I am so hung up on the past and the present and the future that I can barely breathe in the now. This...right here, is nothing but some huge mystery to me and what sucks is that I am falling in way too deep to clutch at anything. They say that a sinking or is it dying man- clutches at a straw?
Well, there are no straws here but the endless wonder of "what if?"
You promised me that there would be no more "what ifs" and no more breakdowns- but this is nothing like that, is it? This is more like a meltdown, is it not?
I have been waging this major war and you are not letting me win- even when you are down and outnumbered- so here I am, telling you to just sink it!
Just forget it all!
Do not dare tell me that I will be alright. I don't want to be alright! I want to be! Just to be- and these words and this time is all I have- and before you go telling me that it's a gift- a talent that most people don't have, just look right through me and let my torture set you free. Listen to my words, live them, love them, hate them- just let them breathe right into you!
So, when he said it was going to be fine- he was right.
When she said I could be anything I wanted she was right!
When she said that she'll always love me no matter how many tonnes of crazy I pull off, she was right!
When he broke his promises, he was right. When she kept hers she was right! They were all right- because right now it seems like this huge maze and here I am rambling hoping that one or even just a fragment of someone reading this would get it! But we both know that is possible- maybe because words kill- they define or attempt to describe something and as such they completely deny that thing the space to breathe and thrive. You also know that it is not over because no matter how many times I say I would not- I collect them. I watch people, buy pens and pencils and books. I hear what they say, what they feel and instead of letting it just be- I immediately think of my pen and paper- and you know that there will be a day when he'll finally get it. The day when I will run no more but stay still and let myself fall, not because it is worth it, but because I want the story to be lived and felt and stay untold- and until then, only you know that I will get a cup of coffee and think to myself...."what was that all about?"
And if he gets this, he'd be proud of his Daughter.
He'd simply look down on me and say "Nyakisa! You are something else." And that would be enough because they knew already- she knew, my sister knew and now...the whole world knows, that I love pens and pencils and books!
PS: And Coffee too :-) and Music...okay, yeah...I love those three!