Elizabeth Awori's Blog

note iv

i tried to wait for you • i didn’t want to leave without seeing you • but something came up • they said it was urgent • that it couldn’t wait • i wish i hadn’t listened • i wish i waited •

i wanted to be there when you first opened your eyes • i wanted my smile to be the first light you saw • it wouldn’t be as bright as the sun • but it would be genuine • i even bought a polaroid • your mother showed me how to use it • we had it all planned out • we would do a shoot once you made a week •

it’s been three weeks now • your mother says you’re beautiful • i refuse to see pictures • i know it’s weird but i asked her not to send any • i want the first time i see you to be the first time i see you •

she says your brothers are watching over you • i’m proud of them • i’m also jealous of them • they’ve seen you • they’ve held you • and i only hear about you • i hear you cry out when i’m on the phone with your mother • i tell myself it’s a sign you know something is missing • i tell myself you miss my voice • that you miss me • even never having met me • i tell myself you know me • the same way i know you •

note iii

your smile

is like
the dirtiest page
of my favorite book,
the one I land on
without even meaning to,
the one that drifts
to the front of mind
in the middle of the night,
the one i have read a thousand times
but i still get surprised by,
the one i reread every day
because i’m sure its magic
is the kind that can never wear out.

note ii:

if you ever looked in my direction,
i would have come running.
if they said you’d be waiting
for me at the finish line,
i would have defeated the wind.

and even if,
God forbid,
i didn’t find you there,
i would send the wind
to find your scent,
then i would set up camp
and wait
for you.

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and if;
by sheer bad luck,
the wind came back empty-handed,
i would die,
sad, but hopeful
that my eyes would some day
behold your face.
that my hands would one day
touch yours.

strangers would find these shoes of mine.
these shoes would tell of
how i searched for you.
how i longed for you.
how i waited for you.
how i search for you.
how i long for you.
how i wait for you.

note i:

I woke up sooner than I wanted to
because you sneaked into my dreams.
I’ve been trying not to think of you
because every time I do,
the cracks in my heart
widen a little.

I talk to God about you.
I ask Him to lighten your load,
to watch over you;
I don’t know what I mean
but I think He understands.

In the dream, I heard your voice,
Your laughter filled my mind,
I could feel your presence;
I caught myself smiling.

I guess I should call you.
I don’t know if you’ll pick up.
You didn’t the last time.

There’s a lot for us to go over,
a lot I still don’t understand,
a lot I would like for you to explain,
but maybe today just isn’t the day.

I’ll just continue talking to God
about you.

Of being voiceless

P.S. I know I’m terrible at titles.

Monday 24th October, 2022.

12:00

I haven’t slept for two nights now. I lie awake scared if I sleep I may not wake. Tonsillitis in the night will mess with your mind like that. Tonsillitis is bad on its own; accompanied by the dark of night, it’s a lot scarier. Breathing is hard, swallowing is hard, talking is hard… Today I woke up with no voice. Well, the signs showed up last evening so I texted the Dean to let him know about my “situation.”

I spent the night imagining how class would go; I’d probably use sign language. The kids, confused, wouldn’t understand a thing. How was I to manage five different classes without a voice?

The first one was easy; their group presentations were due today. They were lucky I couldn’t chip in with my questions and comments. No one likes those.

The second one was a whole ninety minutes and the kids in this particular class tend to be naughty. I picked the naughtiest, whispered to him my predicament and asked him to announce to the class. He beamed with joy. I’d given him the power of breaking the news so that kept him calm throughout the lesson. A few of the kids laughed, others said sorry, others didn’t know how to respond. A representation of the everyday world. I said, through my correspondent, that I’d explain the notes when my voice returned. I wrote notes; then gave an assignment on what we’d covered previously.

