Make a wish when you see a star, break the glass when you see a scar for it is easy to leave, hard to love a certain part of your body.
If I die, let it be known that I was always myself, never loved a man or had my heartbroken. I am not capable of loving a man, a mere man for that matter, men are too easy to understand, just make efforts and fuck them.
Every-time, I step up my sex game, it’s more like a race that everyone is running and only the best can make the most out of it, for great decisions that control the world are not made in big fancy conference rooms but in the bedroom.
I thought it will be easy, days when I had a low cut and worried less about boys and bras or phones and toys. I wasn’t worried about food or clothes cos I knew it will be there. It was easier growing on the streets where you were the one that no boy was looking at, I hated sex I often said, of a truth, nobody wanted me in that way, I wasn’t like the shy clean girls who were bunches of sweetness, I was the girl who didn’t care about what I wore or how I looked, I thought it was easier that way, when the attention didn’t span my direction, it was easier to solve the difficult physics and chemistry equations, for that was the only way I could get the attention I needed, the sweet girls came to me to help them of course with difficult equations, that was where I got the only validation that I really wanted, not in this way type of want, it was the only option, crazy!
It was easier to get away without doing the house chores, I was the brilliant one, coming first didn’t need me to stress myself, I always topped my class, people knew I was the smart one, the one with the big school bag and cut sandals, who didn’t wear makeup or plaited her hair. It was easier to play with the boys and they did want to playback, some of the guys called me their hommie, I didn’t want to be a hommie, I wanted to be like the other girls they made efforts to get, the ones they want to hang around with after school, I wanted to be the girl who everyone associated with simply because I was beautiful and clean, I hated girls who were beautiful and clean, their parents were rich and gave them what they wanted, in my case, I have to come home and hawk, or feed the chickens we were going to sell few days to Christmas or even go to the farm, fetch firewood, break them and make cornflour with okra in the evening.
I started using curse words, maybe the boys will notice, a few did, but not the ones I wanted, I started to tap guys butt, rub their heads and poke them, I began to show obvious crush and they still didn’t want me, I was angry and sad, but this life was easier than being a pretty clean girl with rich parents who didn’t have sense, I called them dunces.
It is crazy now, I found sex from too many wrong attempts, too many fights with myself, too many times when I thought I wasn’t good enough, when I wanted to make money from it, from killing a creature I was part of its creation, now people want to fuck me, I make it easy to fuck me, I wanted boys to want me too, its hard to fuck the shy girls cos’ you have to take them to dinner dates and clubs, picnics and studs, I wasn’t up for that, I wanted to be easy, easy for the boys to see me, to be finally wanted in a way that wasn’t academics related, a different kind of connection, I wanted to be that type of easy, so I fucked on the couch, kitchens and tables, cars and floors, hotels and cribs, apartments and stalls, outside the open air, too many attempts to be accepted, to be loved; so my victims were high, every time, I got it wrong. It was exhausting to be looking for this type of validation; then I started to look but for other easier ways to validation.
I dusted my cigarette with a pen and thought about days that it was just playing with my friends or talking with my mother innocently from the eyes of a six year old, tickling my sister and running to hide, sharing the only meat left in the pot with my sister and cousin before we hurriedly leave for school, rushing to our neighbors house on Thursday at eight to catch up with super story, or even driving our tires with a stick through the streets on an errand for mum, it was easier…
Now I’m between walls of darkness, moods I can’t define, things I can’t unsee, memories I wish I had created, love I wish I had shared, moments that I hope never happens, looking at my mom, I realize her love for me is genuine and that if she had other options, she would do better, for she honestly fed my cat without cringes, talked deeply with me, even though we seemed not much of a pair, I was the reflection of herself, a younger version of herself, she connected to me in a different way that only a soul can give, I showed her, her soul.
The weed that I am smoking, cigarettes I’m dragging, books I’m reading, people I’m fucking, the money I’m seeking, validation I’m still looking for, the water I’m drinking…
I tell you, my friend, none of this is easy, owning a cat, standing up for your family, being responsible, making an impression, following trends, keeping up with friends, hell, fucking! Oh, dear…
I thought it will be easier for me, but this path is hard.