What is wrong with you?
Nothing
Nothing…? Are you kidding me right now?
Frankly hun, nothing’s wrong, it’s just that….
Yeah, I get it, It’s just that you are lost, trying to find yourself
blah blah blah, to be honest, I don’t see why you ‘can’t find yourself’ without
dumping me, am I pulling you back?
No, not at all, In fact my friends think that you actually pulling me
forward, me too.
Then why can’t we be? Why do we have to have this conversation every
time?
Hun please just ‘elewa’ (understand) me, we can still be friends.
Friends? Not really, my friends don’t do Kevin’s.
…..Awkward silence……
I didn’t or rather, I couldn’t
bold up and listen to his persistent musings as he stroked his beard, his ugly
sweaty beard, leave alone standing up and telling him what I really felt, how I
just wanted to be on my own and possibly start afresh, and yes with a freshman,
Kevin, but I couldn’t. It was not because Kevin was a first year and would seem
wrong for a third year to date a freshman (like anybody cares) but because so
much was wrong with me, he was right, I was drifting off, way off.
I was at peace though because I
felt that my hands were tied, no, not with the squawky Boy Scout scarf that
Kibet loved to tie my arm to the metal rail on his bed, at least his bottom
half of the bed, these double Decker
ninjas! My hands were tied by the fact that he was adorable, faithful as a
dog, loving, fun and all. Nobody, not even Darth Vader (if you into those
villains character movie things) would harm such an innocent looking moderately
handsome chap with a face, not only her mother would love. So in the end I convinced
my inner self to convince me, that if I could, I would, but since I can’t, I
shan’t.
The truth is, nothing was wrong
with him, but I wanted to break up with him, in fact I did and felt horrible
thereafter but I believe that we all deserve to get what we want, no matter how
many people we have to hurt on our way to our dreams no matter how vague they
are. No? OK, my opinion and what do you
know, you are still short.
Thus to this day I know not why
it couldn’t work, was it his obsession with me? Was it his beard? ‘’That stupid
beard’’ or was it my love for beads which he hated. But I am at peace, I miss
him and I want him back but I am at peace, I know I don’t make much sense but am
trying to believe that I do.
A man is only as ugly as his
beard and as handsome as the beads he dons – Mahatma Gandhi and with
this, I pass my message (offer) to my Kibet, if you are willing to lay off that
beard for some African beads, then maybe, just maybe, I can butter your
breakfast toast once more, and this time, maybe for good, since am much older
now, I don’t get hit on that much this days. I guess that’s my sign that I
might as well settle.
Think about it.
WRITER: Opted to remain unanimous.
