Posts Tagged ‘Love’

Just friendsđŸ€“

One of the greatest things that life gifts you is friendship. 

Once you get a true friend…a heavy heart becomes as light as a feather.  

A tear never completes its journey. The trail ends abruptly due to a light touch.  

Tomorrow feels bright and colorful. 

Happiness becomes you and you become an example of life’s greatest rebirths. 

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In the previous days before getting here, there was no heightened feelings, rapid blinks, bloated head and fast paced pulses. I was completely light, flexible and free.

Now I am in this confined space where I gasp for air and yearn for the open space, light, polluted domes, synthetic hearts, and dusty atmosphere.

I need something that someone can give but someone else has, it is unfair yet fair; the latter being her and the former being me. If it were a reverse I would still be engulfed by this cocoon of discomfort because I would cause a rift that could have been avoided if I had tampered with my oestrogen levels.

This time of my journey in a world that seems realistic yet unrealistic-never mind
sometimes I have the tendency to be nihilistic but then I do believe in the Creator so I wouldn’t let that nature take the greater part of me thereby causing Him to cut the tight thread I am fighting so hard to hold on to- is so hard to avoid, I cannot possibly commit the cowardly act of running away?

I need to stay and fight, break through, tear down, plant explosive devices and clean up the carcass that will be my blood machine.

Such deceit that my intricate organ plays on itself. Such a pity that it is in my cranium and the other that decides to act the fool probably because it is suffocated by layers of pigment, fat, cartilage, bone or tied down by a network of long thin tubes.

They never let my decisions be the final word instead, they bounce and thrust, shove and burst until the ache comes causing my pores to expand and water, making me see little round circular rainbows, turning my optical vision into a microscope, even worse in sleep it is open and sees more images from my organ, such trickery that is mastered it does succeed in making me give in to irrational thoughts often deluding myself of reality. It pushes, the fool pushes, such painful jabs to my chest, it does not like to be ignored but I prefer deceit not foolishness so endurance might take the place of my name.

I had no idea that there was another enemy that crossed all negative adjectives and became smart, it is often underestimated and because of this it is given time to develop and concoct a series of curved and straight lines.

It makes allies with the pharynx and epiglottis then attacks in such a way that is rather invisible but later becomes so transparent giving its victim a tendency for insanity, suicidal thoughts and a qualifier for electromagnetic shocks.

In the event that on this day I should spill my guts to the one who tainted it, don’t put me in a coffin because that would be an insult to me.

I want exposure. Should I decay, leave me be in my disintegration because all I have done is give excuses for the very innocent parts that I control but mostly because I finally have what I need that I didn’t really give thought to wanting since my wanting wanted something else that would have caused massive destruction and made me deny my birthright.

MiniMe is back and she decided to make her entry quite “grand”!

In a very tiny column in today’s paper there is a notice from a parent asking his son to come for his mother’s burial. Immediately, I thought of abandonment.

This is a half fictional/realistic reconstruction from my imagination – out of many scenarios – of what might have caused this.

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A bundle of joy he was for me and my wife. Tiny legs, flailing arms, loud cries, beautiful smiles, white big eyes and a very complicated digestive system; all memories none of us would ever forget. I remember the time he put his finger in the chilli sauce and proceeded to rub his eyesđŸ˜±, my wife cried rain that day and my little boy… I guess all I can say is I couldn’t use the phrase “like a man”.

I watched him grow but then we had to train him so he wouldn’t have a sad life. We wanted to protect him because we loved him so much and we didn’t want any harm done to him. We were very watchful of his movements, we thought him right from wrong, we watched the people he hung around and we made sure we advised him constantly all the while giving him space to experience things and learn from his mistakes

Everything we did worked. He grew into a fine young man and we let him pursue his dreams. He had been gone for three years when we heard he was successful and married with kids. Where did we go wrong to deserve such treatment from our own child? Is it because we are illiterates or because we haven’t adapted very well to a rapidly growing world full of things that are not human but talk back to us? Huge birds that carry people in the sky?

We left him and thought that perhaps he would find his way back, maybe he was just too busy. My wife wanted to go to him and confront him because she was very hurt. I discouraged her but she went anyways. He came back to us and we met our grandchildren. But after that, we had to go pay visits. Anytime my wife went to see him, she would always come back crying. Our son treated her like a housemaid and it seemed the only time he called her was when he and his wife were travelling, so my wife could babysit.

She finally stopped going. I could see her agony and her sadness. Slowly she went into depression and got paralysed. It was not a burden on me because she was still the same beautiful, kind woman I married. My woman.

It was painful to see her go through that. I always wanted to die with her because the thought of being without her was unimaginable. She died but not before blessing our son. Up till her last days she kept praying for him. I could never understand her love; that type of love, because as far as I knew he was not my son anymore just something I produced.

I don’t think he’ll see my notice. I don’t know where he is now or how to find him but I want my wife to die in peace. If he isn’t present I can only hope the love I gave her would suffice.

This is from the perspective of good parents. I’m pretty sure some parents are cruel and that is what causes their children to forget them when they grow. But in most cases, it is the former that happens. 

The irony is, children who had bad parents want to see the good in their parents and children from good parents don’t have the time.

It is very easy to forget the ones who brought us up when we’re trying to create a life for ourselves  and to forget those who were there for us before we became successful.

Image from ripleeforensicpsych.umwblogs.org