I don’t get people..

I don’t get people who do not read. like, how are you comfortable with knowing so little? it doesn’t bug you there there is so much you don’t know? and i don’t just mean books or novels, i get it, not everyone has the patience for those. but for once, would you Google more than naked women doing deep plunges?(though i don’t know why i know that exists) are you telling me nothing outside your academic work interests you? like you are not interested in metaphysics or quantum physics? like you don’t wanna know Isaac Newton was a mason? so when you are listening to a song and they keep saying this date, it doesn’t occur to you that you should find out what that date stands for? when someone says something as controversial like Mary Magdalene was the among the twelve disciples of Jesus, you don’t get curious at all? no part of you cares to find out if there is any truth to that. or even when you are having a discussion with a friend and the say this word you’ve never heard before, you don’t think you owe it yourself to find out the meaning of that word? its origin, uses, synonyms? i don’t know, there is no part of you that wants to sound intelligent when you are talking to someone? how are you ever going to be able to talk to someone if your academic work is all you know?

I don’t get people who judge others. how do you just sit there and open your mouth and declare that someone is wrong, or indecent, or weak or whatever? you don’t gag at all when you do that? we are all human, so i do not understand what would get into your head to make you believe that you are better than someone else. everyone has their struggles, everyone has made their mistakes. everyone is living their life the best way they know how. so just mind your own business. unless you don’t mind people judging you all the time. unless you don’t mind people breathing down your neck with every bad decision you’ve ever made, don’t judge someone else. and honestly, if you haven’t walked in somebody else’s shoes, you can’t tell what their journey is about. and since we cannot do that, how about you just don’t? its just so rude.

i don’t get people who claim they don’t have feelings. even Satan has feelings for crying out loud. but i think i can understand why someone would say they they don’t have feelings. sometimes life gets so cruel, the only way to get through it is to pretend you feel nothing. the people i really do not understand are these self-declared jerks and bad asses. my God, what is so hard about being nice? you wont die if you let someone go first. you wont die when you say sorry after bumping on someone on the street. look at me, i am so cold, but i am the nicest person you’ll ever meet. and trust me, its not forced. it doesn’t even take up your time. what part about being rude and pretending you don’t care makes you feel so good about yourself? what part about calling someone a bitch, especially when you know they don’t like it, makes you feel like you are having a good time? what part about disrespecting someone makes you feel like a hero?

i do not get people who drink themselves silly. i think that is the epitome of stupidity. what about waking up in an alley or by the roadside spells having a good time? and i understand that there are days you just wanna go out and have a good time, down a bottle or two, forget your misery for a while. its perfectly fine. hell, i think its healthy. but when you do it to the point of passing out. when you drink so much you lose control of yourself, that’s madness. when you do crazy things in the name of loosening up and just seizing the moment, that’s bullshit. that is a lot of things i won’t say(partly because most of the words going through my head are a tad vulgar). but maybe its because i am obsessed with being in control. i do not like losing myself. i do not like not having an explanation for the things i did. i do not like doing things that make me look stupid. hell, i think i am allergic to looking stupid. and maybe that’s why i would never put myself in a position that would lead to that.

but i also do understand that people are different. and everyone cannot live life by my set of rules. so while i do not get these people, i know they are perfect human beings in their own little ways. they all have something to bring to this table of life. and i accept that. if anything, they make life less boring.as you know what they say, variety is the spice of life.

The allure of pain

i keep telling people i am good with pain. i am the kind of person who will rate my pain at eight on a scale of one to ten and still refuse to take painkillers. on most days, its because i hate medicine. but on other days its because there is something about pain that fascinates me. morbid i know.pain is rather grounding; physical or otherwise. it is a reminder that bliss doesn’t last. that things could go south any moment. i think it’s the universe’s way of teaching us to appreciate our happy times. and the good thing with pain, its that that feeling stays; long after you’ve been healed. long after you get over someone. you never forget how hard it was to swallow food, or move your limbs. you never forget those days you missed someone so bad, crying is the only thing you could do about it. you never forget those days you woke up feeling so disoriented and unmotivated. and in your own little way, you strive to make sure you never feel that way again. you take your health more seriously. you look before you fall. you fall with some grace. and while evading pain is impossible, you get hurt again and again. but you learn to deal with it. you learn to laugh at yourself when it hurts. you learn to ignore it. you learn to live your life with pain. you learn that pain never held anyone back. so maybe that’s why i never rate pain beyond an eight. because i have learnt that it could always be worse. that there are people who are going through worse. so i reserve my nine and ten for joy, for happiness. and someday, i know i will be able to rate my happiness at ten. but till then, i keep reminding myself; that things should be better, but they could also be worse. so i am calling it even.

when boys say men are stronger than women..

