‘She is panting and raving in anger. Her heart drenched in betrayal and deceit, she never knew she could hurt this deep let alone hurt at all. She had let him in too soon, it was partially her fault. A deep sense of numbness settled at the pit of her stomach, her heart cringed for a moment. His dark brown eyes gazed into hers and seemed to burn into her memory forever’.
I love soap operas. They echo a certain feeling that one may not experience in a lifetime yet again connect to those who have felt it once more. Its 2:30 in the morning. It’s strangely peaceful compared to other days, a certain aura of mystery and desertedness hovers around. As mundane, my room is the only one that has lights turned on and people talking in low key could be heard. It was indeed pin drop outside. I go through my drawers before Ferdinando expresses his undying love to Maria Cruz and denounces Isabella.
In search of my junk food. Nothing completes a movie night like Pringles and grape juice. My name is Daisy Waitherero and I am an addict. I love crisps more than my family and believe me, I am obsessed with my family. The same way kryptonite is to Clark Kent or MJ is to Spiderman and I lack more examples but you get the point. Crisps are my kryptonite. Pleasantly firm, easily broken, embarrassing to eat and an after taste that would leave you single. They are the love of my life.
Like all soap operas, they pretty much end the same way. In addition to taking annoying long breaks in between each episode. It eventually ends with Ferdinando dead and both women crying on his chest. The catastrophes of love and soap operas. In Kenya, those two women would be fighting each other for his wealth not wasting time on his chest. He is not Lazarus, his best friend won’t raise him from the dead no matter how long they cried (a Kenyan woman’s chain of thought). Just ask what happened to Kirima. Love runs the world but money is the CEO.