This is not really a piece, or a letter. Maybe it is just a reflection. In the last two days I have had three conversations with guys randomly from my past. It has rattled the everyday pattern of life. I have felt angry and sad and ashamed for feeling both.
I don’t know if you have experienced this but there is this truth which dawns on you after infatuation fades, a truth that this person is not perfect. A truth that even though you were trying to do everything in your power to please this person, they were not doing the same for you. I tend to look for/see the best in people, so even when hurt I blame myself for being overemotional.
Unlearning my darling, unlearning.
Unlearning that just because you make me get butterflies in my tummy doesn’t mean you deserve my midnight dreams of a future with you. Unlearning that I don’t have a voice and you are always right. Learning that disagreeing does not accomplish nothing. Unlearning that even if when looking back in retrospect I am nothing to you, I shouldn’t be ashamed that you were something to me.
Unlearning that I am not allowed to mourn for something that never was. Unlearning that I am a backup plan, second best, when you run out of a first option. Unlearning that I should trust you with the secrets of my heart and let you read the open book of my life when you have done nothing to earn that privilege. Unlearning that my dreams of traveling the world with you were not folly, they were just a part of who I am. I am a dreamer.
Unlearning that I have to be the quiet bird that doesn’t sing. Unlearning that it was you and not the idea of you that I craved. Unlearning that I have to pick up your calls and text you back and shrug it all off. Unlearning that I don’t have a right to be hurt, to be angry that you made me believe there was something that never was. Unlearning that my feelings don’t matter. Unlearning that other people are going to like you and talk about how great you are but that won’t make my feelings less than valid.
Unlearning that because you are charming you are my prince. Unlearning that you are my future. You are not, and that is okay. Unlearning that it matters that this may not be that big of a deal to you. Learning that this is for me. Learning that I will be *am* okay. Learning that I will let you go.
Learning that it’s not me, it’s you.
Today I want to broach a topic which has also been part of this season of my life. Learning to unlearn. We live in an age where learning is the only path to success. Books, and exams are shoved down our little throats from the moment we know how to write our names. Knowledge is handed to us as gift which we are told is power. This is all well and good except there is a catch. The catch is that we don’t choose what we want to learn. From an early age we are taught only what the teacher chooses to teach us. We are most impressionable as children and soon we develop a worldview based on the broad or narrow teachings we have been given. Whether they are from school, home, family, culture, or/and the society in which we live. Unlearning is scary because we want to grasp on to the beliefs we have, these beliefs have become a part of our identity. Thus Unlearning may feel like falling and having nothing to hold on to as truth, as fact.
So why must we do it? There are several reasons but I will only state a few…
If what you have learned to be truth is lie, you will miss out on truth. Today, for example, we know the world is round but we didn’t always know that. People used to believe the earth was as flat as a pancake. It was all they knew and regardless of whether or not you would find a ‘believer’ in a ‘flat earth’ clinically insane today, back then it was extremely logical. So of course when some psycho wannabe philosopher claimed a ’round earth’ there was a lot of resistance to this claim. The earth’s curvature is not visible to the naked eye, so all the people could imagine was a ship falling into an abyss of nothingness after reaching the farthest corners of the earth. It took an extremely long time for the world to accept the concept of a round earth, because they had to ‘unlearn’ their previous beliefs.
Stereotypes and fact are intertwined. I had a conversation with a friend recently and he was telling my how immediately he graduates he wants to visit his relatives in different parts all around Kenya. He explained to me how he has only lived in Nakuru his whole life so everything he knows about everything is based on the perceptions he has inherited from the people he grew up with in this little town. I didn’t understand why this was such a bad thing but it clicked when I heard a friend tell me how she can never date a man from Western. I was surprised and I asked her why. She shook her head a little, shrugged her shoulders, and said, ‘I don’t know, there’s just something about them.’ I learned that she had received this ideology from her mother and the people who influenced her mind as a child. So I don’t blame her, it was something she was taught before she could decide what she wanted to be taught.