“men are stronger than women”
yeah of course.
it would be stupid to argue the fact that you can bench more weight than i
it would be stupid to deny that i like it when you carry me
of course you are physically stronger than women
but it would be stupid not to acknowledge there are several dimensions to strength.
and in some things, women are stronger than men.
strength is how your mother carried you for nine months, painfully gave birth to you and still gave you her whole life.
strength is how we bleed for seven days in a row and still go about our days as if nothing is happening
strength is having to deal with cramps; feeling like your lower abdomen is on fire, like the whole world is seated on your back.
strength is trying not to take offence when some cheap dumb ass on the street makes an insulting remark about your breasts.
strength is how everyday is a struggle
how everyday someone struggles to forget the fact that some guy did not need her permission to shove his penis down her vagina
strength is having to sit down and listen to your male friends say shit like men are better than women
strength is how you get so mad but still don’t slap them
strength is how you go outside and take a deep breath
and while you are outside, convince yourself that it is not their fault
how you pretend that you do not blame them for feeling that way
strength is how you try so hard to pretend that you are not upset
so you smile and pretend you did not take that personally
and hope that tonight;
when you cry yourself to sleep
when you pep talk yourself out of overdosing
when those suicidal thoughts come creeping in
when you compare yesterday’s and today’s entry in your journal and realize that there is not much progress
that maybe then you’ll understand its not their fault
that you are still such an emotional wreck
that there are days you wake up and you just hate men
that you still cringe when your best friend sits really close
that there are days you stifle a scream when you hug your male friends
when you realize that you probably won’t ever look at your male friends the same way again
because in just one short sentence, they made you feel so unsafe and nervous
and without even knowing it, they admitted to misusing their strength,
perpetuated this never ending cycle of gender-based violence.
so yeah, men are stronger than women
but maybe if you sat your tiny ass down
and did a little reading
you’d know its only so because you are to protect women and children.


first, i hate hash tags. so you bet if i am hashtaging something, it must be worth it. so this hashtag has been generated in Nairobi, Kenya due to some barbaric events. it so happens that there are some idle men in the streets of Nairobi who take pleasure in stripping women. their reasoning is that these women were indecently dressed. so one minute you are walking and the next there is this gang of men stripping you. how humiliating?? and i thought, i have to say something. but first;

your dress will never be your choice. you will never walk into a corporate office dressed like a stripper and expect no one to tell you nothing. we have dress codes. and codes could be synonymous for rules. and rules should be followed. so technically, your dress has never been your choice. it will never be.

again, your dress will never be your choice. in as much as we would like to personalize morality, some things remain. indecency is indecency. and yeah, there is such a thing as too short, too revealing. there is such a thing as indecently dressed. and you know why that is, because long before the ancestors of your ancestors were born, there was this panel of beings that decided that indecent dressing is wrong. and if history is anything to go by, this was a panel of men. and these men decided that women cannot wear some things. so no, your dress has never been your choice, not to women at least.

but onto the main reason for this post.
so this hash tag is a campaign of sorts. it is a clarion call for women to fight for their rights, not just to wear whatever they wish to, but their right to be respected, their right not to be humiliated, their right to equity. and i get that. hell yeah, i support that. but there is something that bugs me.

its been splashed across social media. everywhere i look i see something along these lines; that men should respect women. because those women could be their daughters, sisters, aunts, nieces, mothers,wives. that just as you strip someone’s sister today, someone could just rape your mother tomorrow. on the surface, this seems logical. but sit down and think about it. what exactly are we telling these men? that you should only respect the people you care about? is that it? so that lady sitting next to you on the bus does not deserve your respect? so we realize that in part we are saying that it is okay to rape, mistreat, abuse, strip that lady who is new in town and is asking for directions? do we realize what is wrong with such a campaign?

so no, men should not just respect women because they could be family. men should respect women because they are human. it’s that straightforward. people should respect people. gender has nothing to do with it. and i am feeling rather geek-ish. so i am just gonna say that it is practically impossible to sketch a curve of gender against respect or vice-versa because there is none that makes for a dependent or independent variable. okay, so that was lame. but all i am saying( especially for those of you who do not get the math behind this analogy?) is that respect is not dependent on gender.

on escapes and safehouses

they say the only way to get over someone is to get under someone else.
that the only way to get over something is to get busy. distract yourself.
well, this is my distraction.
my escape.
my attempt to flee reality.
my source of happiness, temporary as it may be.
this is me clutching onto the last straws of what was my determination
a feeling i am beginning to forget
this is me tuning into that distance voice telling me to hang in there
when all i hear is shouts of defeat and pain
this is me hoping to be stronger than i feel
hoping that i can still hope
hope that maybe i am not as tired as i feel
that my feelings are exaggerated
that my pain is exaggerated
and that there are more painful things
more important things than pain
like death
like writing this piece.

