Dear Kwazi

Dear Kwazi,


I can't believe I was ever with you, worse, I can't believe I cried over and over because of some stupid, selfish, idiotic move that you pulled every now and then. What the hell was I doing liking you in the first place? Am I attracted to guys who treat me like crap? No, I know I should be treated like a princess; you were just one of my mistakes. How did that even happen? 

Nothing about you was what I was looking for, every time I wrote down pros and cons on you the cons always outweighed the pros…significantly!



Well, not everything was all bad, the sex was pretty good, wish that could constitute into a relationship. You had no romantic bone in you, you scream at me, took me for granted, ignored me, flirted with girls I would pass on the streets, left me out in the cold so many times and I forgave you, even when you poured your beer on me and hit me. Jesus! what the hell had possessed me?! No way that's love, no damn way!!!



Even your best friend looked at me constantly with eyes that seemed to ask, "What the hell are you doing with this nigger?" sigh! I don't see how that could have happened for a reason. It was drama and crap I could have done without.



Remember when I came all the way to your house from mine, across Nairobi, the day before my exams because you asked me to and played PS the whole time, ignoring me, four straight hours! Then you had the audacity to say I was overreacting when I didn't talk to you for an hour?!! The nerve!! Remember when you finally decided to discuss it and you said you don't belong to anyone hence owe no one no explanation? The time my shoe cut in the middle of town and you made me hobble all the way to where you were on one foot, across two roads at rush hour while you waited in a restaurant that had a Bata right next to it?



Remember when you went to out of town for your boy's birthday on a Friday night, ignored all my texts and then in front of people we both knew, proceeded to try kiss that fat bitch? It was worse that she didn't want to kiss you; you were being the ungrateful pig that you'll always be and forcing your tongue down her throat. Then you come back to my house and act all broody for me, making me think that maybe I'd done something to upset you? Fuck you.

When you told me yu don't want me leaving clothes in your house you had enough women's clothes already, then went ahead to list names of your former girls' under stuff and shit that was still hanging in your closet? I cried all night after I took my stuff, then still replied your text when you holad, that's right, calls were a rare treat.

When you went to Tz, drunk, made merry in ways I may never find out then decided calling me a week later after days of silence and thought telling me you missed me would cut it. Really, Kwazi? Really?! I don't wait forever you know.



Then I got tired of being in an un-defined relationship, however 'exclusive' we were and demanded something more and you all but ignored me, like a wailing child who'd finally exhaust herself to sleep. Well, I finally exhausted myself and moved on to the next guy, something I should have done centuries ago!

It was because I let you have your way that I accepted so many things that I would normally recoil from, but you made it look like it was your way or the highway. Why the hell did I let you do that?!



I wish we could take back time, give you a taste of your own medicine, you'd never ignore me again. Ever! But I guess in nature's twisted, sadistic way you taught me how to take shit over and over and still finish first. Yes, Kwazi, I won in the end; my victory is still tinged with a bitter, angry taste in mouth, but it's a victory all the same. The thought that I could be anything other than the winner here defeats me. In the end, you wanted what I'd been crying for and at the risk of sounding desperate dare I say, begged for.



You let a good thing go, no, don't be sad, you saved me from that disaster. The world is a happier place coz you were an ass for the last coupla months, it finally occurred to me that I was chasing a loser who didn't even have the good mind to realize that I was way out of his league, that I was the settler and he, the ambitious reacher. The universe gave you an opportunity, an open door to be with someone you would otherwise never have had the good chance of being with and you ducked and let it whizz past you, only decided to chase after it when it was too late and the opportunity had found another home. Screw you for leaving me an angry woman. Screw you for all the bitterness I harbor towards men to this day. Screw you for all the lost faith I have now. Screw you for almost severing my last romantic bone that believes in happily ever after; white picket fences with rose bushes.