However, this leads to a theory I have come up with, which is that hate is taught. When a white person sees a black man with dreads walking near them, and they automatically assume he is dangerous and clutches their bags a little tighter or even needlessly call the police on him. This is a taught response. When a little dark-skinned girl looks into the mirror and hates the reflection staring back at her, that is a taught response. When a Kikuyu says, ‘I can never marry a Luo because they are lazy’ this is a taught response. When a person says, ‘I can never talk or interact with a homosexual because they are a disgusting sinner’ this is a taught response. When a man can’t respect a woman in an office setting because she is being, ’emotional’ and ‘irrational’ or it is probably ‘that time of the month’ this is a taught perception. Thus oppression is taught, not inborn.
How then must we deal with it? We have to teach ourselves to unlearn. It is harder than learning because it requires open-mindedness and a willingness to be wrong. You have to be willing to hear other people out and realize that no, you don’t know it all, and even what you do know? Well, guess what, it’s not fact honey. Just because you believe it, doesn’t make it true. Unlearning requires getting down to the nitty-gritty of your belief system and picking out what is lie and what is truth, what does more harm than good. It humbles you, and gets you off your egocentric high horse. Very few people are willing to unlearn because unlearning requires you to go backward when everyone else is obstinately going forward.
Bruce Lee *yes I am quoting the Asian karate cool kid* once said, “Empty your cup so that it may be filled; become devoid to gain totality.”
Also one of my favorite philosophers ever, Socrates said, “I am the wisest man on earth because I know one thing, and this is that I know nothing.”
Misimu… A Swahili word that means seasons. It is a beautiful word at that, and the word I will choose to use as my excuse for not loving my blog the last couple of months. I was going through a season where I forgot why I wrote. I lost Kamiliko’s purpose and I was scared to do a complete 180 with it so I just stopped. Plus there was a lot going on in my life so I was a bit overwhelmed. However, thank you to all my faithful readers who are still with me. If you have been with me for a while you may have noticed I have changed the name of one of my categories to “Reflections and Rants” because I do a lot of my rants on Facebook but I realized what is the point of a blog if you don’t get to rant or reflect a little on it so expect a number of reflections and rants over the next couple of months. Also let me know what posts you like and which you don’t like and if you would like a follow-up of this post. COmment, share, subscribe. I love your feedback.
*All the pictures used are free stock photos from Pexels.
Hey fam! Today we have slightly different type of post…. A music band takeover if you will? It was an honour interviewing the minds behind this beautiful ministry, so without further a due please welcome… Teren teren…
Who are you?
Mwanga is an independent worship team based in Nairobi, Kenya. Led by Charles Muchiri Maina, the band was formed in 2012 with a vision to touch heaven and impact the earth through our music ministry. Mwanga Band is made up of worship leaders and musicians who faithfully serve in their various churches every Sunday to facilitate this vision coming to life in their musical circles of influence.
What makes up Mwanga? And what are some of your previous accomplishments?
Mwanga Band is passionate about writing and recording their own music, and over the past three years, we have released an album: “God of Flavor” with a popular song: “Wewe ni mkuu” having numerous airplay on all leading Christian stations in the country, as well as “Mwangaza” and “Ndiwe”.
Apart from the musicians, Mwanga Band has a logistics team running the backend of the band, running the backend of the band-finances, photography, videography, logistics, bookings and schedules. The team is made up of seven.
You have a new album coming out? tell me about it?
Our latest project has been a live album project entitled: “We Will Rule” from Revelation 5:10 that calls us rulers, and an authority on earth by inheritance through Jesus Christ. This new album, shot in February this year, has inspired us to worship with a new sense of knowledge and understanding of who we are in, and through Christ for all that He did in His coming, ministry, death and resurrection.
What is your vision and mission?
Mwanga is passionate about reaching out to worship teams and the youth (the age between18-35) inspiring them to uphold excellence in their ministry (and all that they do) as we understand that this is an offering to the Lord.
Future events the readers should know about?
