Good morning. I’ve woken up motivated and upbeat, and the balls are merrier than yours.
I’ve just woken up ravenous and sluggish, but the balls are jubilant.
It’s sometimes a huge burden to have these balls. I try to love them, and most times, I do. But these marbles can cause stinging pain and misery.
It gets worse when they’re starved. Yesternight, this left one began howling like a lost hyena in the middle of the night. Then the right one joined. The cause of all this mayhem?
A Nairobi woman.
There’s this girl that’s been my friend for a long time. That’s all I wanted from her–friendship. I’ve confided in her so many truths. She knows a ton of stuff about me than none of the ghels I’ve served juice knows.
Damn! This girl has called me in the middle of the night asking if I had taken my midnight snack when she knows I’m the type that eats the meal, the snack, the pudding, and the nyokonyoko yote in one full swoop.
This girl is extremely attractive, but never had I noticed she has a sexual appeal until ’em balls began haranguing me over my blindness tor her beauty.
Now the balls want me to betray our friendship an ask for the osweges. That isn’t the hard part.
The problem is, the balls have now corrupted my thoughts. Everything she does now seems suggestive. Now I don’t only see the friend, I see the woman; nubile and appetizing. I’ve tried to restore my sight to friendship settings, but I see all the things I shouldn’t be seeing.
Walimwes, should I retain the friendship or do as the balls say and ask for her juice?
I scratched my Agak’s apple
My voice box got torn
Still, the bandages won’t hold water
Just crimson seeds of self-hate
So I cry,
Somebody save me
From the brutal I
I lost the sight
Of a future so bright
I lost the identity, No longer the me I knew
Seen by many understood by few
I lost the path
To knowing what am worth
Been told am useless
But they a’int maskless
Hiding the fires in their eyes
Tryna burst my highs
If I cant be them, I don’t exist
To be me they wont resist
They wanna be me
They’d love to me
But they are lost
Hating what they’d love most..
I am lost…They are lost
We need each other to find the way
It may sound rather stupid asking yourself such a question but as those who lived in this godforsaken planet said- don’t judge a man until you have walked for a whole month in his moccasins, please do not rush with your how-the-hell-does-it-concern-me attitude.
I am but a humble young man who is trying to make a honest living. I have people who I should be dependent on or atleast they think I should be dependent on them but I chose to toil, sink my fingers into the swampy world of writing to make something of my own. To be honest If nothing is going to change about my current working situation then I am sure I will never be rich or to be optimistic I guess I shall stop writing and seek formal employment. lot said already, my job situation is not the problem am facing now or atleast I have got used to it. My biggest problem is the belief that people have that I am living well, the moment a person hears that I am a writer and I earn online his whole perception of me changes. In his mind I become more than a friend, something sort of a donor, an ATM that they can rush to whenever they need cash! its quite absurd.
I have friends who do not believe I can lack money , they think I am a miser; I just save but I don’t spend. they think I live in the slums just because I like to portray myself as a hustler but the truth is I am just that – a broke fellow who lives from hands to mouth with hopes that soon things may go better and I will be able to pick my shattered dreams off the paths tread by losers.
I am not trying to say that no friend should call on me for help, I just want you to know that I am not doing any better, I am just like you! so when I tell you I don’t have enough to spare please believe me!