I just came from the third lesson. I thought I’d hear my literature students’ real voices, I thought I’d let them give me a little insight into their inner selves. I took them to the library; we read two poems then, I asked them to write poems about themselves. Here are three that resonated with me. I’m tempted to try and analyze the poems and whatnot, but I’ll just leave them to you. Do let me know which one you relate to the most. Thank you.

i am a reflection of my shadow;

always scared,

always in the dark.

I.D

when i am all alone,

i feel like i don’t exist

i feel like i have no one

i feel pain.

when i am in love,

i feel happy

i feel like someone cares,

like i matter.

when i am angry,

i feel like throwing things

i lose control of myself

i feel like there’s a hole

in my heart

M.L.L

and now, i am all alone again;

nowhere to turn to,

without a friend

without a face to say hello to,

now that the night is near,

i can dream that she’s here,

but when the night dies,

i will exist as i am,

i am, that is enough.

K.N.J

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Stocktaking: Chapter 25

Dearest reader,

I know it’s been over eight months since we spoke; two hundred forty one days to be exact. Believe me, I tried to find my way back here but the waves of life kept pulling me further away.

I’m sort of back now so let’s try this again, shall we?

What I’ve been up to? Well,…

I’ve been:

Enjoying love. The one I love asked me to marry him. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t imagine he could pull off such a grand surprise; but when I saw him that night, knee on the ground, tiny blue box in hand, joy pulsed through my body. I couldn’t contain myself. My mind went blank.

Let’s start at the beginning. Sometime in May, Sharon, my best friend said she had a movie premiering in June and wanted me to be her plus one. I was excited for her but I was also honored that she’d thought of me so without thinking, I said yes.

When I told Henry about it, he wasn’t pleased. He asked if we were doing devotion just for the sake because we had had a discussion about being a team and making decisions together and yet I’d just agreed to something on my own and was now simply informing him. I apologized.

Over the weeks, he would randomly ask if I was still going to the movie premiere. He asked about the movie title, what hairdo I was thinking of; normal things.

On the day of the premiere, he accompanied me shopping and even waited while I did my hair. He tried to rush me, said he didn’t want me to be late. Sharon, Racheal and I set off minutes past eight. Racheal and I took one boda. He rode like a mad man. Luckily, we reached Acacia mall alive. In the elevator, I pushed the button when we got to the Century Cinema floor. I should have known something was off when Sharon said the movie wasn’t showing in the cinema; that they had rented space at a restaurant. At the Nawab entrance, Sharon said we had come for the movie premiere. The server smiled and ushered us in. Whatever happened after was an actual movie. A movie of laughter, joy, good food, and love; lots and lots of love.

This love journey has been beautiful and fulfilling in equal measure.

Reading, or at least trying to. My best read thus far has been Viola Davis’ Finding me. It’s a memoir. I’ve found I’m more drawn to real stories about real people than I am to fictitious tales. Which is not to say I hate fiction; I’m just more fascinated by real things.

“You need to have a really clear idea of how you’re going to make it out if you don’t want to be poor for the rest of your life. You have to decide what you want to be. Then you have to work really hard,” she whispered.

Finding me – Viola Davis

Wondering how at this my big age, I still eat the meat last; how I’ve failed to unlearn certain things like finishing the accompaniment before tea, choosing not to eat when I’m angry, trying to solve everything,…

Rediscovering my love for milk stick biscuits. I’m usually a salty-snack person but those stick biscuits have a hold on me. I’ve also been rediscovering the child in me; I giggle as I blow bubbles from the shower gel, I dance a little when I receive good news. Maybe we were never supposed to grow up. Maybe we should have stayed little care-free humans. I even tried riding a bicycle after years of not touching one.

Enjoying my natural hair. My 4c hair can be likened to a stubborn child. It is tedious having to constantly worry about it. It needs lots of grooming, but the journey is worth it. There have been more good days than bad ones so you could say I’m not complaining.