We will be launching our album in two phases: A Premiere at Planet Media Westgate on June 2nd from 6.30pm, and an Album Launch concert on June 5th, at Parklands Baptist Church from 3–6pm. The Premiere is a black-tie affair event, giving invited guests an opportunity to share with us the first experience of watching the live production for the first time, and pray and commission the album out for distribution and sale. The album launch concert following is to share the music from the album in a live feel, and ministering with us on at the Album Launch will be Shamsi Music (the band that has played in this project), KNEF (Kinyua Ngeera Education Foundation-a foundation raising money for children to go to school, who we have worked with in the recent past) and Ministry of Mouth (A Christian beat-boxing team who are long-time friends)
We would like for people to come join us at both events, to share the experience with us, and the ministry from the music so that they would be impacted to go out and rule their environments, with an understanding of their role as kings and priests through Christ. We would also like for people to come and hopefully be ambassadors of the project to all who could not attend any of the events.
Instagram: Mwanga Band
Telephone number: 0701-037143/0715-532268
Here is their newest upbeat, song that gets you dancing on your feet, definitely worth checking out… Watch Jenerali Official Music Video
Ubuntu allows us to understand that under the African Sun,
We have the ability to enjoy one culture just as much as another
To dance to Afro-beats, having never been to Western Africa,
To enjoy braai and chakalaka from Southern Africa,
Just as much as chapatti and nyama-choma from East Africa
To know that even with over 2,000 different languages and tribes,
Whether you are,
Kikuyu or Zulu,
Fulani or Swahili,
Tswana or Kamba,
We all have an underlying bond, so strong that our differences in culture only add to our shared identity
Recently I got an amazing opportunity to talk about colorism with some incredibly smart folks on a local talk show. I got this opportunity because I wrote a short story on Potentash.com. The short story was part of a series of four I have written titled ‘Life like a Lady.’ This particular short story happened to have been about “A Dark Skinned Girl.” You can read it here Life Like a Lady; A Dark Skinned Girl.
The interesting thing after, and slightly before going for this interview which caught my attention was a few responses and comments that I really wasn’t expecting. To name a few, *I paraphrase*
“I think there are more important things to talk about…”
“I don’t think it’s an issue unless you decide to make it an issue.”
“But why are you making what society believes such a big deal? Si you just CHOOSE to not let it affect you?”
“So now if you complain and complain about it but do nothing who is that helping? I’m tired of just seeing social media campaigns, and talks, and etc. without doing anything about it.”
Let me just say something, out of the disgusted part of me. Shut. The. Hell. Up.
This is the reason most little girls are ashamed of their insecurities, because the world (comprised of society, culture, and authoritative figures), after feeding them those insecurities, then goes on to tell them how there are much bigger problems in comparison to their little insecurities so they should deal with it and get over it. This also happens in Social Justice issues, such as the bringing up of The #AllLivesmatter from the #Blacklivesmatter.
Colorism is a real thing, if it wasn’t why are there statements like, “You’re pretty for a dark-skinned girl.” or “awww her baby is so light (skinned) she/he will be so cute growing up.”
If it isn’t a real thing why are statements like “Light Skin is Right Skin” in rap lyrics consciously accepted as an ‘okay’ thing to say. Why are there hashtags going round such as #Teamlightskin vs. #Teamdarkskin?
If it isn’t a real thing why do (According to World Health Organization) 77% of Nigerian women use skin-lightening products, followed be 59% in Togo, and 35% in South Africa? I could give more, everyday, smaller examples or even go back to the roots such as Willie Lynch’s Letter to slave owners in the 1800’s on how to control your slaves,
“In my bag here, I HAVE A FULL PROOF METHOD FOR CONTROLLING YOUR BLACK SLAVES. I guarantee every one of you that, if installed correctly, IT WILL CONTROL THE SLAVES FOR AT LEAST 300 HUNDREDS YEARS. My method is simple. Any member of your family or your overseer can use it. I HAVE OUTLINED A NUMBER OF DIFFERENCES AMONG THE SLAVES; AND I TAKE THESE DIFFERENCES AND MAKE THEM BIGGER. I USE FEAR, DISTRUST AND ENVY FOR CONTROL PURPOSES. These methods have worked on my modest plantation in the West Indies and it will work throughout the South… You must use the DARK skin slaves vs. the LIGHT skin slaves, and the LIGHT skin slaves vs. the DARK skin slaves…” -Willie Lynch
Now that we have established that it is an actual problem, issue, controversial topic of discussion or whatever else you want to call it, then what’s next? Because I am talking about it am I whining? Am I complaining? Why not do something about it.
