From the archives... (2)

So I promised that every week till the end of May, I'll put out tidbits of stuff I wrote a long time ago.  I wrote tons of stuff (Most of which I have deleted) in my Facebook notes. This was written on the 4th of May, 2010. Violence is bad. People die from it. As a kid, stories were told of people who died merely cos someone pushed them and they fell not knowing they had underlying illnesses. I simply believe people who indulge in violence despise themselves. Why go to jail when you can be free? In school, violence appeared cool. people were mobbing people, girls were beating up girls for boys. If you say you've never fought, you'll get mocked to the heavens and back. Somehow my silence on the matter saved me the trouble cos I truly believe I can slap you and you'll now come and die, then I'll go to jail just like that? nah B! That's not in my life's plan. I'm going to go to the ICC/ICJ to do great stuff.
I was taught as a kid never to fight. My folks believe talking solves everything. Maybe that's why I became a lawyer. If I like you, I can talk you to death (not literally). At a point I believed I could talk my way to heaven. All I needed to do was to convince Jesus and Jehovah that everything was done for good :)


So here it is;

The Break Up

I don’t want this life, I'm not sure I do. Writing letters or notes never works. It'll always be misconstrued. This is what happens. He thinks he's in my head. He thinks he sees my thoughts ahead of me. We no longer communicate...what do you tell a man who says he can hear your thoughts?

I watch him march around the house...I slither into a corner looking round like prey caught by the tail. I watch the Fridge slam shut, I shiver.

It’s another morning, my mind is frantic...can hear it whirring, what do I say to him? He mustn’t suspect...he mustn’t know I’m out of his mental trap.

I switch on my robot mode...he's back to the bed. He fumbles with my body, am detached...I watch him from eyes unseen. She moves unspoken feeling his engorged member. I feel her struggle for words but none seems appropriate. He mounts her. My heart wails for her. In a few moments, it’s over.

I move back in, I console her. He mustn’t know the torture's almost over.

Am exchanging certainty for uncertainty. They don’t understand. Am not seeking for what’s better cos I wont know it when i see it. My mind's muddled though made up. I've seen no greener pastures. Am shedding my fear.

He's up. Straight to the bathroom to clean up. I hear the water running. It’s stopped. He's getting out...out the front door. I’m glad. Hmmm! A sigh of relief.

Relaxation, my thoughts flow, intertwining with each other...I hear a sound, he's back.

He talks, I can’t hear him. It’s disturbing. I can’t be in a room with him for too long without feeling there's something I must do to stop him being angry. But I never know what i should do. I don’t feel at home. I'll definitely let go.

'Yes baby, alright' I switch on my autopilot. How long it will last, I can’t tell.