I get that it hurts you,there’s nothing i could say or do now to help you understand where i‘m coming from

vs

She is a lying manipulative bitch and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to fix her bad behavior,it is who she is.

Thing is,everyone (almost) believes they are not evil and that as much as they agree to be faulted to something,they circle it back to the reason or circumstance that drove them to that decision or action.

e.g I believe the reason i kissed your friend is because me and you were over and I was so emotionally hurt by your actions while we were still talking,your friend is the one who initiated it and as much as i regret doing that,i’m not an evil person.

However ,when it comes to understanding another persons perspective,we tend to believe that that’s just who they are,that its their character and a personality flaw rather than the initial reasoning.

e.g she kissed my friend because she is disloyal and wanted to hurt me ,lowkey she’s giving hoe vibes but i guess that’s just who she is.

Due to this fundamental attribution error,we subconciously twist the story in favor of us,ignoring our participation to what actually took two to tango and we eventually end up vilanizing the other person and painting ourselves as the victim,sometimes unintentionally so. If you have the balls to base someones character based off a one time incident,hear says and personal feelings without trying to evaluate the situation,you are not so much better off. Two things can be true at once,people are fucked,a matter of personality flaw and general character ,but believing that your situation is different compared to theirs is hypocritical of you,especially if the mistake you’ve been in a similar slip up,worse or as to your judgement less e.g najua i also did shit at some point but hiyo yake ni too much…..(two things can be true at once but such phrases are the ones misleading us to believe some people are worser devils)

Today,being the first person to apologize or take accountability in an already toxic situation automatically makes you the villain,and that’s why our egos are fatter that the christmas bull,and our ability to have a healthy communication to resolve things gets lower day by day,we end up losing connections because we already have an established version of the kind of person they are based on the analysis we’ve done so nothings good is gonna come out of that conversation.We are allergic to uncomfortable talks ,accountability and explanations.A connection ending is not the issue here,it is the way it ends.Zero communication,effort to fix something just because we do not want our egos bruised.We have turned not tolerating bullshit to having absolute zero patience and grace to our friends,the same patience and grace we expect from them if we are put in the same position.

For the truly valuable connections ,we need to have the uncomfortable talks more ,take accountability more,listen more, do more self evaluation,be more patient and apologize more.Try to fix it rather than taking the shortcut….and eventually if you’ve given it your best ,it’s also okay to walk out,to let go knowing you did your best.

(i barely know anything about overly toxic relationships/friendships…so i guess this doesn’t apply to that <3,xx

)

‎But if it turned out that I decide d to keep it,this is what I would do.

I would sit with myself everyday....caress my baby bump and tell the baby inside...she is loved,she is awaited and she is truly a blessing to me.I would buy her clothes and decorate her room with my bare hands ,,hoping she feels the amount of love i have for her when she pops ou

t

.

‎And when she’s finally here,oh baby I would love her,till she chocked(not literally). I would nurse her and feed her,she would have been the chubbiest baby ever .And when I gave her a bath,I would tell her how much I love her,how even though I am not myself anymore,even though my life has been put on hold because of her,I still love her and she’s worth more than everything else.

(PS;maternal ambivalence especially when the baby is a new born can sometimes be as a result of postpartum depression rather than other external and internal factors,therefore i speak from the perspective of a healed mother and i do not judge any new mum for feeling some typa way towards her babyyy ,xx)

‎I would put her to sleep and sing her one specific song, hoping that every vocal and melody of it is etched in her heart forever .Then I’d kiss her goodnight and take a bit of time for myself,so that i don’t let the thoughts i bottle up in me explode on her.

‎

‎When she grows into a curious young girl, questioning the existence of everything.I would hold her and answer her tenderly,I would lover her softly.Pack her lunch with extra love as she goes to school and kiss her goodbye,but before that, I’d sit her in the mirror in the morning as I clothe her....tell her she is the most beautiful thing ever seven times,point at her wide ears and tell her they remind me of the petals in the garden and tell her how much loved and important she is.

‎When she is a young preteen girl, I’d support her dreams regardless of the delusions.I would attend the games at school in that phase she thinks football is her future ,I would go to her music festivals and still support her bad singing and recitals,I would tell her she’s great .I would let her think and experiment with my clothes when she thinks she’s gonna be a model or a big Hollywood actress.I would let her do her make up on me and take lots of photos .I would support her ,and guide her and not just make her follow a path that I wanted to but failed,I would let her experience her life and not live in the shadow of mine.

And when she’s sick or sad, I’d straighten out her bedsheets ,make her favorite dish and snuggle beside her to watch her shows.I would hold her until she sleeps and kiss her goodnight.I wouldn’t call her lazy or disoriented.

‎

‎If I was her mother,a mother to a young woman , blossoming like lilies day by day...I would correct her with love.I would let her know that it is constructive criticism and not any maliciousness directed to her because as usual...I love her . I’d tell her I love her a million times until she gets bored of it.I would tell her about my young woman hood.I would tell her the mistakes I did hoping she doesn’t do the same.I would warn her about men,and before I let her go,into the world by herself,I’d let her know that my home is forever hers and she could come back anytime that she needed to. I’ll tell her of the great dreams I had at that age and I would let her tell me hers.And I would let go chase her dreams with my prayers on her back,and watch her accomplish every great thing I ever did and more.

‎I’d love her so much if I really wanted her in my world,man or no man.Because I know how it feels to not have experienced that.

‎But I am not my mother,and I don’t have a daughter....and I’m selfish enough to admit that I don’t think I have the patience and sacrifice in me,to raise a daughter in a way I would have wanted to be raised.

‎So who am I to judge my mother?

‎

‎Oh yeah?...sure!

