I sit here thinking about all the things I was supposed to be, but I ain’t. Then the thoughts come hard at me; bashing from every direction. I can’t sleep. It’s 2:00am and I have work tomorrow.
I stand in front of the mirror, bare baked. Staring at the body before me, at the curves and edges that at times don’t feel like me, yet, are me. The tiny dark moles on my high cheeks that people barely notice. The messy hair and brows; the large eyes that keep lying to the world of my happiness even when I am on the brink of collapsing into a den of sorrows. On my face, it is the teeth and large lips I love the most. For no reason at all.
Facts and Fiction: A case of survival
Sometimes trauma leads you into subconsciously forgetting the facts of painful events in your past. Some truths hurt you so bad; so you keep pushing and pushing them farther away into some dark, unreachable corner of your mind. Or you fabricate lies to make the pain more palatable and bearable. Until , a point is reached where you can no longer decipher between the facts and the fiction. Time does that to you.
I am at a stage in life where I can no longer differentiate between the truth and the lies of the tales I have concocted to myself to make this thing called life more bearable. My facts and fiction have merged into a weird hybrid.
Carry away my dead leaves, Let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters Sink my pains and complaints, Let the river take them, river drown them- Ibeyi , River
This body of mine; this body that has withstood all the abuse of life and love; yet still it’s stands. Defiantly. Spongy breasts,fatty tummy, cellulite thighs and stretched-marked bum. This body that feels foreign yet familiar. Mine, the whole lot of it. Scars, burns, pulsating blood and all.
Where do you run away to when your mind is the one holding you hostage?
Do you rip it out with your bare hands, grab a hammer and bash it into a pulpy mess? Or maybe douse it with petrol and set it on fire? End it,once and for all. Perhaps the secret is to ignore it and it’s hushed whispers. I don’t know this things.
What the hell is happening to the prices of potatoes and tomatoes in this country? At this rate we might have to rob a bank or dupe unsuspecting citizens into buying shares in a real estate pyramid scheme in order to afford them.