Dear diary...

 Dear diary....

It has been weeks since we last spoke. Iam truly sorry for being cold and distant but hear me out. It's not that I had nothing to say to you. Nay, if anything, I had too much to say I hadn't the foggiest where to begin. Like a labyrinth of mirrors, I got lost in the limbo between sane and the insane. On every mirror, I could see my sanity crumble to pieces in pure clarity right before my eyes over and over again. I yelled out for help but the cacophony of voices drowned it all and ruthlessly had their way. With oblivion uncomfortably close, to you I return in despair.

Iam eternally grateful for those cold, lonely nights that only we know about. Those long, unending nights that I ironically wished wouldn't end just so I wouldn't have to pretend to have it together oh so proudly the next day. I've had those too in the recent past but only I know about them. Perhaps telling you about them now matters not but you're the only one I trust. The only one who's been there even when I know not how I feel. I only hope you still know me well enough to know what thread to pull at to make it all okay again. 

Still love,

_storyteller.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Mortality Paradox

I recently came across a tweet that said the saddest part about life is: ‘all this, just to die’ and as absurdly morbid as it sounds, you can take that to the bank. Its face value is exactly that: whatever life you lead, however lavish, however desolate, the endgame is one.  It indeed is profoundly sad to think you could land the job of your dreams, scholarship of your dreams and not even wake up tomorrow. All you worked for, all you prayed and hoped for finally fulfilled and life or death I should say, excuse the pun, just takes it all away before it's even yours.  It really is truly tragic and insurmountably terrifying how cruel life can be in that regard which indeed does beg the question, all this for what? Oh how I wish I had the answer to that but I haven't got a clue and if I had a sit-down with our maker before my time, that'd be my first question.  Steve Jobs said something about living everyday like it's your last because one day you'll be right and my wor...
Read more

The Sometimes Futile Pursuit of Happiness

It is utterly impossible to disregard aforementioned title I know, and as depressing as it sounds, said pursuit sometimes proves me right plenty.  Overlooking the morbidity, I do drive a solid point or two I believe. To begin with, what really is happiness? Well, happiness is entirely case dependent, at least in my opinion. Here's what I mean, for some happiness is spouse, kids and lots of grandkids, for others happiness means something in the lines of top 30 under 30, CEO of a Fortune 500, something in those lines.  Only things that's standard is the the journey towards what happiness means to you. Having that one girl you want who's right there but just can't get her and having that big promotion just out of reach does hurt all the same. It's like dangling a steaming tomahawk steak in the face of a  former grill chef turned vegetarian. It all begs the question what to do to be happy? Well, I suppose this question is better posed at Yoda or a magic 8 ball.  Everyth...
Read more

Home time

It's close of business again, well, a little past close of business and I'm on my way home. Fresh out of a 12-hour shift, I can't decide if I'll eat first when I get home or just collapse into slumber right at the door. In the matatu, I could swear everyone is deliberating the very same decision Iam. Soft music plays on classic FM as if trying to remedy our tired bodies and mind. Just about everyone is on their phones. If I listen intently enough, I can almost hear the pitter patter of their thumbs going at it with the keyboard. In essence, everyone is in their own little world, only brought back to this realm by the conductor demanding his due. He passes around a tiny piece of paper with his mpesa number on it and we, who are cashless, calmly wait for our turn. After confirming the mpesa receiver's name, everyone runs back to their screens but not without throwing a pitiful glance at the long, long chain of cars also called Thika road. Iam not a mind reader but I ...
Read more