Musings

I like new relationships. How you wake up with a smile on your face for no reason. How you are always smiling while looking at your phone. How you are oblivious of everything else that is happening apart from what he said and how you feel. How everyone else who points out the obvious is now the enemy. How a single ring with that name on the screen makes you drop things in a heartbeat. How you develop new interests like going for rugby games that do not make sense to you. How you change your routine to accommodate someone else. How you consult on decisions that you would have taken up on your own, what’s not to like.

For someone who likes such, I have not kept relationships that long… once that ship sails, it’s like I am looking for the first port of call and I’ll willingly let it dock. I do not believe in sweet nothings, I do not believe in third chances and once the two are out so is that flame. Akin to Lady Gaga’s million reasons, I just need one good one, a really good one to stay and so far I have had none.

I have only recognized love in the form I give. If it is something I would not do in the name of love, why would someone do that for me? I realize Jesus said love your neighbour as you would love yourself and maybe their action is exactly how they would treat themselves, both the extravagant lover and the stingy lover because one can’t pour from an empty cup.

I have mistaken love for stupidity because I am a fairly logical person. I do not stunt and I pretty much think before I act. So why you would use your last coins to buy me a gift instead of your lunch is beyond me. I would buy myself the food because out of the same love I know you would rather have a healthy me than a beautiful gift and that is also what I would want for you. What I forget is that you will get me the gift to see that smile on my face and not because you have not thought of buying the food, but because that’s just how you love.

My friends think I am a sucker for happy endings. I tell them that as much as I can control the ending of the story, I would make it a happy one. It’s the only opportunity I have because life as we know it is full of surprises. I want to be that bride who cries on her wedding day, that mother who cries when the doctor hands over the newborn child, that random person who tears when the news is just too good that you lack words to express yourself. Tears of joy are the real deal! If I am going to shed a tear I want it to be out of the abundance of joy.

I saw this draft when contemplating what my next post should be. It was untitled.. I read the unfinished post and my reaction was damn!! You mean, that girl writes! I had thought of 22 lessons before 23 but many people have that and the lessons are the same across the board. As it has been evident in these 10 months of writing, Yes!! like a full pregnancy term, we will soon be having an anniversary and hopefully we will reach the 1000 readers mark. A writer divulges parts of themselves in the writing process. Much as one tries to keep the writing separate from the personal, it oozes from the diction.

Night passed when she was twenty three. She had dark beautiful flawless skin. When I look at my photo hard enough, I see her in me. I see that dark beautiful flawless skin. I do not talk about her. No one has in a long time. We mention her, we think of her. She’s like a cloud, ever present, lingering but no one mentions it. When clouds gather and you mention that they are dark indicating rainfall, we mention our cloud on Christmas eve. That is when it gets dark enough and we have to acknowledge the presence of the cloud.

It now adds up… I was 9. It has always felt just like the other day. I try digging up memories and the ones that come up are never enough. I was only 9, there is not so much one can remember from such a young age. This is when I knew how losing someone you love hurts. It did not matter that then, I knew she was in a better place. She was strong in her faith. At 23 Night loved singing hymns. She loved cleaning. I remember her scrubbing the bath tub and the kitchen tiles. I clean when I’m anxious or stressed out and it calms me. At only 9 I had to let go of someone I love.

The concept of loss has been revisited in my life. It is true that grief is the price we pay for love. The reason why I willingly let my ship dock at the first port of call is because I do not want to pay the price for love. It is too dear. The tears sting your eyes, food becomes unpalatable, tasteless. My friends will tell you I love cooking. I spend my money ordering good food every once in a while. I want that good taste so bad that I would rather skip a meal that is not well cooked than force it down my throat. I do this because I know how it feels when you are in so much pain that your favourite food is tasteless. I guard the places I love so much because I know how empty they feel when you visit and the person you used to go with is no longer there.

I love happy endings because I do not know if I will have one. I enjoy attending weddings because I dream of that one day. It may seem that I do things impulsively but I have known death at a young age and there is just no time to wait. I love celebrating birthdays because I know that the next one is not a guarantee. I take risks with extreme sports like bungee jumping and travelling with an unknown crowd because death still finds you in the comfort of your bed. It may seem such a pessimistic way to live but it is quite the opposite. I relish every single day I do not hit my minimus against furniture. I buy the best, extravagant taste at times because if not now when? I read fiction because I get to live another character’s life just between those covers and enrich my own with their experiences. I choose fun and laughter over everything because I have known pain. At twenty three, I will only cry tears of joy!