One of the most interesting feelings that I have experienced is fear, fear of the unknown to be precise. Not know what will happen next, who the next person you meet could be to you in the future, the words I say what will they determine… Sometimes as I am clicking on this keyboard like I am making music on an invisible piano, I just wonder “What if you are the one?”
Two years ago I could have never guessed how far apart we could be.
There even seems to be a stream of thoughts that pulls us apart.
“Where are you now?”
Wondering down the memory lane and hope to bump into you. Wouldn’t that be a wonder? You would catch me typing a message only to delete it again… Type and delete. Type and delete. Maybe you will finally say, “I am doing well…” and we can take it from there. That is highly unlikely as you are typing on other peoples profiles and I can’t blame you as I am doing the same. Fear has gripped me though. I miss the days when you would just know when I was upset, when I needed a R100, when I could “borrow” your clothes and keep them forever. Now, everything has changed you know. I wonder if we both had daughters would that help. Maybe they would be friends and somehow we would find the way to each other. Or better yet, weave bed time stories that warn them about losing a friend in our early twenties so they make better choices.
My mother used to tell us this one story about being weary marrying foreign men. Its not like that trick ever worked, the first guy I ever dated was Congolese and he was great — he might have been emotionally unstable but he was a nice person to have around. To be honest, I never understood that guy’s mindset. I remember him packing up to go for a “short visit” 8 years ago promising to come back after the festive season. Just goes to show, I should have listened to my mother since they seem to always know best. He was a good person though nonetheless. He was this skinny guy with a French accent, who liked light skinned girls. I remember when he told me about another girl he had dated, when I looked her up online I could hardly get over how we were so similar. High cheekbones, plump lips like a fully grown peaches ready to fall off the twig… I guess that was his preference. He was my first real boyfriend, godly boyfriend.
What is funny is that after that incidence I got over “godly boyfriends“, you know the ones you meet at church who have Jesus at the center and I just thought a guy is just a guy hey. If I am not godly how can I be looking for a godly person? Naturally, the poor lad could never stand a chance.
But when I took a step back I started to think:
“Why am I even on this path?”
“Am I okay?”
Of course there is that longing that comes around whenever I see some IG captions and those songs about wearing someone’s t shirt and desire to be held etc… But when those feelings go away I also start to think… Why in the world did I want that? I guess what I am trying to figure out is whether I will ever be content with this feeling?
I know someone who is. What I can’t quite get past is the loss of my best friend. Its quite strange, probably because she is the last person I described this one person to and I can’t quite remember what I said and thus I would like her to come back to her senses so we can talk again. You can’t really make someone talk to you hey. They can respond to your messages but you can’t make them talk like they used to, like pour out their soul into your heart. I can’t do that either, so you hope that one day you can strike up a convo with another girl and they’ll just perfect for that day.