‎Not until you are an innocent grade two student sobbing your heart out because you missed on a school trip that almost everyone is going to......how could you expect to go to that when you already know the situation at home?Nevertheless the only reason you are in a private school is because its an NGO sponsored orphanage and somehow your mum managed to convince the diraector to admit you.When poverty has found a way to make your mother aware of every coin that enters and leaves the house ,in that the last time that ugly five cornered 5 bob disappeared belts ran through you and your siblings skins until the little one was outed for stealing it to buy sweets,as punishment,she didn’t eat dinner that day. (even dinner is such a fancy word to use for the food you ate that night)

Money doesn’t buy happiness

oh yeah?…. sure!

Until you attend the family gathering at the end of the year,when you and your sibling are the one doing almost all the errands as the more privileged cousins sit on shosho’s vintage couches sipping soda (and those couches really are a big deal). Until your mum is the one battling smoke to make meals as the other privileged members sit under the tree talking about the ‘state of the country’. Not until your raggedy self in your raggedy clothes are told to go play when there is an important visitor coming.Not until the happiest you’ve been is when you got the hand me down clothes from your privileged cousins because they don’t fit them anymore,thing is that doesn’t end there,by accepting the pity gifts ,you brace yourself to hear how much they’ve helped you

‎

‎Money doesn’t buy happiness

‎Oh yeah? Sure!

‎Not until you are the brightest student in your class but has the dimmest future because your parents don’t know where they’ll get the money to take you to high school,so ,all you have in you is hope,a light that dims day by day.Not until you get the admission letter to that prestigious national school you’ve always dreamed of after you emerge top student in kcpe but instead of joy and celebration,nights afterwards are filled with prayers from your mum even though she sounds like she doesn’t believe in the miracle she’s hoping for,so she turns to calling the local secondary school headmaster begging him to give you a chance at the school,and all he says is;

‎“uyo mtoto wako ni too bright for this school plus we’ve reached the student limit”

‎

‎Money doesn’t buy happiness

‎Oh yeah?....sure!

‎Until you are the kid who has to watch the other kids get the finer things in life while you stand by not daring to ask for that because that makes you a greedy ungrateful bitch,or when you do,you get the beating of of your life....be content ,they say.

Until you grow up as the shyest person because you’ve been conditioned to believe that finer things belong to certain people,until the guilt of wanting luxury eats your neck because you think you are being ungrateful for wanting more,luxury and comfort as you were used to struggle for the basic stuff.

‎Money doesn’t buy happiness

‎Oh yeah?....sure!

‎Until you are in uni trying to balance a million things ....all hungry and broke and still get a call from your younger sister asking for money to plait her hair for school,but you can’t say no....the eldest daughter in you would die of guilt to say no to her,because you know how it feels to lack completely,so you,in one way or another,find a way.

‎Money doesn’t buy happiness

‎Oh yeah?...sure!

‎Until you are alone at night, kilometers away from your family.... bare, rent is due,hundred of needs uncatered to, crying yourself to sleep , going through your contacts wondering who to call,yet no one to call,at least no one who could actually help you out.Plus you are not that vulnerable...so you’d rather suffer in silence than ask people you are not close to help.

‎

‎

‎(I don’t believe that money is the ultimate key to happiness,but saying money doesn’t buy happiness is such a privileged take.And until you are in the hot seat,you wouldn’t know how high the temperatures get .)

‎

‎

‎I hope so too,I hope he knows how badly I want to receive flowers,how I'm yet to make a decision on what my favorite flowers are as I'm yet to receive the different type of flowers there are.I hope they don't just come on my birthday or our anniversary,I hope he randomly sends flowers,be it when I have a bad day,good news or just because.I'd probably dry the petals and store them in a jar with the wild hope that we'll use them again somehow.I'd fold the wrappers neatly and store them in a box as a reminder of how loudly and beautifully he loves me.And like the lilies blooming ,I hope our love does that.I hope we love each other in a soft yet loud way.Not performative but in a way that doesn't need validation So yes I hope he buys me flowers

‎I hope he holds your (my)hands

‎I hope his love language being physical touch is not just sexual,rather it is soft and gentle, reassuring in the most possible way.Him holding my hand because I am his,not in a possessive way but in a way that screams care and love.I hope we hold each other's hands through the different things we experience,be it a win or loss,grief or a rebirth and I hope he never lets go when things get too hard.I yearn to rub his arms to show him I'm present when he thinks he is alone,and I hope I never let go.So yes I hope he holds my hand

‎

Give you(me) all his hours when he has the chance

‎I hope we love each other loud,when it's convenient or not,show up for each other and incorporate each other in our lives as much as we each still have our shit going on.I hope that forever is a word in our book and if not....for as long as it lasts .I hope we respect each other even in absence and I hope we love each other like tomorrow is not promised

‎

‎Take you(me) to every party,cause I remember how much you loved to dance

‎

‎Above all I hope we are fun. I hope my bubbly personality,my need to actually have fun and me sometimes wanting to drink and dance my weariness away doesn't drive him nuts or change how he sees me.I hope we support each other's interests and be so eager to let each other in .I hope we do this together,I hope we have actual fun and not be victims of always solving something, being mad at each other all the time or the on and off thing.I hope we get to have a bit of each other's firsts and special moments

‎

Do all the things I (he)should have done when I(he)was your (my)man

‎No.....he's not the other man,and neither am I the other girl.He is the man,I hope we are the one for each other and when I bleed from past wounds,I hope he holds me a little bit tighter and gives me some extra loving,I know it's not on either of us to heal each other's past wounds but I hope that when they resurface,I hope we are kind enough to each other to understand.

(Hiyo siku ikifika……aishhhh)

‎

‎

‎

‎

‎Not the poet or the artist as always

‎Can I be the one you look at

‎And see a song or a flower

‎Be the moment

‎Be the reason of why you love that one son

g

‎Can I be the poem,not the poet

‎

‎I love writing,and loving

‎I love writing for the people I love

‎But can I be written to

‎Can you look at me and compose a line

‎Tell me how beautiful I am

‎How my smile is perfect

‎How you love my thinking

‎Through a poem?

