family not of himself too. He'd use religion as a cover up for all his show off and evil activities. I'm the one who always gets manipulated into his games.

"Do you have any idea what's going on in your warehouse right now?" My father asks from the other end as soon as he clicks receive. I always wonder how he gets information about my business before I even do, I'm not surprised it's Mr Ola anyway.

"I have managers" I managed to say after a long pause. I have a serious speech impairment problem, some might call it selective mutism because if i mix it with my judgmental attitude i really hate talking. My parents don't know this, only my old nanny does, they don't care actually.

I've only been away from work for four days, Don keeps me fully updated about everything. I've been home painting and have managed to sell of hundreds of my work within this four days, I really didn't plan to earn money from something I enjoy doing and one that keeps me sane, but dad decided to announce on his stupid birthday party that I'm launching an art gallery so I had to go with it.

My mum? Step mum. She's a smiling witch, a devil with white garment.

"Oh well,if you don't get down here this minute I'll cause a huge scene, and you know what that means!" He hangs up. There we go again with his threats.

I sigh rolling down my sleeves and throwing my jean jacket over my shoulder. I had
plans to show some visitors around my art gallery this afternoon, I never thought I'd be leaving until then.

Dad hates to see me dressed like a 'man' but since he found out I'm gaining lots more fame with it on social media I noticed him stop bothering me about it. This bloggers will quietly take pictures and videos of me and when I read the comments full of thirsty girl I just cringe.

I don't dress like a man!

I don't even have a picture of me on my social media page, just of my favourite paintings with my comments turned off because this people will say anything. I don't know if they think I don't see their nasty comments about how they want me to press them against a wall.