Those who started the Black Lives Matter movement, are they complaining? Aren’t they doing something about it?
Talking about it is doing something about it! Social Media Campaigns are doing something about, using the power of words to change people’s mind sets is having the strength to not sit down, shut up, and let the world be what it is without being challenged.
One of the most gorgeous campaigns I have seen recently is The Unfair and Lovely Social Media Campaign which I originally saw on Facebook. It involves beautiful South Asian women who are combating the ‘Fair and Lovely’ norm. They are saying being fair doesn’t automatically mean being lovely, and being lovely doesn’t automatically mean being fair.
They are speaking out, using pictures and words which will allow the next generation of little girls to see role models who look like them as the norm, allowing them to feel comfortable in their own skin, allowing them to tackle other issues this world faces. To me that is making a world of a difference.
So no I will not shut up about colorism, or racism, or nappy hair, or being extra curvy, or sexism, or worthlessness, or intellect, or any insecurity that breaks a person into silent pieces and takes away their voice. Because the sooner we are able to acknowledge that things like these affect who we are as people, the sooner we will be able to deal with, and move past them.
Dear friend who fell for me and the friend I fell for,
This letter is to two different people. I could write to you two separately but I feel like too many of the themes overlap. I am also writing to the two of you at the same time because I feel in order to understand anything or anyone, you need to see both sides of the story. So hopefully, you could learn from each other and from me.
First, I’ll talk to the friend who fell for me. We had fun, emphasis on the ‘had’. I valued value your friendship. You were someone I enjoyed hanging out with and talking to, and we lost that. I’m sorry I couldn’t reciprocate the feelings you had for me. To be honest, I wish I could. You were a nice guy and, on paper, you should be a great guy for me, but I can’t force what isn’t there. I’ve tried dating a friend and all that ended up being was a waste of both our times and hurting him even more. One thing I don’t think you realize is that I did put serious consideration into us before turning you down. We are friends, I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s like a funny, and somewhat crude, joke a friend told me once: Love is like a fart, if you have to force it, it’s probably crap. As silly as that saying sounds, it is true. I didn’t want to destroy what we had in hopes of a relationship I didn’t want to be in from the get go.
Instead, in a swift turn of events, you hurt me. It is as if as soon as it was established that there was no romantic future between the two of us, I lost value to you. You stopped talking to me. You became cold. We lost those shared inside jokes and the quality time I cherished so much. I understand that you needed time to heal and I gave you your space.
But I didn’t expect you to throw me a curve ball and completely drop me as a friend. You claimed to be a nice guy but how nice can you be if you don’t value anyone else’s feeling but your own.
Now to the second person this letter is to. The friendship in which I found myself at the other side of the friendzone fence. I honestly don’t know how it happened. One day you were the goofball I hung out with and the next you were the one I couldn’t get off my mind. I didn’t understand it at all because I don’t fall for people, but I did fall for you. The worst part of it all was that I knew you weren’t doing it on purpose. While you were always so sweet with me, that was your personality. You were an angel to everyone, and I hated that about you because it made me like you that much more. I remember one time, when I was at a stage where I was slowly moving on, I was with you on the subway. There was this homeless guy. He had no hope left, and was slightly suicidal. He sat down next to you. What did you do? Spend the whole ride trying to convince this guy that he had a reason to live. I knew when you gave that guy the crumpled $10 bill, the only cash you had, and a genuine hug, that I was not over you at all.
I’ve never made the first move on a guy before. Not because I’m this amazingly hot person who has all the men running after her, ha! But because I rarely like people, as I said earlier, and luckily, the guys I have dated came to me first. I dunno what possessed me but I finally bit the bullet and told you.
And you didn’t feel the same. You were nice about it, because you’re an amazing guy.
I wasn’t upset, I wasn’t. I went straight from shock (not that you didn’t like me, but that I told you) to acceptance. I was honestly okay with it. Sure, it sucked that you didn’t reciprocate but I wanted you to be happy and I can deal with the fact that that’s not with me. I still wanted to be your friend because, well, you’re a great person. But I knew our friendship changed slightly. There was, and still is, this awkward tension in the air when we see each other. I think you’re worried about leading me on or whatever, but honestly, don’t be. We were friends before I went all lovestruck on you and I want us to eventually go back to that. I know it won’t happen right away but I want to at least work at it.
