Am I crazy? Why can’t I just leave? You’re not right for me…I know… but I still do love you. I am bound to these imaginary chains you placed me into. I am beautiful, classy, smart, and sexy but I chose you. I could have gone for the Derek Romans and Mr. Moxams but am stuck here with you. My mama told me to be wary of men like you who will crush me like a sparrow leaving me to never mend. You vowed to love me and never leave, but I guess words of men are just that…empty words.
It was one cold night. I had just lost my friend in an accident. I was down. Too scared, vowing to die and follow her to the gates of heaven. I was a vulnerable kitten to you, and that’s when your hyena ways took charge. Your smile, that coy smile, those warm and strong arms, not forgetting your calculated words lured me out of this misery. You gave me a shoulder to lean on. I was not the type that opened up to a stranger but my words and tears came trickling down like a waterfall. You were my savior; the long-awaited Knight.
You were funny; my fellow Blondie. Remember you thought that Tupac Shakur was two different people: Tupac and his cousin Shakur and that Tupac meant ‘Two People against Christ. Haha…Only you would come up with such absurd names. You rocked my world. I was happier than I’d ever been. Maybe Shania had sent you as her parting gift to me. I was hooked. Call it witchcraft. I didn’t care. I’d die for you. Hell, I’d cheat death just to be with you forever.
You swept me off my feet. Mr. Romantic was your middle name. The dinners, the surprise dates at Villa Rosa Kibandskis, the spontaneous road trips to Rongai and back. It was always a crazy moment with you. I wasn’t looking for love, but I found you, though hopeless we made it hopeful. My friends and family were all amazed by you. ‘Marry this guy. He is the best guy you have ever dated. If you guys break up, it’ll be your fault’, they said. I couldn’t help but laugh. Somehow I thought they were right.
Four months and you started becoming cold. Fewer kisses, fewer calls, fewer dates, less talking. You were distant. Whenever I visited, you’d find fault in anything. I tried. God knows I tried to understand whatever was happening in your life. I stood by you no matter how bad you treated me. And when you almost lost everything, I took your hand and gave you the strength I had to pull you through, but I guess that wasn’t enough. You wanted more. Better than me. I wasn’t woman enough for you. Funny thing is I couldn’t take a hint. Stupidly, I just stuck around, cleaning your house, making you breakfast and dinner, paying your bills; while you loitered around with all the Marys, Brits and Cathys out there.
Friday, 10/11/2016. This was when it all went dark. I remember it like it was yesterday. I struggled to get up after the huge blow you landed on my face. You were in a drunken stupor. I was shocked yet still not surprised that you’d hit me. I had always vowed not to allow any man to hit me. I almost packed my things and left but you begged, and I listened. They say fool me once, shame on you but fool me twice, shame on me. I guess the shame was on me because it didn’t take you long to gift me with another massive blow; the only difference was that you were sober. I’ve always believed that domestic violence was a state that one had been used to and allowed it to happen again and again. Well, if I was trying to test my theory, I guess then I was right.
It took me thirty stitches, two broken arms and two black eyes to leave you. My family still thinks it’s my fault. To them, you’re an angel. I mean, how can a man who brings us presents, bought us a house, paid your sibling’s fees to be at fault. Yes, money talks. I believe that now. All I ever wanted was for you to love me, care for me and be my shoulder like you were. Where did the glittered gold go to? Rumour has it that you moved on and found yourself another victim. Guess you have a type: the vulnerable. Though I wish you the best, I hope she gives you what I couldn’t offer: stubbornness, hatred, don’t care attitude whatever negative adjective you’d think of. In any case, why should you be happy? You deserve to be miserable.
I am hurt. I cried. My eyes are swollen, and I’m afraid I can’t gather enough strength to pull through. I have tried to forget about you. I even tried those white people things, retreats, and yoga but I can’t seem to hate you like I should. Don’t get me wrong. I hate you, but deep down am trying to sugar-coat the love I will always feel for you. You were my true love. Even now as I’m writing this while my stomach turns due to the poison I just took, I wish I could see your face one more time and kiss you. I am done trying to live without you. I am dead inside. I will always love you pudding…
I guess the only lesson I learned, in the end, was that love, is foolish!
Inspired by Little Sparrow-Dolly Parton