When you told me you loved me, I instantly forgave all the crap you'd put me through. Didn't even know I was that forgiving, but I forgave each time you did something shitty and apologized with an "I love you." It took me forever to realize you only told me you loved me when you were on something or a cocktail of stuff. Then you realized I had finally had enough, suddenly it didn't take so much out of you to tell me you loved me, to appreciate my numerous efforts to keep you happy and loved for, to pay for a meal; suddenly you realized I was worth having around, that I meant something.



I gathered up my skirts, my last remaining ounces of dignity and walked out that door, shutting it firmly behind me. This is me and I bounce back fast, maybe one day I'll forgive you for all the humiliation, heartache, energy and resources I spent on you, one day the shame of what I took may finally leave me and I will finally accept what we had as a distant memory, a mistake I made as a foolish young thing, a wound with a fading scar line.

It's my turn to be happy now, it's time I opened up for opportunities to come my way, it's time I loved me first and everyone else second. I need to be selfish to heal.





Love,
With love,
sincerely, 
screw you,

Lady U.

Dear diary,

I'm having such a dull, long week, which isn't doing much for my writing, sigh! Well, on a brighter note, Friday

I decided to screw living with psychopaths with temperament issues that shouldn't go without therapy both for them and the people who have to deal with them every day. It was getting ridiculous.

I quietly moved out Friday when everyone was at work and left a sticky note on the wall of my empty room. It was cooler that I owned almost half the stuff in the house, guess they'll have to live with un-ironed clothes, un-toasted bread, no water storage, a broken bed where mine lay, two plates, three spoons, that includes teaspoons, one sufuria and a broken mwiko and I got a purple room with peace of mind. God bless girlfriends.


Dimple lives right upstairs, hilarious. God's sense of humour is inspiring. Just when I was beginning to get over him, oh well there must be a reason…

We drank Friday night and I did bad, shameful things to a particular person that I'm not in the least ashamed of. He had it coming. Wish I'd have more memory though…all I have are steamy flashes.
NB less whisky more plotting next time. Of course there's a next time!


Therein ended any action getting, the rest of the week has had little going on, I can't help but wonder though if this is mere coincidence or fate. I guess only time can tell, I hate waiting!! It always takes too long!!



I've become calmer though, maybe I'm maturing, maybe God has finally taken pity and given me grace or maybe even my heart and mind are tired of the monotony.

Sometimes Diary, I wonder if there's a point to all these, I'm beginning to go back to that place where I have full blown conversations and debates with myself, lousdly. I'm beginning to live in my head, a little like if I was on weed, maybe I should turn to weed, atleast in my head stuff would be funny and a bit more surreal…



It's been too long since anything interesting happened in my life, it's getting awful, blasted boring, I want the twisted almost fiction, sick addiction drama that I watch around me every day. Wonder if this is how it'l be if I get saved or something, God doesn't seem like the kind of guy who likes much drama...

Scarves and Sweaters

Jesus or King David, through Jesus knew what they were saying when they said life is a circle; my life is a circle, things always turn out the same damned way every fuckin time!!


 Predictable is good mostly but not when your cycle of men goes like this; meet a guy, think he's cool, funny and awesome, have wild amazing sex, fall in love, while you think you're in love you go out of your way to make him happy and get crazy every time you think your losing him, then you realize that maybe you are losing him so you go through the dejection phase where all you want to do is die, or at least hibernate for like two months ( that's about the time it takes for you to find another awesome, funny, cool guy with out-of-this world sex). 


Then the two months of anger and hurt end and then you look for a sweet innocent boy to torture in about the same way you feel you were tortured and leave him without looking back…every once in a while you decide that perhaps you deserve better so you try out the nice guys who adore you and treat you like a princess, problem is, most of them come with mediocre to horribly monotonous sex and in a couple of weeks your bored out of your mind. 