So here we are, the three of us. Friendships that were damaged by Cupid’s arrow, but wounds can heal. Friendships are a beautiful thing and I think when we are single, we forget that. We get so consumed by our romantic loneliness that we take the people in our lives for granted. Intimacy is not confined to romance and can be found in platonic relationship as well. So I hope I can return to that level of closeness with you again, with both of you.
The girl with too many guy friends.
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Thinking of you makes me sick to my stomach. Five years down the line and your name still leaves a revolting taste in my mouth. See I’m not angry cause you hurt me no…I hate you cause you made me hurt myself. Loving you was the worst form of self-infliction I went through.
So where do I start? I guess I’ll start with the lies. Honestly this was my fault, because I should have walked away from the moment this happened. The number of times you cheated and made a fool out of me should’ve been enough for me to hate you. I never believed a word you said, but I couldn’t stop listening. I let go hoping that one day you’d stop…And you did.
It felt like we started again, it was our clean page of love and secrets so untold. It was the perfect beginning to a twisted love story I guess. My untouched lips… I hated it. Not for the silly, childish reasons most would give to why their first kiss was awful. I hated it cause deep down I was still hurt, but I convinced myself that he was trying.
I was weirdly detached and painfully shy at the time, I think I still am. Anyway I still find it insane that I never quite understood how much of your mind you had lost. When I think about it now I see all the signs…signs I seemed to miss…maybe signs I just ignored. Whatever it was point still remains that I should’ve walked away the moment the abuse started. The bullets from your mouth made it hard to look into a mirror, but I convinced myself that you were right and I’d fix myself. Then the threats and the violence left people asking questions I’d call “Unnecessary”. I still made excuses for your lame ass. When you got drunk and called me names…and all I’d say is “I love you.” When you’d force yourself on me I’d only blame myself.
By now I think anyone reading this is aware of the situation. I apologize if you need more details of your sins, but I have no intense of going that far into memories I promised to forget. I could talk about all the awful things you did, but it would only be a waste. I hate you for destroying my life. You made me detest the girl in the mirror. You’re the reason I had nightmares for the past 4years. THE REASON I STILL FEEL EMPTY!!! How could you claim you love and still hurt me so much, both physically and emotionally!? I was young and had nothing but love for you even though I was breaking inside. I wanted to save you from the dark even though I was losing myself to it. You were my sweet sacrifice! I hurt because you hurt! My heart broke when you told me what they did to you and this was the reason I still smiled even when I was dying inside. I guess instead of pulling you to the light, you pulled me into the dark.
I hate you… I hate your name…your stupid name. One day I’m going to forget your name. I don’t care about the things they did to you! You had no right to break me just because you were broken. If you honestly loved me…I wouldn’t have these scars, not the physical, but the emotional ones. How could you let me believe that I was dirt, that I was nothing but disgusting dirt!? How could you make me hate the world at such a young age!? How could you convince me that death was the only option!? HOW!???…all I did was love you despite the monster you are.
Anyway, you barely cross my mind these days…doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. In fact I think I’d lose my sanity if I saw you. I seem to be doing well, and holding myself together now. I’ve met new people and learned a lot. I even started talking to the people of our past…funny right? Unfortunately this doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you…I can try forget of your existence, but I’m sure that I’d still want to hurt you if I saw you. On the bright side I am not you…and I will never be you. I’m broken but I will still continue loving and caring for others. I pray that one day God will soften my heart and I will forgive you, maybe then all my demons will be put to sleep. Sad part is I’d never hurt you…even if we had to do this all again.
*Blogger’s note. These letters are not for the light-hearted. When I was told this story by the writer I teared up. To get the updates as soon each time a letters comes out follow me on Bloglovin’ or sign up with your email.*
Let me be real,
Much like our situationship, I’ll keep this short and sweet. So I have two things to say. Thank you and f**k you.
