Say it

That was the end of the road. He had to say something. She turned and gave him warm hug…he liked it. He always enjoyed the sensation he had when their chests were pressed that close together. He looked into her eyes. Her big eyes. He thought how beautiful they were. He remembered how the eyes had first attracted him to her. He always kept it to himself. He just stares blankly into her big beautiful eyes… he does not realize it but he gets lost in them. She looks so very pristine, with her hair, braided, pushed neatly toward the back save for two…the two lonely strands…one atop each eye, hovering, and sometimes crossing each other…beautiful, he thought. Her red lips just sat there…he fought every wish of his body to plant a kiss right there….how could he? They were in public…and that was Kenya. He came back to his senses…well half of his senses. It was 10 o’clock on a Monday evening. He was nowhere near his home…no closer to his bed. He was carrying luggage…a big black suitcase. It seemed small…but looks deceive. It weighed him down, literally. It was heavy…but he wrestled with it as though his very existence depended on it. He had to try…he was not the strongest guy in the world…he always doubted if he could even make the top half…but try was all he had to. He was a shadow of what he used to be before he met her. He ate different, he walked different, he talked different…he was different. He was oblivious of it. He thought of the one thing he wouldn’t do for this belle standing in front of him…he found only one, he would never leave her. In a moment of weakness he wondered just if she would do the same for him. That if she held him as dear just as he did. If she would catch a grenade for him, or maybe just a stone. His own conscience betrayed him. Cursed him out. Spat at his thoughts and called him stupid for having them. His conscience knew better, he thought. In his mind he had a good thing, despite the grapevine he heard. He only cared about one person’s opinions. He wants to tell her that she is the best thing that has happened to him yet. He wishes to tell her that she is and always will be the better part of his day. He wishes to tell her that as he looks into her eyes, it is like the very first time he looked into them. It dawns on him that 3 weeks without seeing her would seem an eternity to him. He wishes to tell her that he would miss her…very much. But he doesn’t say it. He wishes to tell her that she meant the world to him. She has his heart and he knows this. He doesn’t say it. He has the words, he has the courage, he has the moment but the heart, he is without. The heart to take what would ensue after he said those three letters. The heart to be in love alone. He hears his name. What a lovely voice. He has been rescued from her eyes. It has been 5 minutes and he just stood there. She hears her ticket number called out. She starts to let go…he doesn’t want her to but he has to. Time was running out, he had one last shot…he arranged his words, mastered up his courage, took a deep breath,”Goodbye!”. She walked away, gracefully. He hoped it wasn’t the last time he saw her. He was gutted at himself, ashamed if you may. He promised himself that he would do things differently next time, but would he really?

The struggle

I sat there staring at the wall. I had just gotten home from school, a hard day it was. I was expected to sleep. On my bed I sat, thoughts flooding my mind. It was mid august. August was always a hot month…well, not cold. The experts warned us to expect cold weather…and they were right..,it was freezing….but I sat there…exposed, weak, vulnerable. I had taken off all that I had clad…it was freezing…but I didn’t feel the cold…it had taken up residence in my heart. I put on some music. At that moment I craved for something melancholic. It is said that feeling the pain, accepting, embracing it, if you may, actually helps with the healing. I figured a melancholic song would do the trick. So I pushed aside the usual. I am big fan of Micheal Jackson… but I just didn’t feel like a smooth criminal nor Billie Jean and there was obviously nothing thrilling in my current predicament. I adored Trey Song’s work. He always had your back when you wanted to move in slow motion…never could nor can let you down when all you wanted to do was put your hands in the air if she was spending the night. But not this time…this time was different. None of them was on my side.So much expectation was heaped onto me. The society…our society. I couldn’t cry…how could i? I was termed a man, and so did the terms come with the package. “Men shouldn’t cry”…”be a man”…the society’s words lingered. Where others would try to find solace in a bucket of icecream, a movie, a box of tissues and all the melancholic sobs the person could manage, I was forced to suck it up.I chose to try find this solace in good old RnB. Rhythm and blues had a way of making you feel better when you heard of someone having it a bad as you…or even worse. I chose to go with  Bruno mars…he told me I needed morphine to get the pain away. As easy as they come, and so will they easily go.I threw some Ed Sheeran into the mix. I was a mess inside out…searching for a sweet surrender with no end. He had some good and not so good advices. It was alright to cry, he said, don’t wipe your eyes, the tears only remind you that you are alive. It was alright to die…that’s the only thing I hadn’t tried.   Then there was NeYo, then there was the backstreet boys, a little bit of Adele. I stopped at Adele because of obvious reasons.
The dark, cold room was quiet…the music was in play. They say that when you are exuberant you hear the lyrics but you understand the message when feeling low. I did not hear a word. I was too clouded. My brain could not fathom what had just happened. I asked how but mostly WHY!I thought I knew this person…I thought had this person’s loyalty, earned it infact, I thought I had this person’s admiration…you think you know someone. One moment you are flying, the next you are hurtling down to the ground. I had already crashed. I was hurting, betrayed, disappointed, wounded. It was all new to me…my heartbreak virginity had been taken from me in such a gut-wrenching fashion. No Rnb track could ever prepare you for the feeling you get after such betrayal nor would it give you satisfying solutions as to how you would cut that feeling off. Life didn’t come with instructions so you sit tight and watch as life unravels the surprises it has set for you.
You realize that it’s almost 3 o’clock and you have an assignment due at 8am the very next day. You are disoriented, cold and hungry. You spend the next half hour under that hot shower but it doesn't seem to remove the coldness that is inside, you try to eat but you are unable. The only thing logical to do is snuggle up…but the sand man denies you the pleasure of his warm embrace. You are laying in bed, tossing and turning. The devil creeps in, furnishes you with a spectacular idea of getting even. The wheel turns so quickly, he says, here is a way to ensure your side is on top the next time. Against the wish of every muscle in your body, you push the idea aside. A tear escapes your eye. Curse my left eye, he was much too weak. You pray to your lucky stars that you manage to hold on through that night.
Some say that love is a river, that drowns the tender reed…A razor, that leaves your soul to bleed. I say it’s a game, that only the strong get the podium finish. It causes to change, do things we never dreamt we would…it excites…it takes us to the moon…it renders us vulnerable…it hurts. But you still go out looking for it…because it’s the only thing you know. The pain experienced in searching for love does make it all worthwhile when it is eventually found.