The Friend Zone

The friend zone. this phrase rolls differently on my tongue. it tastes strange, unfamiliar, stranger. not because because i have no experience with its implication. actually i do not; at least not according to me. let me tell you why.

first, there is nothing more precious to me than friendship. i do not understand why people make it seem like a bad thing. just because somebody cannot be more than a platonic companion does not make you less of a person.it does not you to a lower rank in their chain of importance. because people do not rank the people they care about, i know i do not. and if the greatest measure of love is giving up your life for someone, you couldn’t possibly tell me that there are people you’d give half a life and others that you’d give the whole package. so no, people do not friend zone people. if someone ever refers to you as their friend and mean it, trust me it does not get better than that. because lets face it, if i cannot see myself in a relationship with you, it goes without saying you can never be my friend. so before you go and complain or cry your eyes out because whoever won’t see you as more than a friend, maybe you should ask yourself, are you even friends in the first place? because i know if i do not like a guy, i won’t even bother saving his number. so tell me, would this guy be right in claiming that i have friendzoned him? because as far as i can tell, i have just forgotten his existence. and friends do not do that to friends. and if i liked a guy who never liked me back, honestly he hasn’t friendzoned me. because as far as i know, my guy friends care about me. they listen to me when i rant about my useless problems, they open up to me with theirs, they make my life a little brighter, a whole lot brighter. and would this guy who did not like me do any of that stuff? i do not think so. so my point is, friendship is everything, it is not an in between between an erotic relationship and nothing. no people, it is not.

second, there is no limit to what you can and cannot do when you are someone’s friend. you know with the exception of having sex or being inappropriately intimate. but then again, that would depend on your moral standing. plus we all know principles is a personal concept. you decide what you will and will not stand for. if banging every person you set your sights on is okay with you, i won’t judge you. no seriously, i won’t. i realize i sound judgmental, so i am assuring you that i won’t judge you because there is just no way to write this without sounding judgmental. but i digress. what i am trying to say is, could we just stop stupidity; this annoying list of i cannot do this for my friend because that is something i would only do for someone i am having sex with. first, it is human to be kind and helpful. you should help someone whether or not you will get laid later. and if you are only going to help someone because you are going to undress them later, then how about you just don’t. second, sex is not a transaction, it is not a reward, it is not payment for a job well done. it is a show of affection between two consenting people? okay, so i am not an expert at this topic. people have sex for whatever reason. but the key word here is consent, otherwise its just rape. so you want to help your friend move, wash his dishes, pick up up his clothes from the dry cleaners? that does not make you a cheap, desperate whore. unless you are. because if this guy is your friend, he will return the favor. he will one day do your dishes, pick up your clothes from the dry-cleaners. notice, i did not say have sex with you?

so can we please stop this madness. can we please not make fun of that guy with a female best-friend, calling him a wimp, teasing him for not being able to seal the deal with her. because girls do not exist to be fucked. and friendships are not limited to gender. and would we not make the life of this female miserable? just because i am close with this one guy does not mean i hate women, does not mean i am not pretty enough to be his girlfriend. it simply means that in that one person, i have found someone i can trust, someone i can embarrass myself in front of. someone i can share a bed with for a whole freaking night and he wont touch me inappropriately. someone who loves me for me and not because he thinks he will one day get lucky with me. someone i can risk to entertain this illusion of forever with. that one person i do not ever have to worry about breaking up with. and if we ever drift apart, it would be because of different priorities, or distance, because life got in the way. and not because the sex sucked, or because my parents did not like him, or because we just did not feel the same way anymore. and that is hard to find on this shitty ass world.

so if you have that one person that this post reminded you of, don’t ever give up on them don’t ever let them go. and don’t ever let this two words “friend zone” define your relationship with them. and you why that is, that shit does not exist. because while girls and boys will come and go, friendships are forever. plus do you ever think, if men were to rate who is more important to them, top on that list would be the people that they are not sexually attracted to. like their mothers and sisters. and even if their wives made that list, it is because above everything else, their wives are their friends?