‎

‎Always been the poet

‎Never the poem

‎I was wanted,but not loved

‎Held,but never kept

‎I was almost the one,just never THE one

‎Easy to talk to,but hard to love

‎Breath of fresh air

‎But not the reason your heart stops

‎

‎;

‎That's the closest my dad has come to acknowledging me as her daughter.I don't know much about him,but the little I know is enough for me to make a judgement of his character

.

‎

‎Sometimes I love to think that he is hurt and that's why he did some of the things he did,that maybe his parents didn't love him enough,maybe he was burdened by too much responsibility as a child it hardened him to the rock he is today,but no.....some actions and words are inexcusable.So yeah... nothing happy about father's day,and nothing sad about it too.Life got so much easier when I decentred my dad,when I didn't give a damn about what he thought about my grades,when I didn't try to show him my result slip after school because I knew he'd never ask.I wish he knew how much I make fun of our relationship,how my daddy issues are something me and my best friend laugh about because we can't let it weigh us down forever.How.....two men that have never met(him and my best friend's father),are twins in our stories because how they act is a reflection of the partriachy and misogyny their generation carries.

‎

‎He's an easy man to hate and love at the same time.

‎Only that I have spent most of my life doing the latter .He's my dad and he's hurt me,I don't forgive him because forgiveness is granted to those who ask for it,and in his opinion, everything he ever did was for my ultimate good.Fuck no.....I despise him,I would die a failure if I marry a man like him.He is distasteful...but he is my dad still,and the funny thing about it I still have a bit of similarities with him.I wonder what my mum saw in him,was she too vulnerable at the moment,or was he actually a good man at the time.Its hard to believe.....and why doesn't she just decenter him like I try to do.Why does she pretend to be the peacemaker between a man who caused so much havoc on us and traumatized us and the daughter who no longer gives a shit and would traumatize them back if need be.I know they hate to see me coming.....I know it rubs him the wrong way that I no longer crumble at his knees when he shouts.Oh.

‎

‎I envy everyone who still loved their dad after sixteen,every girl who's moods swing when they set eyes on their dad,anyone who says I'll ask my dad,everyone with a great dad who didn't ruin their trust issues and their eternal perception of men and anyone who has hugged their dad enough times they lost count.(Must be nice huh)😂

‎

‎Happy father's day to the dads that actually dad it the right way.To the rest,the narcissistic sperm donors that ran,and came back or not.....the  ones that think creating a human child gives them the leeway to hurt their children,emotionally,physically and in any other way.....Shetani awalambe uso.Literally

‎

‎(I hope y'all don't find this pitiful because I was laughing most of the time aki)

‎

Dear estranged lover,I woke up today and thought about you

‎Just like I do every day

‎And I wonder if you think about me too

‎if you want to reach out as much as I do

‎Or if you still think we need space

‎

‎How could this be so easy for you

‎To never want anything more from me

‎I know you think I need space

‎And maybe that's what you tell yourself and what you'll tell me if I was to ask you this

‎But I wouldn't need space if you made up your mind,would I

‎I would want to live in your skin as a tick does with a cow

I would want to wake up next to you and admire your sleepy eyes.

‎I would have wanted to spend each and every first with you

‎In a perfect world atleast

‎

‎But my world is far from perfect

‎It is muddy , bumpy and dusty

‎It is a world I was trying to love and accept before I met you

‎But when you left ,I hated it more

‎I hated that my world couldn't keep the elements I loved most

‎The prettiest elements

‎The most beautiful part about being able to feel.

‎You

‎

‎It crumbled even more when you left a tiny window open

‎With all the will I had,I fought to widen the opening

‎I saw the tiniest chance to ever be with you again and I took it and run with it.

‎I watered this too much our plant died.

‎And I hated myself for it.....

‎For fighting so hard for someone who couldn't care less

‎For being so annoying, just because I  wanted to be loved

‎To be loved by none other than you.

‎

‎

‎I get that I ruined this, it's on me

‎Because it's easier for me to take the blame,you are perfect in my eyes

‎But I don't want to hate my world anymore

‎I want love it so hard,for myself and for the next person who chooses me

‎I want to be able to choose people and love them for their rights without ignoring their imperfections

‎I want to be happy for you even from afar

‎But I never want to see you again

‎Not until I love this tiny world of me.

‎Not until I think of you again and not hate myself for letting you go.

‎

‎I hope you think of me

‎Atleast half as much as I think of you

‎(third base is me sharing my poems😭)

‎

So I'll cite two real life events before I get to the main point of this article

First time I got my period was during the Christmas holidays when I was in class seven.I knew about menstrual health, from what I had learnt in class  six.I knew my coochie would bleed,I would cramp and that it was normal.But hey, I wasn't half as prepared as I thought I would be,it was an awful and embarrassing experience for me.Not in the ’'I was in school and stained my uniform so the boys laughed at me“ kind of embarrassing.I was at my grandma's place (may her soul rest in peace),I don't remember how I was feeling the whole day but I remember going to the bathroom to take a shower because Shosho wanted me to go get something for her from the 'centre'.I was wearing a black and white skin tight,so when I removed it and saw the red all over,my first thoughts was how to hide this.I thought I could pull it off,but no I didn't.I showered ,washed the tights and hang them and since I didn't have pads or anyone to ask for,I wore all the panties I could find .Like 6 panties bro.....then I went to the centre , feeling gross , embarrassed and conflicted if I should tell my people.They found out themselves anyway,I made it home form the centre and somehow they had figured out,my tights were pretty much soiled ,even after the wash.I don't remember much from the talk,but my mum told me,

‎“See,you are a big girl now,mess around and you'll get pregnant.”

And from there on,I was forbidden to go out with my male cousins,play Kati with the boy next door(hata sijui kadoch alienda wapi),and that was the beginning of me avoiding the other gender, because who wanted to get pregnant st class seven anyway?

‎(okay okay....I don't think there's even need to cite the other incident).