I’ll start with the latter. F**k you for playing me when I gave you a love so unconditional that even a nun would say, “You should probably ask for something in return, my dear”. For making me wonder if I was ever out of my mind to let the hostel dealer woo me into his weed stained clutches. For tricking me into thinking that we were probably something like Romeo and Juliet just because you’d knock on my door at 2 in the morning for a late night session. Funny enough, I knew you were all wrong for me. Heck, everybody and their mother’s mother knew you were wrong for me. But how could I help it when you’d stumble about in a drunken haze and only stop when you saw me and say “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen”.
You shot me down hard. Why did you have look at me like a wild, exotic animal that you’d never quite seen before. Why did you stare me down from the other end of the hallway like the only thing stopping you for coming for me was that ka law on public conduct and possible eviction?
You drove me crazy.
Little did I know that you were stalking and watching me from a distance through your hunting gun, wondering how you’d chop me up into small little organized pieces if given the chance. You sick bastard.
But truth was, I really wasn’t a “wild and exotic” animal at all. More like new and fresh meat, yet to know the feeling of a bullet wound to my side. Even still I eventually let you catch me and you cut me so deep that I bled out for weeks.
F**k you for the memories. I remember the sexy nights in your man cave where you’d so primitively try to get me high and drunk enough to sleep with you. I remember us sitting in the dark as we’d watch Yankee Zulu on your TV screen as you’d blow smoke circles in the air and watch me catch them with my mouth if they were perfect. We were so high!
It was all great until you asked me to move closer to you, which I did …and a bit more closer, which I did. Then my heart raced cause I’d never really been so close to a guy before. You, on the other hand, clearly knew what you were doing. You quickly grabbed and squeezed me and stole my first kiss.
It was all 50 Shades of Grey, Chapter 2 worthy until we got somewhere to chapter 4 where the night got heated and I really didn’t wasn’t ready to lose my virginity when you said “Listen, I’m not a bad guy and I really don’t want to rape you” so you politely told me to leave …
F**k you 1 million times. But you were a nice guy and let me pick my shit up and leave in rage like a fool.
Yet, despite the large amount of emotional pain that seeped out of my imaginary estrogen-ic fueled love wounds, I guess there’s also a lot to thank you for. Apart from being that fire that burned so intensely under my fleshy palm, you ended up being one heck of a lesson learned.
Thank you for teaching me that I should never put something on the table that I don’t want anybody else to start eating. For teaching me the importance of modesty and how intense of a feeling lust can be (am I preaching to the menstruation nation?).
You also taught me to NEVER accept any type or form of conditional love from a man and to even forgive those around me who have not asked for forgiveness. Thank you for helping me set my standards higher in the love department because with it came a certain level of self-respect. Finally, thank you so much for having featured in my life – you were never really a regret but instead a lesson learned that I surely deserve better.
That Fresher *freshman* That Didn’t Know Any Better.
*Blogger’s note… Hey ya’al.I don’t generally swear on the blog but my intention is to keep these letters as real as possible.Directly from the writer to the reader because these are real situations with real people. Don’t forget to follow me on Bloglovin’
To The Gentleman I lost:
Before I begin my letter, let me first state that no man I have loved till date has made me feel the way you made me feel when we were dating. No one treats me with so much respect and values me as much as you did. And for that I appreciate from the depths of my heart.
With you what we shared was true, and bound to last forever. I literally believed you were the husband that God had set aside for me. You matched most of the things I had on the list for qualities of a husband. And kissing? Sex? That was totally out of the question because you respected me and my body and vowed to not do anything until we both said I do.
I was so young when I met you, 17 to be precise. And you were ready to settle down and marry me even the following year but it was all so new for me.
Was I ready for marriage?
Was I going to be making the biggest mistake of my life?
But you were mature enough to make a decision to marry me after I was done with high-school and you said you would sort out my finances for university. And as a young girl who always dreams for her prince charming to come and sweep her off her feet I knew my search was over.
But as I shared the news with my family, my mum wasn’t up for the idea. It broke my heart to know that if I continued this relationship I would lose my mom’s support. And even though we fight sometimes, I respected and loved her enough to make a decision based on her reaction. Sadly what we shared had to come to an end after one year, but it was painful and hard.