But it's still predictable, which shouldn't be that bad, now I see five steps ahead the minute I meet an awesome guy and take it like a woman!! No more surprises



Anyway, so lately I've been thinking I just might have met the man who's going to fall madly in love with me and marry me. All the signs point to him being the man I'm ready to settle down with, only one teeny hitch, he doesn't know it yet. That's fine, if this is going to be true love, I have to be patient, let cupid work up his arrows, he might need to sharpen his aim a bit, this particular guy is blind as a bat. Annoying as hell but what can we do but wait.



I just hope one day when we're all drunk I don't profess my undying love and intentions to him, eternally embarrassing myself. Jumping his bones is one thing, flushing my dignity down the drain by swearing I will always love him, he's the man of my dreams, I swear not to ever hurt him if he could just love me back between tequila shots is a totally different thing. I'd move to another town or country, change my number and last name and get married to the first guy who proposed, give him lots of kids and knit sweaters and scarves for the rest of my life.



Maybe I'm being slightly dramatic here; no actually I'm not, far from it.

Three years from now if I come across this article I hope I'll shake my head in wonder at how much I could see into the future, I'm a big believer in fate, almost never believe in coincidences, everything that happens does so for a reason, recent events in my life had better be fate rather than coincidence. Three years from now I'll be engaged to Dimple and planning a white picket fence life with three dimpled kids with my good sense of optimism and his humour.

Call me a dreamer but it’s us guys who get what we dream about, sometimes all we can do is dream and wait our turn. And one day down the road my story will run something like this;

A little ways down the road…a lonely but awesome girl awaited her prince to ride across the woods and sweep her off her feet for she grew weary of the country folk and the plain demure. Her prince had nothing unadorned about him, he was elaborate and exciting and he could do the coolest things with his sword and shield yet he could not be compared to the cocky village men who asked for her hand in marriage. She knew her hand belonged to just one man, but where was he?

Then, one even lonelier day, exhausted by the country folk and their talk on how she would die a lonely, old maid, she sat at the entrance of the woods and wept for her life was turning out to be long and miserable. She disliked being the talk of the town.

Just as she was getting dehydration from all the tears and no water for the stream was a long way down the path into the woods, she heard the familiar sound of hooves beating on the soft forest floor coming steadily in her direction. She looked up, and by golly the most handsome man, riding towards her. “Gasp!” Her heart skipped a beat and then another as he reached down from his horse and held out his hand for her.

She looked right into his deep brown eyes, her tear stained face suddenly bright and hopeful, took his hand and they rode off into the sunset….

 

One, two…

One, two,

Buckle my shoe;

Three, four,

Knock at the door,

Five, six,

Pick up sticks;

Seven, eight,

Lay them straight;

Nine, ten,

A big fat hen.


 
It's so strange how this nursery rhyme reminds me of a nightmare I used to have years ago that was close to the boogey man nightmare we all have.

In the nightmare, I'm running down a dark street really fast, only I can't seem to be moving; behind me is a huge, angry guy with those crazy weapons they carry in horror movies coming closer and closer, weird thing is they never seem to be putting quite the effort I'm putting in the chase. The nursery rhyme is always playing in the background, getting louder and louder, covering my wails and screams from anyone who might care, which is pretty unlikely as the street is dark with no sign of life. He's getting dangerously close, the rhyme is getting louder, "seven, eight, lay them straight.." my fate seems pretty much doomed, my panic is on fever pitch, my fate is pretty much sealed at this point. Then I wake up, and for a few seconds, I lay there wondering how in the hell I escaped certain death.



My nightmares have since grown in maturity, which is pretty ordinary stuff like the man I'm secretly in love with marrying the bitch I can't stand, my name missing from the graduation list on the actual graduation day after my folks have hired a van for my relas, getting herpes, the clap or Chlamydia from the man of my dreams…you know, the usual mid-grown up stuff.


 

Thoughts

Do you sometimes in a rare flashback moment want to go back to your ex and list to him all the messed up things he did that you couldn't stand and never told him before? I've just had one of those moments, and for a split second, ok maybe a couple more seconds, I wanted to go back and scream, "I hated it when you ordered me around and told me who I can and can't talk to, hold hands with or pick calls from, I'd kill you now if you ever pulled me away from a friend I haven't seen in months coz you want my attention and hit you back if you hit me!" I feel slightly better writing it, wish I had the lady balls to pull that off, for now, I'll just have to contend with doing it in my head.