Teaching. My timetable isn’t looking how I’d want it to but it’s not the worst. Thursdays are the worst days though. I have a double lesson after lunch, then two remedial lessons in the evening. I’m tired in advance for next Thursday. But children are interesting people. There’s a new girl in my grade 8 class for example, who wrote a sentence about how sad she is that the girls only compliment her about her body shape and not her personality. I was tempted to mark the sentence right and just move on since it was correctly written in present simple tense but being the nosy person that I am, I told her not to mind them, that there was nothing wrong with girls complimenting her body and that they’d like her once they got to know her. Smiling, she said she’d wait and see, so I guess we’ll wait and see.

Taking pictures. Being busy with teaching, I sometimes forget I’m a photographer. Still, I occasionally pick up my camera and go shooting. The last time I decided to be a photographer, my brother and I went to Tororo Railway Quarters, passed by the school we attended in primary, then caught sunsets. It was surreal.

Learning how to watch football; how it works. Learning how to be a better partner, how to go to God about everything, because He cares. Learning that El Roi, the God who sees me, will always find a way to come through for me. Learning to depend on Him for all things.

Watching Money Heist after swearing I would never. We’ve also watched Anatomy of a Scandal, Look Both Ways, Blacklist, Inventing Anna, and AfterLife. Of course I don’t remember all the shows/movies we’ve watched but if you ask me, you’ll find out.

Winning. Sometime in January, I tried getting into the university of Groningen. It wasn’t because their hoodies are labelled UG so as a Ugandan I would have been hitting two birds with one stone. No, that wasn’t the main reason why I applied. I wanted to see if I could get into their Psychology program. I did everything; prayed, created an account on StudieLink, sent my documents, and wrote a letter of motivation explaining why I was interested in Psychology. Then came the most exciting part; the pre-entry exam which was to be done in March. There’s a thrill that comes with being tested. At least for me.

Anyway, there were documents to be read and videos to be watched, all freely available. I’d read in between lessons, after school, during weekends, in the middle of sleepless nights, whenever I could; the point is I read. I even downloaded the Minimalist app so it could stop me each time I reached for my phone when I should have been reading. It was all fascinating: outgroup homogeneity effect, social facilitation, deindividuation, group polarization, bystander intervention effect, positive reappraisal, hardiness, etc. Social Psychology interested me more than Health Psychology but Research Methodology in Psychology gave me headache. I would literally get headache just from reading. Statistics was a whole other nightmare. I got through it though.

The test was available from Saturday to Monday. By Saturday, I didn’t feel ready so I opted for 2pm on Sunday. Henry made sure lunch was ready by noon so I could eat and go do final preps. The exam was in three parts with 15-minute breaks in-between. When I finished, I knew I hadn’t failed. But I’ve had that feeling before and the results have disagreed with it so I waited for the selection email. The BSc Psychology only had places for 600 students. I ranked 264th. They later sent an email with estimated results and my rank number meant my overall score was 92.31%. I was proud of myself. I still am proud of me. By not confirming my place, I forfeited it. I had got in, that’s all that mattered to me.

Thanking God for the breath in my lungs and the amazing love He surrounds me with; the genuine care of my man, my family and friends. I’m truly loved and I know it didn’t happen by mistake. It’s all Yahweh. Every thing I think I’ve accomplished, it’s been because of His might and power.

I turn 26 on Saturday 3rd. I just know it’s going to be a better year because He promised the glory of my latter days would (and surely will) be greater than the glory of the former ones, and He will grant me peace.


For my next act, I’ll be spending more time at my Father’s feet. I’ll be more intentional about loving the people God has gifted me. I’ll celebrate myself more. I’ll unlearn certain things and pick up better ones.

Stocktaking : 2021

From a distance, 2021 looked like a sequel to 2020. People made jokes about going to the bush after the election yet deep down prayed for peace. The truth is, this year has been a lot; from the election to the second wave of Covid-19, to the endless lockdown to the elusive COVID relief… I’m just grateful we’re alive to reminisce about it. Let’s catch up on the highs and lows, shall we?

