ADDICTION-CONFESSIONS.

My Fridays were never your kind of Fridays. My Fridays meant something else. I fancied the ‘TGIF’ locution every morning appearing all over but what fascinated me was how I’d get to see her that night. See, I’d turn up at her door by 10 in the night, sometimes; earlier. She would expect me. We texted twice or thrice throughout the entire journey, the first time would be an invitation, the second bit ‘nimetoka town’ and the last bit would be ‘am at your gate.’  Simple! This changed over time.

She always canceled her plans for the weekend because someone special would always show up. Someone, who’d figuratively fill her apartment with life and love, I was the charmed one.

Neat whiskey, delectable food, marijuana and poetry filled the night.

She loved when the moon was in its fullness. When the stars worshipped its majestic glory!

While the rest of the demography learnt the alphabet, we were deep into poetry and rhyme! I got addicted. I lost her through the addiction. She still is my addiction.

I dream. Last night, I saw her. Twice!

The story goes on…

What if she never liked a thing we did?

What if she was past my rhyme and deed?

What I meant nothing?

What if I LIED?

What this is all but a dream?

What if the moon casts its beams no more?

Along the journey, I’d write her poetry in my mind. Dance in the rain with her. Run through the boulevards, her hand deeply married into mine. I thought we’d last long. Longer than the Nile…my heart sent her postcards from its deepest corners but it’s too long a mile to reach her now.

On this particular day, I got to her drama rehearsals early. I carried fried chicken and chocolate. Igiza was the name of her theatre group. JKUAT comrades know well where these pundits ply their trade. She wore a black trench-coat, a purple blouse and white tights with purple finishes running through it. Her boots were black this time round. She was pleasing to look at. Everyone in the hall turned to the door where I was standing. My mind never saw their eyes. I knew who I wanted and she knew I was there for her. We met midway through the hall and tightly hugged as she escorted me to the back of the hall just to get to know how I was doing and I to know about her. Her eyes were radiant on seeing the little gifts I got her. She was famished! She cut a piece, put in her mouth then wrapped back what remained and then ran off to carry on with her rehearsal. Soon it was over. We couldn’t wait to get home!

This was euphoric.

Do I miss these times? Hell yeah, I’d trade my soul for her.

But as the script goes, I got nonchalant. I broke her heart severally, even though I was never a cheat. We never put our house in order and it fell! I’m hankering for the days when a thousand miles was a second away. When our hearts beat for each other!

I let her go!

She remains my addiction!

 

 

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WHISPERS OF A BROKEN MAN

Its 3:30 in the morning and no sleep seems to want to have a relationship with me tonight.  Don’t you think that God was just showing us whose boss when He created mosquitoes? I think so too. How can such tiny creatures cause you, yes you with hair beneath your armpits lack sleep? I mean, what is life?  That whining sound right on your tragus; right there where you want to hit it so bad but it will mysteriously escape a wrath unfathomable. Yes Lord, you run the world.

I decide to sit up.

 To sit my shirtless back against cement plastered wall of a Nairobi bedsitter. I wrap off my blankets off my feet and throw them to a corner. I can’t really tell where they fell. My room is dark. My curtains define opaque. How else are you king of your kingdom if you cannot tell black from gray when blindfolded? That’s what I tell myself whenever I want to get to the bathroom without switching my lights. This time, no bathroom, no lights just the flashes of a charging laptop. I accurately rampage my fingers through the floor to find my laptop and borrowed headphones. Just what I need! I press the power button on my laptop. With this laptop, you are putting your patience to test. So, I get my phone right from where I put it. Right there, on top of my SAYONA Sub-woofer; what’s wrong with humanity, I think through myself; it’s not hoofer! Get it!

I press it twice. Surprise…it’s on!

When God said, let there be light, this is what He meant.

I slide my thumb down the home screen and switch on the cellular data. I pick the alternative option and ignore the better option. I count one to two and messages trickle in fast. Who created Whats App groups? I ask myself.

My laptop is still booting. I press ESC.

I patiently give the messages right of way into my now hanging phone. They stop.

And now, I officially open my Whats App application.

I skim through the chats without really opening them. I quickly slide to my Whats App contacts. I know where I want to scroll to. I know who I want to look at. My heart is excited for a second because alas! My lappy is finally asking for a password. Do I want to use it really?

My eyes and thumb both rest on letter S on my Whats App contacts. I scroll down a little more. This time, slowly. I skip past one, two, six, seven contacts and my eyes rest on this one particular contact. I click on her display photo without really opening a new chat with her. As the display picture is loading, I plug my borrowed headphones to my laptop. Right there on the desktop is my salvation; my escape.  I smile for a second and click once, twice and Taboo by Phy has my soul captured. Her soulful voice opens my heart to a new hope. Damn! Phy is good!

 She looks just like her mother. The dimples on her face are perfection and diligence on God’s part. I look at her and my heart folds a bit. Memories stream in fast. I look at her once more and the room gets too cold. My heavy curtains are swayed by a light breeze. Did I lock the window? I ignore the doubt and keep leering at her. The breeze gets stronger. I am convinced that I slept with my windows unsecured. I do nothing about the thought. Nothing happens friend, stop building suspense where none exists.

I connect myself and the beautiful image of contact ‘S’ to the audio; to Phy’s world. But this is just wishful thinking. A fallacy I am trying to create. I cannot question the authenticity of the song or the intentions of Phy out to her audience. So, the image here is not it. Not with either of us in it. But Phy makes a lot of sense. Doesn’t She? This is me in utopia. Phy’s world does not exist. If it does, I should be fast asleep connecting with my Taboo in dreamland.  But do you see where I fall?

Time flies fast! 5:06 already?

I flip down my laptop screen without really shutting it down. I pull off the borrowed headphones off my head as I try to support myself stand from my brand new super-form high density mattress. I stretch a little bit then lazily take about four and a half steps to my bathroom. Nothing is on the way to stop me or make me cautious. I push the latch and the door is open. I don’t really need the lights. Do I? I position myself perfectly and take my aim. I am good. This was literally an urgent call. The drip was too fast; or maybe, just loud. It served me well so I shook it and snapped my shorts back to my waist. I walked out same way I came in; only this time round I had a flush ovation. I felt good inside.

 I still could not sleep but lay myself in a prostrated position only this time I was looking up.

 I thought about her.

 I smiled bitterly and took a deep breath pulling the blankets up my thorax.

5:09 AM.

lonely-man