It's raining, been a while since it rained, of course I'm not home, curled up with a good book under a duvet, I'm never that lucky. Sigh! Just seen this on a sight I love to visit, "hi, remember me? You used to smile when you saw me, hug me for no reason, talk to me without any conditions and love me for who I was. Miss that." Glad to know there are a coupla of depressed people out there, we should throw a party, get crazy wasted and ban everyone from showing sad emotion, everything but emotion. No rules, just alcohol, drugs and fun.



Shakespeare wrote;



"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing."

Shakespeare is so bloody depressing!!


Went to church today, was trying to come to peace with some of the crap chicken legs has been putting me through; I mean we're relatives who live together, rarely see each other and barely talk, how he still manages to be such an ass is beyond me. Anyway, I went to church, sang fun, involving songs at praise, connected with God at worship and wrote comprehensive notes during the sermon, went for the alter call when they said they want to pray for those of us with trouble forgiving, almost got saved for the 7^th time and still after that awesome service, I still want to go Tz and look for a witchdoctor to kill him. A slow, painful, miserable death that will have him begging for his end long before it comes, years hopefully, ten long ones if I'm lucky. Nkt! It should worry me that I actually mean every single word I've just typed down…it doesn't.



I seat at my desk pondering on the complexities of youth, I fail to be objective, keep using my own damn scenerios to make my judgments.
So much for promising myself to stay positive and happy this week. It's Monday morning and I want to destroy everything in my way, *sigh!* another week of my increasingly perfect fake smile.



Read my horoscope today, well started reading it, it went something like this, "Every once in a while we all need something or someone to support or reassure us, Cancer, and today your support is likely to come from an unexpected source…blah blah" are these guys even serious? Do they completely rely on the aspect of coincidence? That maybe out of the hundred thousand cancers in the world, at least two should identify with their wise words of the day? Nkt! Maybe I should take turning to the Lord seriously…everything else is turning to be quite hopeless.

Letter to my 16 year old self

Dear 16 year old Lady U,






Life doesn't get too bad after 16, most of the confused haze in your head clears and most of your questions get answered in more ways than one.

You lose all the weight you're struggling with, thank God! So much for all the aerobics, swimming, power walks and self starvation; 8kgs all but melt away the minute you leave high school. Makes me wonder what kind of hormonal shit they were serving us in there. You never lost weight and your hormone levels were on a dangerous high.



You get hot and fierce and you finally build up the courage to wear a bikini. Adios one piece costumes! Writing seems to be our constant we have God to thank for that. Remember when you had those dark days and you'd blame them on hormones and kept telling yourself they'd pass and you couldn't wait till they did? Ha!! They don't, in fact sometimes you walk around with a dark cloud hovering over you, sorry. Well, in a twisted way it's a blessing. Some of your deepest work happens on these days.



Dudes still suck after 16, they suck all through life by what I can tell, sorry, I know you thought dandy long legs was as bad as they came. The variety widens as time passes, it's not even a decade after 16 and in seconds I can name for you ten different kinds. We aren't the easiest people to live with in their defense and good percentages are the way they are because of us so…



You still identify with love songs even when your love life is pitiful; in that small way I know we are romantics. We still want to slow dance, lie on our backs watching the stars, laughter and wine by the fireplace with the rain making patterns of raindrops on the panes, long walks by the water at sunrise, second chances and true love.



I used to think that being 16 was hard; I'm coming to the conclusion that it could be a generational curse, being a woman is so damn hard!

We should be independent but not too independent, it turns them off, we should be go getters but no aggressive, have the judgment to know when to say no, when to say yes, when to stall, when to follow your intuition, the wisdom to differentiate between your gut and what your heart wants. We should also somehow learn to figure out what when to think with your head and when following your heart determines your fate. Jeez!! Its hard work being a woman, we get wiser and stronger as the years deal their blows so try not take everything to hard.