The year started well.

My blog got nominated in the 2020 Afrobloggers Awards in the Personal blog category and I was first runner up. As my first win of the year, it was the light I needed going into the tunnel.

The badge of honor.

I traveled to Kichwamba.

I’d never even heard of the place but when a friend invited me for Easter, I packed my bag and best friend and went. The journey was long but offered beautiful cites to see. The best part was definitely the drive through Queen Elizabeth National Park. I felt at home, probably because the park was named after me. We saw elephants, buffaloes and kobs on the drive. We were disappointed by how tiny and creaky the bridge over the Kazinga channel was, but the beauty of Lakes George and Edward made up for that. When we finally got to Sayari Lodge, the view was to die for. Below us was a valley that could actually kill you if you fell into it. It was breathtaking. While there, we learnt how to play pool, and throw darts. Every night, we would sit by the fire, drink and discuss racism, feminism, sexism, colorism and all other -isms.

Kichwamba looked good on me.

I took pictures.

There’s something magical about freezing moments and carrying them around forever. That’s what I think photography is. My favorite picture this year is one I took of the Tororo Cement factory. I’ve been told it looks like Winterfell from Game of Thrones. That’s a compliment I can’t argue with.

Tororo Cement Factory, Uganda’s oldest cement factory.

I was crashed.

For the third year in a row, a thief visited our kraal. Two bulls were taken this time. When the police sniffer dog came, it traced scents and in the end stopped at our neighbor’s; it entered through the back door, walked through the house and stopped at the front. He’s the same guy who stole our pregnant cow last year. He was taken by police then released on police bond two days later. Last year I was angry. This year I am livid.

When I heard the news, I went numb. I curled up in my bed and sobbed. I wondered why God would let this happen to us, a third time. Was this what he meant when he said his plans were to prosper and not to harm us? How much did the locust have to eat before He began the restoration? When I called mum, I could barely hear her voice. She was blaming herself, saying she shouldn’t have slept so early. Dad said we didn’t have to worry. That Nyasaye knew what to do. That’s when it dawned on me that God is still God and He knows all things. We wouldn’t even have cattle if He didn’t make them. I remembered that the devil is the one who comes to steal, kill and destroy but my God, my God is good, His loving kindness endures forever.

The LORD is good, A stronghold in the day of trouble, And He knows those who take refuge in Him.

Nahum 1:7

He knows us who ask for justice from Him. He knows us who cry out to Him. He knows us and He listens to us, so someday in His perfect time, He will answer us.

I received a book

from an internet friend in Kenya. Books are the surest way to my heart, books and Kenyan mabuyu. And my friend Otieno sent me both. Those were the best gifts I received this year.

The gift, Thursdays by Biko Zulu.

I published an ebook.

I started working on it last year and I had meant to publish it before my birthday but certain things came up so I couldn’t meet my deadline. The book, entitled These things, is a collection of poems written for anyone who knows the joy of love and the soreness of loss, anyone who knows what it’s like to dread home, and for everyone on the journey of healing from things we don’t talk about. It’s my biggest achievement of the year and I hope you’ll relate to any/some of the things I write about. You can get a copy of the book on Amazon or Kobo. Nice reading.

The book cover, designed by the talented Bob Archist

I finally discovered my favorite color.

All my life, I’ve loved black and grey but I recently realized how beautiful the color peach is. It’s somewhat cute, it’s loud but not too loud; much like myself. I can’t believe it took me this long to find it but that’s also what makes it so dear to me.

I bought my first piece of land.

I’m still letting it sink in but yes, I did it. I’m a whole land owner!

I moved to Gitega.