Basically my mum's talk was not very helpful,rather than actually educating me in a way that would help me embrace whatever had now became part of my girlhood journey,it instilled fear in me,and oh I really hated my periods,they made me feel so unclean and uncomfortable .We all know how much the older generation continues to pass their myths and misconstrued opinions to the younger generation regarding SRHR,tragedy alert!!!!

‎A week ago,I attended the 9th Reproductive Health Network Kenya conference and dare I say fun was had,but more importantly,I was amazed by the stories I heard,how open sex and sexuality is talked about and it was definitely an eye opener to how much we've been failed as a generation when our parents decided to make the sex talk a taboo .

‎In one way or another ,I know we've all been in a situation where our sexual and reproductive health needs weren't met.Less than average of African parents openly talk about sex to their kids .Whatever you'll hear in most households is the abstinence talk,purity culture for girls and the horrifying warnings of why you shouldn't engage in sex,which if we are being very candid is not helpful at all.It is limiting, withdraws the vital information and ends up leaving the people in need of the information more confused.

‎We are always warned , don't have sex,you'll ruin your future,you'll get pregnant (which is of course a huge possibility),in real sense we should have been taught the safe ways to have sex, contraceptives, abortion,consent and sexuality.

‎We also know how partriachal and misogynistic these conversations have always sounded.Two people have sex,girl gets pregnant,girl is shunned,girl leaves school ,boy gets degree,girl becomes teen mum and has to live with that forever,boy gets a good future still ,and the baby???Depends.Its refreshing to see all the programs empowering the girls but dare I say there's still a lot to be taught and done.Let it be known to the boy child that pregnancy,wanted or unwanted is a collective responsibility,and to the girl child ,let it be clear that contraceptives and abortion is part of your healthcare.

‎We need to be more open about the sex talk,let it not be a thing where Baba Shiro walks away from the sitting room or Shiro is pulled aside when talking about her menstrual health,MEN SHOULD KNOW,kwani what era are we in where a girl carrying a pad around still attracts attention like she killed someone.Can somebody please tell our parents we are having sex and it's time they switch the conversations from their half assed warnings to actual informative sessions,can somebody tell our parents we are gay and no that doesn't make us possessed or confused.Can we please talk more about sex,sexuality, abortion,rape, contraceptives and everything regarding our reproductive health without sugarcoating or cringing.

‎

‎(feel free to share any experience that had you wishing you had more knowledge on sexual and reproductive health)

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‎

‎Love doesn't hurt,only that it does .It stabs......or isn't that love,because I've been stabbed ,my heart has been ripped out by the same love I thought would hold me in it's hands.I scratched my surface to help heal them,to wrap their wounds around my arms and give a kiss to the trauma that gives them sleepless nights,then I scratched the surface deeper....and a little deeper again,and I found my hands dripping of blood,red,red everywhere.Cut the cameras,no actually....I need you to stop .I have been found guilty. ...I cannot deny,my hands incriminate me ,I have blood ...it's my blood and I shouldn't go down for it,but the jury doesn't care,they stare at me and sees a criminal,they think I know better,they want me locked up and prosecuted for all my atrocities and above all,they don’t feel sorry for me.

‎

‎I try shouting across the courtroom, surely the judge should listen to my side of the story .I bled because I was holding the victim...I didn't stab the victim .I look across the room and there he is, oh Lord,the victim has a wound,and I do too.He is also being prosecuted for stabbing me ....weird .We should shout together,hold hands and let them know that we chose to bleed for each other,I think out loud .But that's not his plan ...he doesn't look at me even once to see if I'm bleeding,he looks away,he resents me,so I do too .

‎

‎We meet in prison,we have been sentenced to fire on fire in this shitty place.Different cells,but I still see him across the halls,we start glancing at each other sometimes,make small talk and then sleep  .In my sleep I dream of us escaping this shitty place together,I imagine us breaking free off the chains that held us down,and when I wake up I  remember how his hands felt warm and safe at some point.I know he thinks the same too ....I see how he looks at my hands,how soft he gets when I try to reach out for his through the fucking bars.I know that look .....we know we have a bigger probability of failing if we try to break out of this place .We might get killed.....and oh,I don't think I'm ready.No...i don't think I'm ready to watch him escape alone,because his eyes says he want us to do this together,but Lord,what if he bleeds on me more. We will end in the pits this time .... not ready for that,but I also can't give this away .

‎

‎I may get shot or thrown in the pits ...or we might never make it out alive.Thing is ,we will never know if we don't try .So hello dear jury ...I am taking the  risk again, fucking hell .I am taking a leap of faith with him, hoping that this time we land on softer edges of each other,as friends.

‎

‎

.

‎She rushed to the girl at the reception,a lightskin,long haired babe who seemed more interested in talking to some guy on the phone while twirling her hair,rather than doing her job.The customer service , considering this was one of the fewgood public hospitals in the country,was terrible.

‎She banged at the shelf aggressively to catch the receptionists interest.

‎“You have to listen to me,I need you to call all the doctors and nurses for me,you have to,it's an emergency....right now”

‎The receptionist looked at her ,rolled her eyes and continued chewing her gum after she ended the call,her attitude was screaming ,

‎“Bitch I know you are not talking to me like that”but all she said was...

‎“How can I help you?”

‎“Helpppp??'...Lucy shouted.'I need you to do what I said,and it's not help if I'm paying for it it's my right and it's your responsibility to do as I say,or what do you get paid for .”

‎They stood there for a minute, eyeing each other down.A fight for who's ego is stronger,thet deserved each other.

‎Then Lucy broke into a wail, pouring the water she held in her hand over her head .Onlookers and other patients were starting to gather around,the receptionist was more in shock than anything.She tried calling her down.

‎“Miss,I'll need you to calm down,I'll need you to tell me what you need.”

‎“I just told you,I need all the best doctors,nurses and surgeons available,or she's gonna die.....I don't want her to die”

‎'Who is gonna die,where is she,do you need an ambulance?'