Judging by the years that have passed, what I've gone through and what life has mercifully allowed me to experience second party, you don't really learn fast, it's funny now, won't be as you go through the same stuff over and over again.



I'm starting to sound depressing, let me change the subject. You know how dad keeps forcing you to do B.Comm coz anything that involves doing what you love is a disgrace and makes nobody no money? You show him!! You dodge that bullet thank God, how were we even going to deal with our hate for all things math? Folks can be so damn selfish!!



Next year mum shows you a prospectus for Daystar and you sneer. She gets the last laugh there. The best way to deal with that scenario because she will rub it in is to feign amnesia. You never saw a Daystar prospectus before you went to the school and asked for it. She must be confusing you with one of her other kids. Wasn't you, can't have been.



So far, mum's threats that my husband will take me back because I can't for the life of her get it in my head that women must be tidy, have gained no ground, we still only bother with the right amount of motivation. It's so much work!!



Lastly, 16 year old me, we learn to love us for the dark, moody, laughing, loudmouth, silly girl that we are. In the end, we only have us to look out for.




                                             love,
                                                                           22 year old lady U






                                                                                                                
 

 

 

It’s times like this…

It's a starry night; my head is stuck in the clouds, I don't want to come down, the view is amazing. 


The dark midnight skies; the stars right ahead of me, surrounding me, lighting up the whole sky, a serene, quiet light filling all the pockets of darkness around me. I don't want to have to come back to earth, here where I am, no one can touch me, nothing could possibly go wrong, it's quiet, the sky around me emitting a tranquil glow. Here everything goes my way, we laugh when nothing is funny, up here it's just me and you, no earthly poisons working at destroying us, just me and you and the magic between me and you. Up here we have no rules, we rule the world, nothing but our love matters, so long as the stars shine when they do and the moon follows its cue and the shooting stars remain just that; all we do is laugh and dance and walk through the times.


 It's beautiful here, we have the world at our feet, you walk I follow, you hold out your hand in between clouds, there's laughter in your eyes, the pain is replaced by contentment, the hard lines on your forehead soften to distant creases representing the faraway times light years ago. All pretenses forsaken, this is how it should be, an imperfect peaceful joy. This is where I want to hang out, please don't make me come down!! No!!




Reality, that's just cold.





Ok, I'm back. There are no stars, it's a dark night with a slice of crescent, reminds me of those nights that creatures of the night prey on silly travelers of the night, where on earth would anyone possibly be headed at this hour anyway? There is no gentle breeze it's still and clammy. Watching reruns of Glee and wishing I could sing like they can. I'd sing through my days, annoy the hell out of everyone around me. I'd sing instead of talk, get everyone jealous, possibly why God chose to give me a quiet gift instead. He considered His creations' sanity, perhaps His too.



This week I made a promise to myself that I'd start praying, try make it habit and not think of God as this Huge guy seated somewhere within the sky looking down at me, shaking His head at me with a permanent frown coz I never seem to do anything right, not anything that matters to Him anyway, doubt He cares much about my diet plans, my baby project blog or the 27 out of 30 I got in my marketing paper or my new goal to quit cursing like a sailor.



So here I go, Thursday morning, ok almost morning, my prayer before I sleep;



How's it going Lord,

I know I promised to talk to You more often but I also asked you to make me a more positive and influential person, so far nothing has changed. Still pessimistic ol' lady U. so I guess we're kinda even. But since we can't keep playing the silent game, I will be the bigger person here. So far my week has not gone without incidence, thank you for that Lord, You know I can't live a drama-free life, what would be the point of living? Also, Lord, thank you for the constant heat and blue skies though it wouldn't hurt if every two days you gave us less sun, more cool weather, and not a storm Lord, You have a tendency to do stuff on the extremes like that downpour You gave us on valentines. I don't mean to sound selfish or anything, but why would you choose my most miserable day, couple it with the fact that I forgot my sweater and umbrella home, get rid of all the vendors near school who sell umbrellas then introduce into us a storm so heavy and long!? That wasn't fair, my hair almost didn't recover.