Gitega is the cultural capital of Burundi. It is where the King lived before the kingdom became a republic. In the midst of closure of schools in Uganda, I applied for and got a teaching job in Burundi. I didn’t think I’d get it because I freestyled in the interview. What happened was, I had over prepared, then the interview got postponed. I didn’t prepare when the new date was communicated because I’d lost morale. I told God he would have to carry me and he did.

The journey to Burundi would have been smoother if the Uganda-Rwanda border had been open. Instead, I had to go through Tanzania. Travel amidst the pandemic isn’t something I’d wish on anyone. The whole COVID test thing is tedious and no one tells you how much Swahili you’re going to need until you’re at a restaurant in Mutukula trying to remember what mchuzi means.

Somewhere in Kyaka, Kagera, Tanzania waiting for the bus to Ngara to arrive.

The longest part of the journey is from Karagwe to Ngara through a game park. It’s a murram road so the dust is unseeable-through. When I got to Ngara, I’d missed the Kabanga bus so a charming boda guy tried to con me. He said he could take me to Kabanga at 20,000 Tz Shs. I knew it was a scam so I refused but he had already put my bag on his tank. I told him to just find me a probox and fortunately, he agreed to.

At a fuel station, we found one. The driver opened the boot to put my bag in and there were four guys seated inside. The back seat had five people. The front had two chubby women. The only space left was for the driver. He told me to take it. I asked where he would sit and he said to just trust him. I laughed and sat behind the steering wheel. Somehow, he found a way to sit beside me.

That’s something I learnt about public vehicles in Tanzania, there’s always room for someone else. You may not see it but the driver sees it. That, and there’s no COVID so there’s no point social distancing. In the taxi from Mutukula to Kyaka, I was actually asked to take off my mask because “hakuna corona hapa.”

At Kobero, the Tanzania-Burundi border, I experienced for the first time what history calls “language barrier.” I had forgotten to exchange my Ugx to US dollars and yet that’s the only currency accepted for the rapid COVID test. No one would take my Ugandan shillings because they’re “worthless.” The guy receiving the test money said he only spoke French and English yet I couldn’t make out anything he said in English. The guys exchanging money spoke fluent Kirundi and a variant of Swahili I’d never heard before. Yes I said variant, not dialect, because I wouldn’t be trying to get US dollars at an African land border if it weren’t for COVID.

While I was stranded, two guys came to test. Unlike me, they had their dollars. Sensing the chaos, one guy offered to help. He wore a yellow Lakers’ vest, blue jeans and brown sandals. He spoke broken English coated in a French accent. I realized I liked it immediately. He took my suddenly-useless Makerere University-English and transformed it into Kirundi for the exchangers and French for the test guy. He bargained for me like we were related. We got the dollars for all the Ugx I had, plus whatever Tz shillings I was left with.

Inside, Olivier, my Congolese hero “tipped” the doctors so that he wouldn’t be tested. His friend and I got tested. When results came back, all three of us were negative. Olivier asked where I was going, I told him Gitega. He said they were going to Ngozi so we could go together. After clearing, he “tipped” the security guard so our things couldn’t be checked. He said he doesn’t like being inconvenienced. I smiled because I knew exactly what he meant. My entire journey had been a big case of inconvenience.

I experienced Burundi.

As soon as you enter the country you’ll notice the roads are scary. It’s like being in a game of Snake. There’s a bend every two minutes. What makes it even scarier is how small the roads are. Additionally, because I’m Ugandan, it feels like the driver is always on the wrong side of the road. At every bend, it feels like we’re going to ram into the coming car. However, if you stop looking at the road and take in the views, they’ll take your breath away.

The one thing I found most beautiful about the culture is how when someone is handing you something with their right hand they use their left to touch their right elbow as a sign of respect. It humbles me every time.

Life in Burundi has been delightful; the people are generally nice. There’s no sudden load shedding. If power is going to be off, you’ll receive a notification the day before so you can charge your gadgets. I’ve seen both men and women at construction sites; doing the same work. – That was a shocker. Internet bundles, like most things, are cheap. On Econet, I get 1.5 gigabytes at only 1000 Burundian Francs and it’s actually 1,500 megabytes, unlike whatever theft Ugandan telecom companies have majored in.