‎This was becoming pitiful,the hospital had only one surgeon and she was a way for a vacation in France,it was 11.50 and trust me not,most doctors had gone for lunch.Public hospitals are pathetic.

‎The onlookers, immensely moved by the possible death of Lucy's acquaintance wished she bad just gone to a private hospital.They knew she would get little to no help here....they had started feeling sorry for the 'almost deceased'.

‎The available staff were now trying to make it look like there was something they were doing to curb the situation but all you could hear was

‎“Take her down to the lobby”

‎“Dr Kimani will be here soon”

‎“Ambia Kamau atoe ambulance parking”

‎“Start prepping the concussions”

‎

‎From Lucy's loose ends story,her friend needed help.She wouldn't give enough details on where her friend was because she was sobbing and wailing three quarters of the time,but she was ready to go with the ambulance to pick her friend.Every activity had stopped ,as Lucy's own required more urgency.The service was terrible,the staff itself complained ,the government had not send money for funding in a while and their salaries had been denied too,and according to nature's balance theory,these people had find a way to reward themselves in a way ,the little to no drugs available,slowly vanished but then re appeared in their private pharmacies.

‎

‎As the situation was finally being curbed ,three people stormed in frantically searching.

‎“What is it again”A nurse sighed

‎When they finally spotted Lucy,who had now being led to the ambulance,they heaved a sigh of relief.They were apparently her friends.

‎

‎There was no patient,no injured friend and definitely not an almost death.What existed was a crazy person.Lucy.Well she was high off a weed cookie.Apparently,she had ,despite her friends warning eaten two of those and then wandered off,her friends had been searching for her and they were finally glad they found her.

‎People who were initially invested in this sympathetic situation walked away clicking and cursing her.An old lady said

‎“aki hawa ma Gen-Z nkt”

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‎

Smoking weed,doors closed…only the bathroom lights on.The gaps underneath the door covered with dirty clothes and the air freshener halfway through….mambo ya diffusion and whatnot,and deeply I just think cousins the cherry on top of the cake .But like your life is the cake.

Anyway,I think life moves too fast sometimes,and a lot happen along the way.But we feel the negative impact more yeah….that doesn't mean there were no positives.They’ve been there all along,stuffed and forgotten in the corner.Eh…just look at your pluses and try and draw joy from them.

This is so cliche but sometimes you actually have to see the good in bad.The two sides of the coin.Juu sasa what are you going to do. My dad called me today,that's the good I'll be focusing on,rather than he called after 3 weeks😂. Anyway (also very cliche)….some things happen for a reason,aki they do.

‎My grandmother(may her soul rest in peace )used to think I was very different from the women in my family,she was right...she doesn't know how much I lost when I lost her,I lost it all.

‎I don't think my family knows the real me...and that's strategic ,because I got to a point of exhaustion,from their opinions and two penny thoughts on who I am or was supposed to be

‎was made of grand gestures

‎fireworks, confessions

‎running through airports

Screaming I love you on Instagram

‎but then I saw you

‎hold my hand everytime

‎and tie my shoelaces

And sit with me in silence

‎and I knew how wrong I was

‎‎I saw you note down the stuff

‎that made me happy and bubbly

‎remember small details

‎and listen even when I didn't know

‎how to say it right

‎And suddenly,love wasn't loud

‎It was consistent

‎And I love you.

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By now I'm assuming you have seen the videos trending on TikTok about young girls being given away for marriage.Good Lord where do I even start ,it's outrageous and I'm angry.Angry at everyone,who in one way or another has contributed to the demise of these girls future.More so ,I'm angry that we get to watch this,talk about it for a few days and find something else to obsess over in a few days while these girls continue to live in their worst nightmares while the predators get away with it.

Another incidence that I'll cite here,the Karen Nusmu remarks towards the little girl in senate. You guys don't even understand how much I dislike that woman ,hate is not a strong enough word.I believe she was born dumb,how she made her way to the Senate still dumbfounds me. How do you stand up in a whole senate ,and make sexual remarks about a ten year old girl who's their for inspiration,for what?When we are already dealing with the opposite gender,fuck all the Karen Nyamus too!

It's crazy how many people have gotten away with it,how we don't even see the atrocities that are being done to the young girls out here in the name of religion and responsibility.A fourteen year old girl should not be responsible for an old man's uncontrollable, disgusting desires .A fourteen year old should not be responsible for carrying and bearing another human to boost a man's ego and lineage .A fourteen year old girl,should infact be in school, giggling with her friends about the boy crush she has, thinking about being a nurse, doctor,writer or engineer .She should lean on her parents and society as a whole for protection and a support system for her dreams,she shouldn't be looking at men and getting reminded of all the awful things that happened to her body,the dreams ruined and more so,the celebration that happened right before her life was ruined.

The partriachy rooted in these kind of situations infuriates me,sadly most of these ,young, innocent girls have been gaslit by the so called religion and cultures to believe that getting married , bearing children and serving their husbands at such young ages is what they were born for.I wish we could hold them,look straight in their eyes and give them a glimpse of how much the world has to offer,on how much they could accomplish and how many good things they could have,I wish they could get a chance to experience their girlhood,womanhood and their divine femininity. I would let them know that their purpose…is infact not to serve the partriachy,rather themselves.And for the men ,I would look them straight in the eye and let them know,that for people who spend a lot of time talking about being natural born leaders and protectors,they are surely doing a pretty bad job….. literally the opposite of it,and then maybe throw them off the cliff .

It doesn't have to take being told,”What if that was your sister”,to show compassion ,to show basic knowledge that it is wrong,very wrong indeed to look at a minor and see a wife or a baby machine(coming from someone who has a thirteen year old sister,I don't know how men look at these little angels and decide to do what they do,I would literally rather rot in jail for putting a bullet in someone's head if they try that nonsense on my sister than to be free and see them walk around gleeming in pride)

Feelings aside,we need to do better as a community.Its freaking the 21st century and we are still stuck on such maniac cultures and tradition.My heart beats for these girls,they deserve better,we are failing them .We are failing this queens.