Anyway Lord, I'm thankful for your presence in my life, however silent you sometimes go, I have this feeling that a lot of things could have gone wrong on so many incidences but you saw me through. I have a lot to thank you for. Thank you for the times I laugh, the courage to cry, the anger you help me mask so well and the lessons You've taken me through and helped me learn. Your really patient, I tend to forget my lessons then you have to remind me, though Lord, sometimes I think You get carried away with me, looking back, you accorded me some really bitter pills. I don't think all five of them were necessary, but I guess you're God, you know best. I think I've learnt my lessons though, just a suggestion.



Ok, on to things I want, please let me make it through this semester without any mishaps, it's the busiest I've had, the work load is starting to get frustrating and my patience levels are dangerously low. If I don't graduate next year I'll be the laughing stock of all my peers. I think we both agree my ego can't take yet another blow. That's all I want for now, well, since you're Lord, you could go through my heart and fish out the other wishes I'm modestly storing away..there should be one or two tucked in there somewhere.

As I sleep, all I ask for is a deep, dreamless sleep, honestly dreams are over rated, mess my sleep patterns, after the dramatic end, I wake up and it's always too early and I'm exhausted.
Amen.


 

Dear Diary,

Today was one of my pensive days where I think through most of the day and end up getting so caught up in my own head I sometimes speak out loud by accident then I have to ignore all those stares I get from strangers. Hey, I figure strangers are better than people you know. Strange looks beat the frightened looks people you know give you.



I want to live near a body of water so I can have those tranquil, thought-filled moments that inspire life changing decisions...too much tarmac and dust in Nairobi.


Anyway, I barely slept last night; hate it when your brain decides to go on overdrive the opportune night that needs you to sleep early. Hours and hours of thoughts that refuse to settle down. Woke up groggy and pissed off at the world. Made it to class an hour minutes late; everything just seemed to go wrong! The shower water was dirt brown, as in a dark, muddy brown that I realized just when I'd gotten under the water with my white underwear. My first instinct was to scream, then punch something. It got clear after awhile; it was too late for my two week old undies. Sigh! Couldn't find anything to wear, tried out jeans, then linens, then a dress, a skirt, another dress, half an hour later settled on my original jeans. My hair was all wrong, smudged my eye pencil all over my left eye when the phone rang and startled me. It was J, she thought she was late for her class; she was in school wondering if it was worth it. I was home still half dressed. We had a guest speaker in class, had to go.



Got to class and our lecturer was going on about not deserving to eat when you don't work…Sigh! I swear Diary we learn more theology than communication in that school!! I sat down, opened my alternative notebook that serves as my journal stroke idea drafter stroke list maker, bought it when I realized my school books have more of my personal life notes than actual school work, you must separate your torture from your pleasure. Sure there's a saying somewhere that goes like that. The class is Christianity and Media, I half listened half scribbled anything off the top of my head. 
They thought a pastor/ lecturer was best suited to teach us. Thanks to my school, I think I can now sit through a five hour sermon and not hear a single word while maintaining a vaguely interested look complete with eye contact and a few comments at the right pauses.

Today was one of those "what if" days where I questioned my decisions. Everything I've done especially in the recent past seems to have had an equal and opposite reaction that may have turned out better. Couldn't wait for class to end, couldn't wait for the day to end!!



The highlight of my day was seeing my cousin in hospital. Things must be really bad if hospital is the best part of my day. I went armed with spicy chicken wings, thought I should get something healthier but chicken wings really boost one's mood, shy spoil that effect with boring fruit or lucozade? He's such a sport. Even in poor health and pain, he somehow manages to make humor out of the most disheartening situations, listen to my melodrama, whining and bitching and still offer genius advice, well, as genius as a guy's advice on a girl's issues can be. There still pretty clueless on women issues. My one hour visit extended through the afternoon and into the evening.