One thing I didn’t quite understand is how Instagram music is available in my country when I’m in Bujumbura but as soon as I get to Gitega it’s not available, yet it’s the same country.

Speaking of music, I tried out nightlife in Gitega. I had to; I wanted to get the full experience. Besides, the semester was done and I needed to unwind. There was no entrance fee at the club we went to. In true Burundian style, all age groups were represented – teenagers, young adults and old adults. Burundians don’t go to club to sit and watch people dance (like I do.) They go to dance. The dance floor is like one big TikTok video; with mad energy and seamless choreography. I couldn’t stop watching.

I learnt French.

I didn’t exactly learn the entire language, just a few words and phrases like c’est terminé which means it’s over. I know basic greetings as well. What I must now learn is numbers because even though Burundians speak Kirundi, when it comes to money, they count in French.

I visited the Gitega national museum.

You learn a lot about a country from their museums. For instance, did you know Burundi is referred to as the Heart of Africa because the country is shaped like the human heart? Also, turns out Burundi believes she has the source of the Nile. I didn’t know that. I also didn’t know they have a pyramid not far from the source of the Nile.

The Gitega national museum.

I learnt some pretty fascinating stuff about the kingdom of Urundi.

1. Back then, girls only wore skirts made from tree barks. Their breasts were left bare so that they could be observed for signs of pregnancy. It was only upon conceiving that a girl could wear upper clothing. A pregnant woman wore a motherhood crown throughout the nursing period. Interestingly, a woman who bore 7 or more children received a crown made of papyrus strips or sorghum stalks as a symbol of honor.

2. As soon as a boy grew pubic hair, he was given a spear. It was a sort of rite of passage into manhood.

3. The king’s (mwami’s) bed had to be high enough for his cheerleader to fit under. The cheerleader’s job was to cheer the leader while he made love to his wife. The cheerleader was sworn to secrecy; if he told anyone of the king’s expertise or lack thereof, he was killed.

I visited Bujumbura.

Bujumbura is two hours away from Gitega. It’s hot compared to Gitega. The city doesn’t let boda bodas into the Central Business District which makes it a lot more organized than Kampala. I took a tuk-tuk (an auto rickshaw) for the very first time. Since there’s no ice cream parlor in Gitega, I looked for one as soon as I got to the city.

My long lost lover; ice cream.

I visited Bora Bora beach so I could see Lake Tanganyika. The waves were loud and rough, but pleasing to watch.

Lake Tanganyika.

I ate pringles.

Pringles became my solace on Tuesdays because they were my busiest days – I had 6 lessons. I’d get home tired and Pringles felt like the perfect reward for my hard work. I tasted every available flavor from Sour Cream & Onion to Barbecue to Salt & Vinegar to Hot & Spicy to Cheesy Cheese and obviously the Original flavor.

I watched.

That’s probably why I barely read books all year long. I was busy watching Christmas movies, and a few normal movies. My best were Coming 2 America, Malcolm & Marie, King Richard, Locked down, Resort to Love, and Love Hard.

I also did some catching up on Prodigal Son season 2, Good Girls season 4, The Neighborhood season 4, Bob hearts Abishola season 3 and most recently, Emily in Paris season 2. Of course I’m #TeamAlfie. There’s just something about him. Maybe it’s that he doesn’t bring drama to Emily’s life, he is the drama.

I climbed the Tororo rock a second time.

The first time was on 31st December, 2020. Today I meant to just live in the moment but when I got there, one of the photographers wasn’t feeling well so he couldn’t hike. I had to step in for him. Today’s hike was hectic because we set off at 11:30am when the sun had warmed up. Last year we started climbing at 5pm, the evening was cool so we didn’t sweat too much. The hiking experience is always fun because I get to meet new people and stretch a little. Today, I even beat people at Ludo and witnessed and photographed a surprise marriage proposal at the top of the rock. It was beautiful.