‎‎Its weird that I've imagined for the longest time how this moment would go,I have lied down at night and made a play in my head of the movie-like encounter exes have after a long time apart.

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‎It's 11 am and I'm walking around school ,in my element, hair is done and skin is glowing.Its the 'I'm such a diva' time of the month.I laugh with my friends and from my divine female intuition,I can feel someone watching me.Then I turn ,and there you are,with a grin on your face, you're wearing that damn jacket,the red jacket that shielded me from the cold as we watched the stars and the moon, talking about rap and siblings.Then you walk towards me to say hi,and my friends leave us to talk, because they know you.You're THAT boy,so we talk.And I hoped that I would meet you when I'm completely healed and moved on,so I say .

“I didn't notice it's been this long, honestly I almost forgot how you look like.”

Not because I mean it but because I no longer care to caress you ego and pride.Then you'd suggest we get drinks,so we do.And we talk .....talk about everything we missed out on each other's life,I would confront you for leaving,for claiming you were too scared for whatever you were feeling,you would apologize, explain it and I would maybe finally understand where you were coming from all that time.Then my story would have two endings depending on the day,for the first five months,or six....I go home with you,coz you finally found your place,a place that you like,and we'd make love ,for the first time ever and we'd in a rom com way get back together and live happily ever after,but the second hopeful ending,after drinks I go back home,I make peace with the weight of seeing the boy who made my first semester in heaven walk away from this campus,I arrange for your graduation gift card, and finally wish you well . Genuinely this time.And hope that in a few months,I would struggle to remember your name.

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‎But I saw you there,from the balcony and I froze.You are alive,you are still ....you.I wanted to come and say hi ,I fought every nerve in my body ,I fought all the demons I had fought for the past one year.My heart was beating like it wanted to be freed from my body,not in the way it used to beat for you,not in the excitement of sitting outside late at night with the boy of your teenage dreams,watch the moon and the stars and hold hands and bicker the night away,not in the knots your stomach does when you think about your first kiss.I don't even remember when our first kiss was .My heart was beating out of dread,that the person standing there is a stranger,a stranger I once knew too well ,a stranger I once knew everything about,three names,place of birth, favorite anime, favorite sport, passions.....body,how you kiss,your fingers ,how you smell and how you love your hair.Yeah....so much information between two strangers .A stranger that had my mother's contact.

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‎I hid,took a breath and looked downwards for the 10th time,and you were gone just like that, gone.”It’s his last day of school ,I should go to his class and pull him out and say something “,my brain convinced me .Maybe I should have done that, maybe I should still get you a graduation gift,to honour you and all the memorable months you gave me . Maybe....or maybe not.

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‎But now I realize how much of changed people we are,how it would have been a waste of time to try and revisit our old memories,and as I looked at you...my last perception of you was how cruel and evil you were to me,and honestly it's been so long I can't claim to know you anymore.I don't know how many people came after me and my last straw was,I had just seen the boy i loved after you thirty minutes before that,and it strike me how differently I could be loved,he was kind to me,held my hand in public and tied my shoes,you took me out but never opened the doors,he did.It is messy between me and the boy i loved after you, because you shaped most of my first,at the moment,or maybe even dead ,and I'm still finding a way through that.I will ... because I did that once, and I realized I don't get to love once ,not even twice.

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‎I saw you and it's nothing like I imagined,not even close,but I'm glad it happened.And I'm glad you're okay.

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I'm scared that if I heal completely,then I loose you completely.

‎Dear beloved,

I write to you out of no regrets,out of clarity and maybe respect for the love I had for you.I sat with my mates in a circle,and we poured out the bits that infest our minds and souls,we psycho analyzed each other and deep in my stomach pits ,I was shocked.Shocked on how everything was so clear yet so unclear to me, maybe because I chose to be so blind to your shortcomings,or because I am so used to not being chosen,that every gesture of kindness to me feels like the literal end of the world.I found myself asking if I ever loved you,and if I ever felt loved by you ,to the latter ,I doubt .I loved having someone to love,I loved having you on the receiving end ,I loved scratching myself to look deeper,I loved bleeding for you because you love when the universe is red.

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It was never about us,or you .It was always about me....my love,has always been about losing myself to be loved.Sighs.

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‎Human enough to admit my shortcomings,I was too much.Wanted too much so fast ,so quickly.In my defense,the only reason I ever thought we could be more is because you showed me that we could,it's because you made it look like there was a future with you,and then overnight,you snatched my dreams away,you was going through a lot,you were not ready,it was happening too fast .I try to understand this to some point,but I don't.Lemme not lie....I am evil sometimes,and the difference between me and you is that i can admit that.

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‎My desire to talk to you runs out everyday the same way my ink has run out after writing you all the letters and poems I never sent .I am in prison and I want you to come visit me,the same prison you guided me towards,but I realize that you on the other side of the bars , speaking life into me would only make me stay here longer.I'll free myself of these chains,I'll let you go.I don't put the blame on you anyhow, because I've been who you were to me to someone else,who am I to throw stones and point fingers.

‎

‎With love.

‎Princess.

I know because i struggled and i cried, i know because i almost fucking died.

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‎It’s like watching yourself in the mirror every morning, and suddenly everything that never bothered you now does, because you no longer have your usual smile. I watched myself turn dull, and what’s more painful is that there was nothing I could do, not because I was weak, but because I tried everything and every time I ended up more disappointed when it failed.

‎Pour into yourself, do what makes you happy, go for walks, read books, surround yourself with the people you love, fitness, listen to music, I did all of that, and usually for a split second, I used to feel like it was finally working, until I had the smallest triggers that sent me to the darkest holes I’ve ever been.

‎I used to cry until I couldn’t. I would them sleep for hours and wake up when the day is almost ending . Everything in my life flipped over, I went from being the bubbly ,funny ,silly friend to the she’s always in a mood nowadays friend. Losing my spark made me a bad person, to my friends and mostly to myself... I judged myself, Surely, it’s been months, get over it. Then I would go and cry for not getting over it.