The hardest part was that you found someone else to replace me as soon as you could and it killed me.
Two years have passed and we talk, once in a while, but I miss you and wish we could forget the past, get back together, and have what we once shared.
Dear Guy I chased/ She’t*,
I have a scar named after you. It’s on my right leg, right under my knee. It’s quite a long scar, about 3 cm, and it’s taking its time healing. I got it trying to walk quickly after you one night in the City. But you were too far away and you were walking way too quickly, so I walked into a pole and bled out quite a bit. That was the only time that you stopped, you paused, looked back, asked if I’m okay then continued walking. I wish someone would have stopped me and told me
that you were not worth chasing.
That this scar on my knee was only a visual interpretation of the scar that you would leave on my heart. A deep gaping scar, one that would ooze pain that would take months and months to heal.
I wish someone had told me that even when I’d point out this hurt to you, all you would do is pause, look back, and ask if I’m okay then walk out of my life, with a small insignificant apology.
I wish I’d know that my heart would take its time to heal and bleed out… a lot.
It would be unfair to label your existence in my life as only pain and heartbreak without acknowledging the many times we enjoyed each other like how we frequently had a good laugh about nothing and anything. We talked about everything from rap music to politics, from apologetics to the weather.
It would also be unfair to say that you broke my heart without me playing a part. I watched you do this to me, without taking a step back and protecting myself until it was too late. Somehow I convinced myself that we were right for each other, but I was so terribly wrong and you didn’t even fight yourself from showing your horror at this notion. When I pointed out this warped idea to you, your facial expression was enough to snap me out of this fantasy.
It took me humiliating myself to realize you were not what I thought you were. I thought we were much more than mere friends, Christian soldiers in this war. I thought we had chemistry, but you’re not even a scientist.
I thought we were a duo; that we’d make beautiful duets, but I was as wrong as the sun rising at dusk and winter coming between summer and spring. And your face showed me that fact. Your face revealed what was on my heart this whole time. It took me humiliating myself to realize that what I had felt this whole time was a lie burying the truth inside of me.
Sometimes I look back and wonder what I saw in you, what was so attractive about you? Was it how you spoke? The attention that you gave me? Why did I feel like you were pursuing me? Was it all a creation in my head? A fantasy that apparently was coming to life before my very eyes?
I’ll be honest, I struggle. I struggle now to identify what was extraordinary about you. Every time I try and come up with something my mind reminds me of how unremarkable you were. You’re a great person, I think. You’re fair, you’re moderate, you’re ordinary and there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact that’s perfect if you want to remain unmemorable. And that’s absolutely fine. I just don’t know if I can forgive myself for seeing something in you. For investing my time and emotions into a venture that would leave me bankrupt, that would leave me gasping for air, groping in the darkness when the lights of life have been turned off.
It took me a while to think about you without expletives escaping my lips.
I remember with dread the last conversation that we had.
I remember how bad I felt saying goodbye to you for the very last time. But I also remember the relief that I’ve felt ever since.
I wish it didn’t take me as long as it did to gain the courage and proof to do what I did on that Monday before Christmas. I wish that it didn’t hurt as much as it did, but I’m glad that it hurts, because I will never make the same mistake again. Ever. I think I gave you too many chances to ‘’change’’ and unfortunately, I simultaneously gave myself too many chances to get hurt. I took something that wasn’t serious too seriously, and that’s left scars that will take a long time to heal.
I’ve hated acknowledging the beauty of these scars, these real life tattoos, but they make me even more beautiful, they make me wiser. Now, I’ll be able to spot another you from a mile away, and this time I won’t try and keep up with him, at night in the City. I won’t get my leg, or my heart hurt, trying to keep abreast with another thoughtless imbecile. At least next time, thanks to you, I won’t get that scar on my leg right under my knee and my heart will be unscathed.
*She’t comes from the Hebrew feminine noun שאת, probably meaning ruin or devastation (Found in Lamentations 3:47 only). This feminine noun is related to the Hebrew meaning and etymology of my subject’s real name. Its meaning resonates with my experience with this person. NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH THE EXPLITIVE!