Obsessively Compulsively Apologetic

“i am so sorry”
i say for the umpteenth time
i want to stop apologizing
but i am scared
that you hate me now
for stepping on your toes
so i am sorry
please do not hate me
i want you to like me
i need them to love me
and i am sorry
that i feel so inadequate
that i need constant reassurance
“it’s no big deal. do not worry about it”
“it isn’t?”
because i said i am sorry
i am sorry that i do not feel like you are over it
i am sorry that i do not feel forgiven
i am sorry for not feeling worthy of your forgiveness
so i am sorry
for saying “sorry” so many times
but would you please forgive me
because i am sorry
for being me
and i am sorry
that i am not sorry
for being me

Growing up

Growing up. One of those things in life we can do on our own terms. With all its pressures and everyone chipping in with what’s right and what isn’t, eventually it all comes down to us deciding what we are going to become. And that is the problem with irrevocable choice; plenty of room to make mistakes. Or at least that’s how it was and still is for me. I had too much time to walk the wrong paths. Anyone would tell you that is the surest way to lose yourself.

You see, I am not the average girl; the normal kid next door. I am what people most people call weird. I liked to think of myself as a naturally misplaced being with not the slightest sense of what is okay by a per-meditated set of societal rules. Consequently, I cannot really say I have always belonged. I can actually count the number of times I felt at home anywhere. Here is the funny part, home is not in that list. The last two years of high school kind of did. So need I say that I have been misjudged and misunderstood, and somewhat mistreated? And for a very long time, I didn’t care; or maybe I just didn’t notice.

Inevitably, I grew up. And I guess it’s true what they say, the fourth basic human want is need for acceptance. I have always been a lover of solitude, I cherished my personal space and I am yet to think of anything that I guarded as jealously as my privacy. But all of a sudden, who I was did not satisfy me. Being alone ceased to be my version of quality time. And boy, I did something about it. I went out of my way and looked for company. And what I mean by company is the one or two friends I have. Who I did not look for by the way. It kind of just happened. So what I mean is while I would usually flee from any social scene, I bullied myself into waving to those old classmates across the street, into replying those Facebook messages, into giving people my number.

What I never realized was that I lost myself in the process. I changed too much about myself. I guess I really needed to feel accepted and even the slightest bit normal. So I spoke too much; I practically have an opinion about everything(which is funny because people think I am awfully quiet),I laughed too hard, I trusted too easily, I loved too much. And yeah, I got hurt a lot of times. But thank god, that was a phase. I am beginning to think I am almost done growing up; the radical way. And a huge part of that is realizing that there is so much you can live without. And one of those things is this need to belong, to feel accepted, part of a pack.
And while I would like to sit here and pretend that I am trying to preach the don’t-ever-change-yourself-for-anyone gospel. This is not it. This is me taking a walk down memory and realizing that if I had the chance to take it all back, I would not. Except the getting hurt part. I am like a vampire when it comes to emotions. I am so intense. I don’t just like, I love. I don’t just dislike, I loathe, to the point where the sound of your breathing is enough to get me so mad, I could strangle you, or stab you with a folk, and just sit there grinning as you die slowly at my feet. I do not forgive and forget, I only push it to the back of my mind and pretend we are cool as I count the number of times you have gotten on my nerves, and when I reach my breaking point, chances are I will stab you in your sleep. And yeah, I just don’t get hurt. I am broken. It feels so bad and I get depressed. Then it goes to this hollow emptiness and eventually I just go numb. And then I lose my motivation and I start questioning my existence and purpose. I go through my days feeling lost and betrayed and I cry myself to sleep every night. I am so messed up years after an incident and it sucks. And then I go to not caring, so much so, if I was the one in a position to save you, you are as good as dead. And then I am done (not entirely), but I become indifferent. I look at you and feel nothing. Nothing about you affects me. And while that sounds as a bad thing, it is a good thing for me because I am not fighting the urge to kill you. And on some days, I am glad you are alive. So all this detail was my way of explaining that amidst all this changes and between those days of hating the person I have become and the others when I am obsessed with myself, I have somewhat learnt to find a middle ground with my emotions. And that is huge. I think it is the best thing I have done with my life.

And these past few years have been really hard for me. And I do not think anyone is having as hard a time growing up as I am. But today, I am okay with that. And like anyone my age, I am just getting to figure it out, getting comfortable in my own skin. Learning not to take offence when someone calls me a woman. Learning to live life. Understanding that it is not that serious. And you know what the best part is, I am capturing every moment.

