I want to be here.
Actually, that’s a lie,
I had doubts.
I considered going to a Nandos instead but it’s a Saturday.
I was disappointed to see the queue.
I decided to continue walking and there, 10 feet, I saw a Costa.
Is this why people always come to coffee shops with their laptops?
I’m the one looking.
Everyone else is in their element.
You see I have this thing,
I won’t call it paranoia, but I always think people are looking at me.
A lot of times I’m wrong,
cause when I do look at their direction,
they don’t even know I exist.
Then again I am short-sighted.
So why would I trust these eyes?
These cinnamon rolls are Peng!
Exquisite is the word.
Don’t say I didn’t give you the plug.
Oh, and just so you know, I take off the orange stuff they put on top.
Ok back on the topic.
My journey here was full of rage.
I was angry and so ready to write exactly how I felt.
The words would have spoken for itself.
It’s gone now.
I guess I should write as soon as I feel.
I sound like such a good writer once it comes.
It’s funny cause I’m always on the train when the words flow,
but I’m not settled and I can’t even count the number of notes I have on my phone,
so I just let pour.
It’s all in my head,
and I probably won’t remember it by the time I get to a place where I can write.
(I think I need to work on this).
This actually isn’t going so bad.
I wanted to write about how angry I was.
The words went something like;
“Why am I here?
What is this life that I am supposed to live and just be something?
Why was I dealt with these cards?
I AM NOT OKAY.
I need therapy “.
I was really angry.
The type of anger that you feel in your chest.
It’s like a Knife that not piercing but still there enough.
Am I forcing this writing thing?
Cause I feel like I’m just sitting here acting like Shakespeare.
Like my words will be read for centuries.
Why are we still learning about him and Aristotle anyway?
Are there not new greats?
I wanna be one of them.
Not for the “thou, thine or lo’s”.
But just a person that wrote.
That could paint a picture of what life offers through my words.
That’s what I want.
I feel like this will be the longest read ever.
I have so much to say but I feel like I’m on a journey right now as I type this.
The destination, however, is not clear.
I just said I hate my life in my head but – is that true?
Maybe 50% true.
I love who I am.
I love the things my mind creates.
I love the gaps I get when it just rushes down my brain.
Then I’m hit with reality.
If I am so good and so creative, a force to be reckoned with,
Why am I still here?
Why is my life like this?
Why won’t he chose me?
Why does no one move to me?
Why am I always overlooked?
WHY am I a child of my mother?
She seems to live in this world that I am not in.
A world where life is beyond what we see and surrounded with spirits, forces and The Almighty God.
I don’t think he listens.
Mum said I have an aura that reads “Fake and Lies.”
(Insert the Soulja boy meme.)
I feel like I am the realest one in these streets.
What’s fake is every single person in this world.
I’ve binged watched a number of Michaela’s interviews,
she kept talking about clarity and transparency.
I was like “Yep!”
That’s what in I want.
I spoke to the situationship bae and we had a good conversation.
I was clear and transparent.
I believed he was too.
So please tell me why two days later his girlfriend is being introduced to the church?
I can hear your reply.
Don’t bother I’m not listening.
Why I am is hurt.
First, swear word in here.
There were so many of them the version in my mind.
On the train.
I stopped and told myself;
“You swear too much.”
Guess I don’t.
I’ve finished my two cinnamon buns and I’m just typing because I can to be honest.
This clarity thing seemed great.
It really did.
But I’ve learnt quickly how much unfolds when you decided to live by it.
But then doesn’t it save time?
I wasted 3 years with that guy.
If he should text me right now, guess who would reply in a heartbeat?
(I’m saying with my hand raised up by the way).
Like a child who has just been asked; “Who wants sweets?”
I know that’s not gonna happen.
He won’t call me.
The one that was hurt was blocked by the hurter.
It’s actually ridiculous.
I sent him a text on how hurt I was and how I wished him all the best.
I also said he played me, which he did.
He said he didn’t want a relationship.
He also said he wanted us to just be friends.
I’m the one that held on.
He hurt you Abi,
and that’s it.
There are no excuses for his actions.
I hope you are-
I’ll give you an update one year from now.