*******FIGHTING FOR LOVE******
I’ve longed for someone to understand the nuances of my personality – even the tiresome,lazy and complicated and imperfect parts. That someone that smirks and laughs at me for waiting a week to fold the laundry or waiting a day to wash all the dishes.
I’ve hoped for that companion that I could,laugh ,cry and grimace at the same indie house flicks with me, joining me in the playful excitement in the deviant act of sneaking wine and homemade popcorn past the gate check in the cinema. Soaking the locally processed tapioca”gari” with all the necessary things that make it richer and fun., someone who can play raw when I go crazy,scold me when I go wrong, gossip things to me like I’m his better half. Say intelligent things when I need to hear them, someone who was physically convincing and responsible…I need a real man like one of those in the fairy movies. I’ve wished for that person that would love me no matter how messy my hair or how puffy my eyes were in the morning, probably because I stayed up too late writing what I love or watching Netflix again. I’ve prayed for someone to be my rock in times of inner or outer tumoil; you Know that grounding,good natured, “I’m here for you no matter what” kinda guy. But that’s where my story began
******We enter into the world a soul in a single body. Alone .
And in our loneliness, we yearn and crave for other souls in bodies to share our lives with.
This is natural,this is human.
Getting down memory lane,when I was just 10. I lived a happy life with tremendous characters as family. We all shared our differences,grieves and stories,but we always stood as one. In every twelve they say ,there must be a black bird. I was perhaps the black bird. Dad always brought us together like those moments we were having a moonlight story. He made sure we sat properly and made us laugh to capture our optimum attention. He told us varieties of interesting stories,while mum do the dishes and dovetail the dinner. In all his stories there was always a moral,and each time those morals were whatever he wanted of us,he always framed them into a flowery- word piece. My siblings took the morals,but I always choose the risk. I would risk it to know what repercussion truly surfaces.
Mum had always called I and my elder sister to advise us against the “earthly guys”like she would always tag them. The way she told us those ancient and superstitious stories were so real that I gradually began to believe them. When I turned 14,I began reading journals, newspapers and the rest of ’em. By the time I turned 15,I started writing and as of then, I’d already turned a full femnist. I had the independent notion aura surrounding me. I hated seeing a guy stand to “toast” a girl like they would call it. I took those flowery word’s as past scripts embedded in every guy that emanates from the womb or perhaps those traits came after each womb escape of a baby boy.
**I didn’t believe in the myth called love**
When all of this practically became worse,mum was horrified at the idea that she might have done something wrong; that she might have hurt or even ‘damaged’ me.
I don’t blame her. What good comes of that? Nothing
I had to forgive my parents. I trust and know they had not set out to hurt me. They all started making assumptions that my stubborn and deviant character was all the way I came up from childhood,but don’t tell me, all my problems are down to my childhood … I don’t want to talk about the past.”
Hi hi others, even those closest to me, cannot be trusted, I need to be self-reliant and best look after myself.
I think my achilles heel, based on that childhood memory and probably other episodes, is the fear of abandonment and the tendency to assume, that deep down I am better off taking care of difficult situations myself. Others will only disappoint.
Safe from the fact I was a Scorpio and possessed high character traits of it, the notion was set and I was the notion was set and I was bound to show the world that there was no harm in being an independent boss lady. ……
to be continued……..
Please encourage the writer by rating and commenting for the writer to continue..