Thursday, June 25, 2009

her story

She stood absolutely still, trying to wean off this thought that had come not less than a thousand times in her head. The question she really didn’t believe but snuck up on her as this hunger did, she closed the fridge with a long sigh. The cold breeze reminding her slightly of places she missed and places she was grateful to be away from as she closed her eyes and let it sweep over her face.
She wonders a lot about the choices she made in men, in loves, great loves and lust. Was it all not meant for her? Was she not good enough? Thin enough? She thought and believed of her beauty, in and out. She had had motivators in her life that had molded her into a proud young woman, but the hard work she did herself, standing firm for what she believed in, trusting and loving those close to her. Or maybe she was too good??
She smiled and went on with her thoughts trying to retrace what had led her to this bitter point, had her shouting propaganda at folks’ cars as they honked jubilantly away in convoys. She’s mad. Not at the world but at herself, at her choices and at her surroundings for daring to give her such options in the first place. But she knows she’ll get over it soon, she’ll take a drag of that green and make it what it should be, when it hits her and try to make it last as she fights the urge to scream -sometimes to cry.
Love isn’t all she craves, though they come long, hard and makes her body shudder. She has dreams, dreams that reach beyond what she can see, dreams that capsize her mind, dreams she would die for. Dreams no one knows. Dreams that make her smile, warm and jolly. Dreams that sadden her, that beat her up and brings her down with feelings of futility. Seems all she wants does. So she smokes, she grasps on the little of inspiration as it comes and holds on for dear life, she smokes more and waits for it again. It tires her.
Love. As she craves it is of beauty, of truth and purity. It has never been of anything else as long as she remembers but now more defined; she knows what she wants and knows what she doesn’t. But love and she have never been on same sides. Her defense is vigilant, but this is a reflex of showing heart break. She dares not do that, worse than the tears, she must not show emotion where she can’t later take back or play off with a little bit of coyness. Truly. It takes her back to many times she was told -just like she had many times been told how she looked so unapproachable, and no idea why… -that she was perceived as a person who would "go" with the flow, and no idea WHY!
She had made it so like she had made many things in her life exactly the way they were.


Gino Obuseng

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