Is this a sequel? i do not know, you decide…

so my previous blog post was about finding yourself and about how back and forth a process this is. so back to the same friend i was having this “finding yourself” conversation with, would you imagine she had the audacity to tell me i am transitioning from “depressed” to “not depressed.” but i am just being dramatic, i will admit though, there is some truth to this. so i have been out of school and i have been doing a great deal of thinking.(and i realize i should be prepping for my exams, but who am i? Albert Einstein?) but i do not want to make this about me, i want this to be about everyone who can relate to hating your life. and i do not mean hating your life because you just cannot get the hang of that programming assignment, or because tomorrow is Monday and you are hung over as fuck. i want this this to be about that one person who knows what it feels like to want to have it together, but for some reason, this concept is as elusive as ever. this is about those moments when you doubt yourself so much, you cannot even trust yourself to open your eyes in the morning. this is for everyone who is struggling with something, trying to get over someone, deciding what you will do with your life; what path your career will take, grieving the loss of a loved one, stuck in a relationship that is not working. this is for everyone who is having a hard time at something( growing up more so). and i know that’s basically everyone.

first, i am not an optimist. i am more of a pessimistic realist. so trust me when i say this, a little positive attitude is refreshing. sometimes choosing to see the sunshine when its pouring down is the only way to get through those dark days. while it would be easier to lay in your bed and cry the oxygen out of your lungs, sometimes you have to grow up a little and sit up and smile and believe its going to be better. more importantly, you have to go out of your way and make things better. so save yourself some tears and have a little fun. write weird poems, draw ugly pictures, dance around, make dirty jokes, call up your friends and don’t complain. love your fucked up life, its all you got anyway.

second, life is not fair, but you get exactly what you need, or deserve. you know those days when you feel like the earth is rotating on any other axis but your own( man, i love this phrase), actually, it is on those days that the earth is rotating on your axis. i mean, if you have so much crap going on, its because the giver of crap is paying you too much attention. so man relish the attention. i honestly have no idea how that is done. but you’ll figure it out.

you are not your experiences. you are your choices. so you’ve been raped, does that make you a rapist? no. so you’ve been bullied, does that make you a bully? no.seriously though, why are my illustrations so gory? you are who you decide to be. as trite a this is, it is true. you can shape your reality or let your experiences shape it for you. and i say this because i know if i decided to react to all the crap I’ve been through, i would probably overthrow the devil. i would be the very definition of hell.and i know there are people who have been through worse. and so i am not the sweetest person you will ever meet, but hey, i am not Satan either. so my point is, treat people the way you wish they treated you. love someone the way you wish they’d love you. be the person you wish people were.

lastly, be your world. fact one, you are just one person. it doesn’t matter how many paradigm shifting breakthroughs you have, you will never be able to heal the world.fact two, we all wish the world was a better place. so how about you be your world and make your world a better place.

writer’s bonus:
this is so important. and because i sounded like a motivational speaker. and i know just how much people hate being told what they know. but this was for me and the few people who’ll appreciate it. anyway, here is a few graphics for the rest of you guys..

vulgar, but yeah..
vulgar, but yeah..


finding yourself..

just this morning, i was talking to my friend and she was telling me the way “finding yourself” is the most cliche activity known to mankind. and i was like,”you should though.” i know people who think that this is a rich-people thing. i honestly don’t know how i feel about that but this much i know, losing yourself is not a rich-people thing. take it from someone who doesn’t know who she is seventy- five percent of the time. and so i have been trying to rediscover myself and man, these things are hard. it is so back and forth. like one morning you know who you wanna be and what you will stand and most importantly not stand for, and then you go through the day disappointing the person you were in the morning. there are days i am so proud of myself and there are nights i cant even stand my presence. but that’s just my story, whats yours? anyway, so part of finding myself has been reigniting old passions. and so i thought i would do a poem; share a poem i wrote when i had no idea who i was. one of my dark-day poems. i am surprised its not as emotional as i thought it would be. so here it is..


Teary eyes staring into space
Minds racing into the past
To a time before our souls were polluted
When we heard the good sense to turn away
And stay out of trouble
When our hearts were as cute as our faces
When we knew who we were.

Burdening memories
Of a time we didn’t feel
When we didn’t fake smiles
Or force stubborn laughs
Hearts that didn’t love
Minds that remind us to hate
When hollow sounded right
And empty felt whole.

Before we traded our innocence for company
Voices that rung of defiant hope
Eyes that saw eternal light
Legs that knew the right paths to walk
Hands that were aware of who not to hold on to
And tongues that accurately represented our brains.

When the line between right and wrong hadn’t faded away
When pure dreams were our only fantasies
And sacrifice was for a better cause
Better than tearing down our souls
And ignoring the voices of reason
When our greatest sins currently rate as our saintly acts.