Hello...is it me you are looking for?
Love shoulda brought me back home!
She never calls again. The enthusiasm that we once shared is gone. She never writes as well. Come to think even the sms’s are usually replies not induced from her own free will. She is slipping away…and the harder I try to cling on the further I push her. She hates walking down memory lane. Likes when we hang out with my pals or hers…but never alone. She no longer picks me up from work. Never gets me my favorite novels or favorite DVD’s. She no longer lives and breathes for me like she used to…or like I live and breathe for her. I was her earth and she the moon that revolved around me. But she was and is my sun- I revolve and rotate around her and for her.
Funny how all this started. It was her who did the flirting, she practically did the chasing as well. She was more interested way before I was. Once we clicked nothing could have pulled as apart. Finished each other’s sentences. Felt each other’s presence like the time I was upstairs and you were running late and I felt it when you entered the building. Soulmates. She fell in love and I quickly tripped after.We were happy, she knew it I knew it. A match made in heaven that no man or woman could ever divide…but there was one mortal enemy that defeats any form of adultery-TIME!
With time she grew used to me. I don’t know when but the signs were there. I stopped being funny-you no longer laugh at my jokes. I stopped being interesting. I remember you not wanting to sit with me in class. You did not want endless phone call conversations. I was getting plain to you. You even had legitimate excuses to cancel dates which before it’s the excuses you would have cancelled on. As in you woke up one morning and everything had changed?
The power of rejection is quite shattering. It’s never an ego thing nor the humiliation. But the realization that for starters your love is actually greater than hers. You love her more and its not fair! Secondly for you to feel rejected means that at once you were accepted. At one point in time all was well and you were happy-but not anymore. Rejection is a blow to the heart and self-worth. It’s an outward show of disregard, lack of interest and worst of all change of heart. Having loved and been loved and then having lost somewhere along the way!
I think getting dumped is even better. I know being cheated on is acceptable. But being there when a person has metarmorphosised completely towards you, yet claiming nothing has changed-that right there-is what causes a deep pit full of sadness. When you realise a smile is forced. When you get hints of boredom. When even meeting seems like such a strained effort. And when you enquire she makes you feel like such an insecure adolescent. In the end you feel like a child that’s lost his way. You used to be so confident and sure. You were near arrogant but have been reduced to humiliating levels that are below begging. You fret and whine about the distance…you complain when she doesn’t return your calls…you can’t understand why she is not thinking of you 24/7…you have become a bitch…a sissy…cannot function…gone past being whooped...to the point even you know it’s not healthy.
So why don’t you put me out of misery! Be done with me-say it’s over! Call it quits. Break my heart completely not partially. I was never one to be a defeatist, but I have given up. There is nothing more I can do. What you fell in love with way back then is still here. I have never changed. You loved me then and it’s unfortunate that that is now not enough. It’s even more unfortunate that you were all I will ever want. Letting you go won’t be as heart breaking as how I have watched you letting me go! Perhaps I’m reading you wrong…perhaps nothing has changed…but it’s these kind of doubts and debates I will no longer continue having for I’m getting weak. I can’t be the only one analyzing us. So if it’s what you really want, if it’s over, it was not my fault- I hope. I will do the manly thing now…and stop caring!
(A series of Spidey Short Stories. This however perhaps is not a work of fiction like the last. Any similiarity to actual events and persons...time and place...is not entitely coinicdental)
3. Lunch Room.
So at Consolata. We had a lunch room that was run with the utmost efficiency. Heck lower school would first feed followed by upper school. A nice change…there is equality so no need for shame. There was enough food and better yet there was seconds. So Monday and Tuesday was Rice and Stew. Tuesday and Thursday was the best Bread and stew of beef cubes or hotdog cubes or sausage cubes. Friday was fish …
Now for some reason unknown to me then was I’d always get food poisoning over the weekend. In the words of a primary school kid…I’d have a stomach ache and stomach problems…loosely translated I’d have cramps and diarrhea. Saturdays were a drag.
After abstaining from all things chili: chevra, chevda, sauce…the loose phenomenon was still a problem. A carton of Imodium later…some packets of Bisodol later…some sand dunes of Eno later…it was discovered that fish was the main culprit. So Friday it was back to packed lunch!
4. Small mercies.
-Carrying sandwiches to school. Height of advancement. This happened once in a life time.
-A pal of ours named Charles used to have his house help prepare buckets of Chips. Those nice, yellow, oily chips that you swallowed without chewing. She’d bring them at lunch time-hot. And our dear friend, Charles, didn’t just share the chips he made us earn those chips. Place them a good distance and may the fastest make merry. (Cue ‘best things in life are free now that I’ve discovered what you mean to me!”) Off we’d dash …cheap amusement-he’d laugh at us for we had no pride…some of had no pride nor speed...I think that’s where the phrase came from of real fun for real good food. We’d fine tune our rugby skills pushing and shoving for that box of chips. We’d get all ghetto, ending victoriously if you had yourself a handful of greasy chips. Afterward you’d returned to your disowned thermos was abandoned and emptying its putrid contents in a nearby dustbin. Later at home you would lie how you cleared all your food.
-Occasionally lunch would be brought for you from town. Yup cholesterol laden samosas, sausages, burger and chips. Note I did not use the word “or”. Yaani nothing spells over-fed like an only-child! Gulp! Gulp!...choke! choke!…Lord help me please… pass me some water...Glug! Glug!…munch! munch! … There is this one time I choked…and not cause food entered the windpipe, but because food was in the food pipe and not going down. (Perhaps more food was going in than going down.)You needed a wheelbarrow to take you to class. You needed Jesus to digest. Those afternoons would take a week to pass by.
-Sneaking in a ‘cool’ was a height of truancy. You’d have a ‘cool’ hidden in your sweater as you silently sipped at it during triple math. And the teacher was more impressed at your lips turning green than at your L.C.M/BODMAS skills.
-Asians used to have some interesting goodies. Perhaps cause your tongue only knew of githeri and rice. But if an Asian pal offered you food…you took it...you maybe unable to pronounce it but it was a given it tasted good. That’s when I discovered cauliflower goes with anything: pizza, samosas, bread...I think cauliflower was the answer to everything. Asians were also the masters of deceit. You feed on that food, it tastes like a beef, smells like beef…but there is no trace of beef. Yaani Ndengu pekee! Ndengu solo. Ndengu could be so well disguised…and to think at home you kick and fuss.
5.White lies-that I used.
There was nothing as bad as going home with a thermos that was rattling. Note the rattling was not from chicken bones that you had left inside. Because trust me if you carried chicken those bones were displayed well or all to see you had chicken for lunch. No the sound was from the glass flask that was now just glass.
Woe unto you if it was the large thermos…which you had been bought for because you were now a big boy, and a responsible one!
-Er you see… another boy was running by like a madman and knocked over my bag and hence the thermos broke.
-A hawk was coming at me since I was carrying chapo(again_…I panicked and dropped the bag, running for cover…and hence the thermos broke.
-It’s broke? Let me see! I didn’t break it!
6. Juice moments.
Before quencher there was Tree-top. Before those unbreakable juice bottles that had star wars on them...damn those thing were cute, sturdy and jisty with a straw. Anyway before those were those Dog-like juice bottles that came in all colors. And dont forget the magic use of a polythene paper to prevent leakage.
Sometimes you carried milk. Sometimes you carried water with a drop of juice a.k.a squash. So dilute the confusion quenched your thirst!