‎Its not just about your light it emotions, it is physical too. I had a bloated face ,my lips were dark and reactive to everything, people would ask me if I’m a smoker every time I finally went out. I felt ‘ugly’, so I stopped trying. And that’s what depression does to you, it finds a way to suck out the littlest light left in you .It kicks you in the belly when you are already down as it whispers to you, you’re not worth it until you believe it. It makes sure you believe it.

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‎BLUE
I don’t know what happened along the way, but I sure didn’t wake up on a random day and feel it leave my heart .I didn’t just wake up and feel like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Slowly by slowly, I would go out and have a laugh with my friends, a genuine laugh, then go home and maybe still cry, and I wouldn’t be too hard on myself, because I looked forward to laughing again tomorrow.

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‎The getting better phase was also not linear, I could feel my scars healing...I could see it, but in a very weird way, my brain convinced me that it was fake, that I need to dig deeper to find myself So I did....I dug deeper, I associated with my triggers more. I excused the things and people that caused me hurt, I tried to believe that them holding me would heal me, and they continued showing me why I should have left them alone.

‎GREEN
All in all, I felt it and I healed .I smile more, I laugh, I live and I love .I love myself more and I no longer need to cry to fall asleep, I tell my silly jokes and I’m the funny friend again, AND I GUARD THIS PRIVILEGE WITH EVERYTHING I HAVE IN ME. Because I know how much tears, time ,loss and energy it took me to be like this again.

It was weird feeling normal again ,because I was used to being sad, I had made it my personality. So when I laughed again, I thought maybe I was doing too much, I wondered how people saw me. You’re too young to be depressed, I had been told, and I had felt the pressure to rush through it and be happy again, mistake.

‎Losing your spark is painful and torture, so if you find it again..... anything that tries to sabotage it, let it go. Remember the long nights ,the panic attacks and the self loathe. Nothing.... absolutely nothing is worth you if it threatens to make you go through that. The only way out is through...and you do get out finally!!!

‎Xoxo):

PS; Nothing you feel is too much .

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‎I don't know if it's just me but this is how my drinking goes.First stage ,I'm excited that I'm out with my friends drinking and bonding.... we've all sent 273 bob to one person,grabbed one KC or mock pit mzinga, we're listening to Sauti sol, singing along waiting for the mzinga to come.Stage two,the mzinga comes,we toast to Michelle's new job, that one unit that almost sent us to Mathare or to hanging out more this semester, and that's when you actually say to yourself,Aww,I love this idiots,I wonder why they are my friends.Stage 3,two or three shots in,I'm not really tipsy,but the room is suddenly hot and my legs are a bit heavy,I ask myself ....I wonder what I'll do tonight when I'm really drunk.Thing is....I know what I'll do,I just don't want to admit it to myself because I know it's wrong, and I know I'll regret it tomorrow when I'm finally sober.

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‎Stage 5,there are three mzinga bottles laying there,Spotify switched from Kenyan rnb to Wizkid,your friend Tashie,is in the corner making out with that one guy she swears she has no crush on.Tulls,,your other friend is teaching a stranger guy some philosophical stuff she read online and asking him his ambitions as a young man in this generation.And then I spot my phone....I know what I'm going to do,my soul fights my mind,my mind knows I shouldn't be doing this,but my soul is drunk,and in love.

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‎So I unlock my phone.

I want to call you and let you know how much I miss you,how you need to come back home because the kids miss you.To make you come get me from this ‘dead party’,to let you baby and princess me to death and for us to have one last talk,and maybe closure.To tell you the randomest things….like unajua ule mathe wa chipo siku hizi anafanya hadi laundry.To remind you of our lingo,I kenttt

‎Maybe...I tell myself, maybe If I scroll on TikTok kidogo,the urge to text him will fade away.So I open TikTok,amidst the drowsiness and the blur...I do it so demurely because my girls would hide my phone if they see me,this is a hill we've been on for a long time.

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‎First video on my fyp is a couple wearing a matching set of sweatpant .

That could have been me and him,you think

‎You scroll

‎Second video,if he wanted he would

‎Scroll.

‎Because I also want to ,but I'm not doing it, surely maybe he wants to and he doesn't do it because he thinks I'll ghost him.

‎And just like that,you've found your reason of texting him tonight.

‎Closes TikTok and opens Whatsapp.

‎His contact is archived , because the last time you talked,it didn't end the way you expected.

‎You remember crying yourself to sleep that night.

‎Heyyy...you type ,wait for a minute and then hit send.

‎Single tick.

‎Ouch....am I blocked? Surely...you can't be,his profile is still visible,so maybe he's asleep.

‎But you know his routine, he's not asleep at 12.48 am.So he's probably just offline...or maybe....no,no.

‎I have to delete it.....no I can't delete this because Whatsapp will snitch and he'll probably ask about it the next day .Surely ...I'll say it was a mistake.

‎Opens phone and oh

‎There it is.

‎Double ticks....so why has he not responded yet .Is he ignoring my text...you long press the text to see how long it's been on delivered and oops,his receipts are off.Okay....he's probably seen it and he's ignoring me.Maybe I should call him ... maybe.

‎He texts back.

‎Heyyy...how are you???

‎You can hear your heart beat,your hands get sweaty and now you're fighting back the urge to tell him your pillow still reeks of his scent.

‎You end up calling him....you ask about his day, casually talk about how drunk you are,he tells you to take care and out of nowhere,you are either crying telling him how you miss him or angrily asking him why he did what he did.He calms you because he can't argue back, but in the back of your drunk mind,you can tell he's angry that you had to bring this up again.You know he's tired but not ready to shut you out completely.... and that's why you've always called him.

‎He tells that you should calm down, that he'll call tomorrow when you are sober .He sounds so romantic when he lies, he has not changed at all.

‎Next day,all you have to say is

Sorry,I was just really drunk .

