Over the years, I have stretched some loosely hanging dimensions way too far and overwhelmed myself with a feeling of impossibility. A feeling that doesn’t escape me for one second. Sometimes when I’m not busy I try to check on it.
The ego. The heart. The soul.
Whether it hurts and for quite an iniquitous moment of time, I hold on to my chest and feel if it’s there.
The pain hasn’t gone away. It has eaten into the cribs of my emotions and dragged with it my hopes and possibilities. Pushed me into a corner.
A corner I hardly can push back because what lies in the dark is scary and cold.
Cold in every dimension.
A few minutes before hitting to class. She hits back. Your brain tunes back to life and your heart jingles. You are moved and in all honestly – you think your love story is punctuating it’s flow. You hang both hands around your face, sliding an old school Infinix across your nose. A mumble forms on your lips and your heaving breaths life into your longing. The long ubiquitous mumble forms into a prayer. The prayer you whisper to your God brings with it tears you can’t hold back.
While you rush to press the read button. Sorry. You stop there. The earth trembles, your eyes close and the truth smacks your face.
For days you waited for her damn reply. Patiently and – slowly glorifying that ‘kafeeling’ that perhaps this chick you are so crazy about is busy doing something constructive. And that tiny optimistic voice at the back of your mind cries out that you are being an ugly impatient jerk. Is it just you or everyone is endowed with the art of waiting. That feeling convinces you that the voices you hear are only doubts. You have got esteem, right? Then why the doubts. It’s worth. You tell yourself.
The hurt, the pain and the doubts. For they are all a means to a happy end. In fact, that’s what it takes to not die a painfully lonely life. The sacrifices, right? Its fucking you up and you feel it inside your soul in trembles. Your blood rushes. Your heart beats.
Whenever you text her a slew of conversations. She falls back into a corner. Your minds rushes again. You wait that the tick will turn blue long before you lose your patient. But it’s a lie. You’ve never lost your cool.
It’s been this way for 6 months.
How in the world would you lose your patience today? Maybe she will change and the magic will spark once more. After days of waiting. The tick turns blue and she comforts you with a twist of niceties. Monster-ed toxicity lotioned in nice love till you forget;
Forget what you’ve been through while you waited for her response.
The lover will say was busy and you will find your validation. This message will kiss your emptiness and your skin will melt away into comfort. But deep down you realize she will go again. She will disappear into her slumber and you will remain to dance the jingle. The jingle of despair and unrequited love.
The jingle of her toxicity.
Toxicity that makes you feel unwanted.
The mother of all paranoia.