Introduction diary of a playgirl

There’s a saying or phrase that I believe is familiar with most of us. Oh yeah it goes “Don’t hate the player hate game” . Well that’s the first rule. I hope there won’t be any disappointments. Every story has it’s beginning like every tree has it’s roots. This too is familiar with my story. I can admit that I wasn’t always like this. I didn’t grow up and suddenly decide not to settle with anyone or even the most simplest not to be loyal. We all do what we know some people follow the crowds some create their own paths but let’s be honest as a kid we follow the traits and trails of our parents. We believe they know better they’ve been here for more than most of us so it’s understandable. We follow the examples set by our parents. They as we grow up become the only people we trust. We look up to them believe in them. I think you can agree with me when I say although they’re not perfect

although they’re not perfect we see them as the only perfection we know. I believe I was lucky to grow up with both of my parents. It’s something most kids don’t get to have. They’re many cases of fathers running away and leaving the mother pregnant because they’re scared of their responsibilities or we hear of babies left in hospitals after birth or some unfortunately dumped at the forests. The list is endless but I guess you can call me fortunate. The first born child of Kgomotso and Damson Phillips. I have a little sister and a little brother. So we’re a family of Five. I grew up with no lack whatsoever I’m the kid who was born with a silver spoon under her tongue. I was born into privilege and I can’t deny that. I’m not rich my parents are. We live in a porch neighborhood outside Johannesburg in a huge Triple Story mansion. We have everything we can ever dream of and more. Although it all sounds appealing there’s one thing I lack. Love. There’s a saying that “Charity begins at home” but unfortunately it’s what my home lacked. There was no love. I didn’t know love all I knew was money. But money cannot buy me love it can’t buy me happiness. It doesn’t provide me with the feeling of being wanted or needed. All it provides is materialistic things that hide the hole deep inside of me. It hides the emptiness within my heart. I’d rather have been born poor in a house full of love than being rich and lacking charity. It’s us the rich who are poor in spirit. We hide behind the money the expensive clothes we wear the many maids who serve us and the porch cars we drive. My little sister is two years younger than me. She’s turning 16 Palema is her name. My little brother is turning 9. We’re more closer than ever. My name is Palesa Michaela Phillips and this is my story. Put your seatbelts on it’s going to be one crazy ride. Adios!.

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