‎And he texts back four hours later

‎Its okay!

‎You end up cringing at yourself the whole day, swearing not to ever do that again,but truth is .

‎Those three shared bottles of KC aren't the real reason you texted,you crafted the heyy in your brain for so long, wondering how it will go and that liquor only gave you the excuse you'll use the next day....it might be a drunk call,but sure as hell the message is very sober!!!

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Pesh met Eze in a way she has never met anyone before. It was Christmas and all she was trying to do was get a bus ticket for Saturday to go back to the countryside…all buses were booked and she was desperate.She hadn't seen her little sister in almost six months and Christmas break was the only time she had time to do that before she drowned herself in the city hustle.

Then someone texted in the University's Market place Whatsapp group, reselling an already booked easycoach ticket to Ushago .She knew this was her last hope,so immediately she replied privately to the text wanting to buy it.But she had to be careful,she believed in Nairobi phrases , Mchezo wa town na Kila mtu ako mboka .

Eze was in a haste to sell the ticket

‘Just send me the money I send you the details ‘

‘Mi si mgeni Nairobi bro,I want a physical exchange’.She insisted

After a while ,they were clearly not reaching common grounds and Pesh was already mentally prepared to spend Christmas in her aunt's stuffy two bedroom in Umoja.

Then he offered to help her get another ticket as he had decided to go home also.

‘Tukutane hapo nyuma ya afya centre,I'll help ‘.

‘Aaai,why would you help me na mbona nyuma ya afya center,you don't even know me bruh,’screams the inner voices of a girl who's not used to help.

And that's how Pesh met Eze,he helped her get a shuttle to Shags(you would understand how hectic this is if you're from western and you're trying to travel during the Christmas holidays,aki waluhya).

He wasn't breathtaking at first sight, nothing spectacular to Pesh ,but he was kind.He carried her bags and made sure she was seated before he left for his bus,he was already late ,it was 8.16 and he was supposed to board his bus at 8.

The whole night,Eze checked up on her

Umefika Nakuru?

Are you comfortable ?

Ebu get something when you stop at Eldy .

Mi niko kwa jam,but I guess we are not so far from you .

Make sure your phone is safe ukillala.

And that's how it began.Over the whole Christmas break ,Eze checked in everyday.She was busy and only replied when she wanted to, Pesh low-key knew she needed a man like Eze,but no,the heart wants what it wants.Eze was no bad boy,no tats, piercings whatsoever.He went to church,was well groomed ,was a disciplined athlete and if he wasn't playing or training for football,then he was watching a football game.He hoped to play for the Kenya Premier league one day…currently he was signed by Strathmore.

After Christmas,Eze asked her when she was going back to Nairobi so they could travel together.Pesh felt guilty because she had been ignoring him for the most part of Christmas so instead she told him that she was going back with her cousin.

Maybe next time?,she texted,

That should sound like a softer landing atleast.

And so they went back… on separate days.

They had exams in January,so they were pretty much both busy.Busy posting memes on their statuses about how Uni is tiring and then going back to scroll on TikTok.Then Eze texted asking her if she was available for the weekend to go watch a football game at Nyayo.She didn't say no …. because one of her New years resolution was to put herself out there more.

So he paid for the tickets …and she showed up,in faded jeans ,a black crop,a black shoulder bag and an umbrella.They didn't really talk much as it was hella sunny and it was also just awkward .After the game,Gor Mahia fans were chanting from Nyayo to CBD after the match ,all the roads leading to town were temporarily blocked and so they decided to walk ,He held her hand the whole way, observed the side walk rule and asked her a couple times if she needed anything to which she all said no.

That's the only time she got a chance to check him out.He was a MANNN,big muscles,I mean he was an athlete who worked out like 5 times a week,what do you expect?He had a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones….big arms,like very big yoh.Those arms could pin you on the wall and have you beg for mercy.Pesh wanted to touch them but she had to play it cool.

Before he took her to her bus station,he took her to shawarma street,to which Pesh declined so they had to leave,He insisted to buy her cake and some fruits …took her to Quickmart,bought her a drink and then took her to her bus stop,gave her a hug and left.And that actually marked Pesh's first ever date.

‘Make sure you call me when you reach home’.he said

It was getting dark and Pesh enjoyed the window rudes back home.The signs were so clear,Eze liked her.And he was a gentleman… something she finally needed.She was done playing games with the fuckboys,she knew she was going to give him a chance if he asked.

AND HE WAS GOING TO ASK,HE WAS A STRAIGHT FORWARD MAN.

He complimented her, encouraged her, communicated,gifted her Didn't love bomb her and kept it real with her, nothing was missing,he was a dream .But she didn't love how safe he was.

So she picked her phone to update her girl Molly on how the date went.

And there it was.

Hey,I miss you.

How have you been.

JERE HAD TEXTED!!!!!

And Pesh knew where this was going…she knew Eze’s chance had been sabotaged just by those two texts.

After all this was JERE.The ‘EX’.Well ,he wasn't really her ex,they never dated.

It was complicated.Poor Eze!

Part two coming 😘

‎The truth is - sometimes love changes.The truth is , sometimes life gets hard and ‘I'll stay’ turns into ‘I have to take care of myself right now’.

Sometimes those who loved us beautifully cannot continue to do so.And that is okay.You have to understand that there are certain things in life you have to truly let go off.There are certain things in life you cannot control -and the heart of a human is one of them.

Either someone chooses you or they do not.Either someone decides to fight or they do not.At the end of the day,you need to respect that.But you do not have to let it consume you.

See,you may not be able to control the person you loved,but you can control yourself .You can control the way you unapologetically dedicate yourself to loving who you are and what you have to offer.You can control the way you choose to move forward,the way you choose to believe you are worthy of the love you have continuously put out in the world..

You can control the way you choose to believe that all the love your heart has given was enough and will be enough for the right people.You can control how you grow from the loss.You can control how you survive it.So survive it .You are strong enough to do so.

-‎Bianca Sparacino .