Got Dexter at my dvd joint and came home. It was quiet, just me. I used to have a life, what happened to all those Friday nights I was out halfway drunk by 9? The saddest part is that now I rush home on Friday nights so I can enjoy the calm. It used to be eerie silence now I love it!! I cannot be growing old at 22! Can I? But Dexter kicks ass! Sure a lot of people on the rave wish they had something to keep them in.



Woke up to chicken legs and his girlfriend having one of their lover's tiffs, something he'd done on the rave. The door slamming, fiery curses and abuses was a welcome relief from the sickening, happy, romantic blissful phase they've been going through.



Finally diary, the day is over. 
Cannot dare publish this with my eyes half open, the errors will be crazy. Till tommorrow..

Can’t Sleep

It's these strange hours of the night that my writing inspiration peaks…doubt that says anything about me as a person, guess it's the only time of the day I'm truly by myself, surrounded by the peaceful sounds of the night. Except for the constant rattling in my head, everything else here is still. It would be nice if my brain borrowed a leaf.



I'm a fairly negative person, unlike some people; it takes considerable effort to maintain hope and faith. I've just read possibly the most depressing romance novel I've come across in my life, should have just put it down when I stumbled upon the first glimpses of depressing love. The dimming romantic facet I somehow still possess led me to turn each page with the hope of true love prevailing. Why do I even bother? Now here I am, all sentimental and moody. I feel spent, like I just watched my best years fly by on a lost notion. No more romance, hardcore crime, justice and thriller novels from now on! No way I'm quitting the novels, apart from my increasingly fervent daydreams, they're my only escape from this cruel world to a more world where all the bad things don't happen to me for a change and I have the luxury of pitying someone not directly affiliated to me. It's a refreshing change.



Mostly my life is boring, or it sucks with little to none sober happy moments, but as I sit on my bed, painting my nails an uncharacteristically girly, glittery colour, I wonder if I would prefer this to the blissfully oblivious lives so many people I know lead. Would I rather not know and be happy? Rather paint the glaring facts with pastel colours of oblivion or gullibility or know and live disheartened with little faith of anything anymore?

Paused to think about it while I applied the top coat and blew at my fingers and I still can't figure it out. Does the truth always set you free? Does the truth always come out? Could shutting your eyes to the truth be a happier way to live? Don't know; maybe. I'm beginning to think not knowing is less miserable. Every truth I know that was intended to stay secret tortures me to no end. Telling someone always relieves me of the burden and transfers it to the unsuspecting person.



My cousin is sleep talking in a really angry voice...

The past few nights without electricity were extremely annoying but they taught me a few things about myself; my imagination is a survival mechanism. I learnt how to talk myself to sleep, well that took a couple of hours but eventually worked, I talked about stuff I would rant about, sucky school, my nothing-is-happening life, crappy men, the bitches…the usual moppy things that ran through my mind most of the time…then I discovered a better way to lull myself to sleep. Fairy tales! My very own, edited versions of all the fairy tales I know. They all end with death or broken necks, spinal injuries, hemorrhages, bleeding brains…the usual.



Hansel and Gretel got beat to death by their evil step mum. 


Jack fell down from the beanstalk, got a spinal injury that left him paralyzed from waist downwards and spent the rest of his days on a wheelchair made of the pieces of the beanstalk that came tumbling down with him. 


Thumbelina got squashed to a small pulp, 


Cinderella found the man of her dreams at the ball, but at the last minute, her foot got swollen from the beating her ugly stepsisters gave her and he wasn't convinced it was her, turns out she was a size six like one of her stepsisters; he had no choice but to marry her and she lived happily ever after. Can't speak for the poor prince. 


The prince supposed to arouse sleeping beauty from her enchanted sleep got destructed by a pretty, horny elf and never did make it on time… you get my drift. I was out like a light in an hour.