THE MAN IN MY MIRROR

 

She poured herself. The way a dense liquid would even if you haven’t tiled the glass. It was too real that I was slightly uncomfortable. I did not know the right words to say or how to structure my facial expressions without coming off as judgmental. Her eyes were louder than her fear; I could see she was hesitant to reveal every bit of emotion that rampage her soul. And all I wanted to do was to tell her that I wasn’t there to hurt her and that I’ll take everything to the grave but, I did not want to do this with words. I wanted to lay my hand on her lap and hold her hand; press up my bosom so she feels wanted, loved and most importantly safe.

I could foresee the ‘ugly cry’ that we all get at some point in our lives. The one synonymous to when going through a major breakup or loss of a loved one, the one a thief lives through upon hearing the final sentence; the good cry. It hurts so deep that you could feel the physical pain on the surface. Sometimes you hit your chest or hold on to it to prevent t from bleeding or somehow redirect the trauma back to the lumbar region.  She broke down. She threw herself to the ground and rolled over and over again; I drowned in her trauma. I became the target at some point when I tried to hold her and she would fight me off like I only added on to her pain.

Broken, Scathed and Dead

I knelt beside her, looking over her as a mother would her child when ailing. So helpless, stuck in some wishful thinking of how I could take over the turmoil and give her a break. She would look at me occasionally as if she thought I would leave; leave like the rest. In between her broken breaths and watery eyes she would utter the same words over and over again and would wipe of her snort with the handkerchief I gave her.  My eyebrows were now one long uni-brow high enough to meet my hairline like long lost brothers. My eyes were slightly squinted in a bid to prevent a tear from escaping and empathizing her so deep inside my sockets, I wish I could unplug.

She went on for hours, she never got tired and she never looked forward. I knew she didn’t want me there as a shrink, she did not want comfort or sympathy and neither was she seeking a ‘you deserve better’ speech. I felt her heart beat stop mid thoughts and her skin turn pale at the whim of his remembrance. The last time I saw a woman break down almost in the same way was eons back. I knew what she wanted, I knew her thoughts, I knew her demise and I knew it wasn’t for me to be the hero. She wanted a friend. Don’t save her.

I sat as if I was mother goose and her golden egg was ready to be hatched and laid her head on my laps. I reached for the comb on the dresser and brushed her hair as she poured herself over and over again. She never told me what it was that had happened but in some weird feminine way my chakra was vibrating high. Have you ever known exactly what someone is about to say before they say it? Or predicted something before it happened? Or even felt a strange energy towards someone only for them to turn out to be fraudulent in their ways?

It was as though her eyes spoke of the malevolence that drowned her, her body movement was so vivid I still remember to date. I knew what he had done. This time, it broke her. She was fighting battles that nobody knew of, the kind of battles no one but yourself can save you. Battles like the ones instigated by an abusive parent(physical and emotional), battles of being abandoned by your primary caregiver, battles of being molested or violated. I wanted to help but I knew no matter what I did, nothing would make her feel better.

I did what I could do; offered her shots of gin which was long overdue. I did this to silence her mind, to ease her frustration, to make her see it as a ‘lit’ moment and not to beat herself up so much that she kills the human I grew to know and love. Soon enough she passed out on the carpet and I fluffed a pillow and I placed it under her head.  I covered her with her favorite duvet and watched her cozy in it obliviously. For the first time I saw the other side.

She lived in fear that her boyfriend had another woman; women always know. They had been together for so long that he was deep in the family zone I often called him ‘son’. Their relationship survived so many tumultuous situations that I believed it was real love. If, there is such a thing anyway.

I knew what she meant to him and what he meant to her; it was deep. Family deep, the kind of deep that his brothers kept asking for her and so did her sisters inquire about him. I never suspected of him cheating but then again I never really cared (vitu za watu wawili). I wanted to convince her that he really love(d) her and that she should not doubt him but I couldn’t do it. I picked a side.

I have loved before and despite the deception, the plot twists and the fragmented truths, I believe that it was real. Cheating destroys people, it changes the dynamics, it completely traverses someone’s heart and it leaves one bare and soulless. But despite my cheating ways, I knew exactly where my heart belonged only that I was selfish and addicted to the games. If I knew the implications of my actions then, I would probably not have gone out of my way to pursue cheap thrills. I seethat

Pale kesses

I lay on my bed half asleep looking over this beautiful mess on the floor wondering if she is going to survive for the next few days. How broken was she and how could I fix it for her temporarily until we get through exams. I wanted her to take her power back, to be happy without him, to forget him and trash him. He was callous and for a split second I saw myself in him. I turned to face the other side as I tried to fit inside the masai shuka, July was cold. Probably as cold as me even though my fire ravaged inside my chest, I still felt my heart break into tiny fragments. I could feel her soul hover around her trying to give in and surrender to the darkness. I bled for her as she bled for herself.  

My fear? Karma is coming for me and the compromising photos some of my exs have hahah……..actually keeps me up at night, well not really. My audience keeps me up at night. The main take away from this; don’t get into a relationship unless you have the discipline for it.

A loud knock at 2am startled me, I had really strange neighbors, I flipped my pillow to the other side to match the coldness in the air and heart; coherency must be achieved.

“Diaz nifungulie! Diaz please, najua Shiku yuko hapo”…………..

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