The view of the golf course from halfway the rock.

I was faithfully single all year long.

No crushes, no hiccups, no nothing. Just sheer bliss. Actually, if we are being honest, I did have a crush on some guy but I heard he screamed like a baby during a nasal swap PCR test and the crush on him crashed immediately. Otherwise it’s been a plain year with no romantic heartbreak of any kind. I think I’m finally ready to go back into the wilderness.

This was the 2021 mantra.

God really carried me through this year. I don’t even want to imagine how tough it would have been without Him. Glory to Him.

Anyway, how has your year been?

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“These Things” _Book Review

A delightful review of my poetry collection: These Things.

sharoncuban

Are you seated?

No!!

Okay..Grab a seat. Let me tell you about “These Things”.

Book cover
Written by Ugandan author; Elizabeth Awori.

“These things” is a collection of poems and prose by Elizabeth Awori. The author uses the two genres to deliver a great deal of impassioned poetry and coherent prose thematically connected and deeply rooted in personal experience, and general societal themes.

Written in mainly two narrative forms; first person and second person, the book conveys hyper imaginative thoughts, feelings and ideas. The author uses a simple but heartwarming diction combined with exquisitely designed figurative language to tackle complex themes and Ideas such as; love, loss, pain, rejection, sexuality and boundaries, faith, growth, equality, acceptance, among others.

Elizabeth uses snappy description to construct a wave of imagination to provoke a great deal of emotions and feelings of love, nostalgia, melancholy, disappointment, peace and betrayal in the reader’s mind. Her…

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These things, a poetry collection by Elizabeth Awori.

A beautiful review of my poetry collection.

Henry's Blog

In her debut collection of poems, Lisa talks pain, love, heartbreak and home. Her poems about love and pain are so relatable; so much that she sucks you in and drags you along; you become one with the persona. In the first section of the book, she writes about love in glowing terms with the flowery images of the sun, the water that doesn’t drown but quenches. It’s all bliss and beautiful. She praises her lover and revels in love.

The second section, though, strikes a sharp contrast. What was rosy and beautiful turns bitter. The quenching water now drowns, she becomes a rugged, a baggage-carrying girl, a deserted house, one who dreads home. She relays the pain in this section so vividly that it moves you. The persona stands right in front of you, and her pain beckons your own pain.

Let’s talk about the themes. Simply put, these…

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This thing!

“The last time anyone made me feel this way, I ended up in ashes.”

This thing is familiar. I know it all too well. First it feels necessary, essential, like a cup of tea after a heavy downpour. A tiny antidote for a thick poison. That’s how it feels; like an antidote. An antidote to my loneliness. And I know my loneliness – my loneliness is the quiet kid in class, the one who doesn’t act up for attention. The one who doesn’t speak unless spoken to. And if she’s not spoken to, she forgets how to speak. My loneliness is like that, if I ignore her long enough, she pretends to disappear.

But no matter how hard I try to ignore this thing, it doesn’t fade. It’s mightier than my loneliness. It feels useful. It feels like the sun’s rays at 8:30 in the morning; nicely warm on the skin. It smells like the soil after a drizzle – something indescribable. It swears it’s a friend so I invite it in. It comes bearing presents – cuddles, compliments and candy. Things foreign to me, things my loneliness could never afford.

In the end, it all vanishes. I always wake up to find this thing gone. It doesn’t even let me plead with it to stay. It’s probably scared I’ll be too convincing. It probably knows how much I need it.

See;

Love has always been a bad guest in my house. It passes by unannounced and leaves whenever it feels like it. Its mannerisms have taught me to ignore the door when it knocks these days. I always just turn up the volume of my radio.

But my cells are used up. I can hear love call my name. What do I do now?