Identity Crisis

It really is amusing to hear what people think of you, especially those ‘closest’ to you. It’s not that am overly obsessed about the opinions of others – can’t lie that a few remarks haven’t bothered me but hardly more than the next Joe – but it still startles me to realize how little people, even those that I deem closest, know about me. It’s ridiculous that anyone would think me the ‘gung-ho adventurer’ type, poor anxiety -ridden me?! How deceived they all are (I take the extra effort to conceal those insecurities). Still, such trifles are flattery enough to drive me to such brazen foolhardiness, just so I can prove them right. ‘The guy walking naked into a game-reserve dangling a piece of blood-dripping flesh around his neck shouting, “oi Lions, get it fresh from here”, I have been that guy a few times.

It’s incredible that anyone thinks me to be smart, when am so good at self-destructive insanity. I even remember being termed as an ‘exceptionally-gifted child’ at one point  –  teachers are easily impressed and all too quick with their compliments – but all that seems like eons ago and am not even sure whether that kid grew-up to be me. I admit I have always had an inflated estimation of my own intellect, perhaps because I have let it all go into my head but if intelligence was based solely on the knowledge of one’s self, then on a scale of aptitude I would rank as a dim-wit!

Conformity has become the worst of my ineptitude; I am in awe of the man that I want me to be but he is unfamiliar to me, so instead I find myself becoming the person you think me to be. You paint a portrait colored with a brush of adventure, excitement and unlimited potential and its attraction is consuming; when mystery becomes uncertainty, contemplation becomes doubt and audacity becomes insanity, then I need you to define my identity!  I used to be good at being me, different; always a rebel but I never needed a cause until now. I feel too old for the torn jeans, crazy hair-dos and random bus trips. Perhaps am just getting found out as an impostor, and the wanderer in me was just a shallow trick of illusion.

It scares me to know that when I look into my mirror, I see you! It’s utterly horrible, that the psycho-babble you so religiously pander to – ‘quarter-life crisis’ is en vogue – should seem comprehensible to me and even worse that it should begin to describe my condition. I just wanted to fit-in; it’s cold and lonely watching on from the outside and the path well-trodden doesn’t take an effort to follow and it has led me to this tragic predicament. We are now shrouded in the same depression; your uncertainties and insecurities have become my own. If only my cure would work for you; a pinch of psychedelic and I can be everybody you could never be!

Raindrops.

I think about fears and how they hold us back, how they create these seemingly insurmountable obstacles on the path towards happiness, how they take away the best parts of us; stripping away at all that makes us strong, fun and imaginative, leaving only a shell  behind. I think of all the things I would like to have and I see all the reasons why I can’t have them; I think of all of the dreams I have had and how my fears are tearing those away from me.  So many hopes and pieces of dreams turned into questions and doubts.

Sometimes I feel brave and in moments of calm inspiration I can see a vision of bliss but those moments have become fewer and far between; only when it rains and when a raindrop falls on my window, an aperture in reality opening up to a far away world where I can see those dreams with such clarity that I almost start to believe.  But just as fleetingly that bubble bursts and the raindrop rolls away and instead am staring at the rain and it seems cruel and remorseless, washing away all the markers to my happiness. In the ensuing nothingness, I get lost and I can’t remember where I was going, I feel trapped; locked up in a suffocating box with the worst of myself.

The truth is that you were a rain-drop moment, in that perfect moment of meeting you I became blind to my fears; I thought the rain would last. Every day with you was a rainy day; every moment was pure ecstasy, it was a magic that carried me away to that world where happiness could exist.  I was swept away and for a moment I shed my fears, took a leap and soared high above all the clouds of doubt and into a heaven beyond my wildest dreams.

You said that your biggest fear was that I would get bored with you and walk away from what we had. All the while I called you crazy for thinking that I could leave behind the only part of me that really mattered; you are the best thing that ever happened to me and that will never change. I never got bored because I believed in us with such a fervent devotion that even forever seemed surmountable but it wasn’t enough to conquer my fears and I forgot to believe in myself.

Sometimes the memories of being in-love evoke that bravery and in that reverie, caught-up in the reminiscences, I want to call you. I think that what we had could still be salvaged; I think that maybe I didn’t try hard enough and we just need another try. And just when I think I there’s a fight to be won, just when I start to get that feeling that I might soar again, just when I start to feel the tingling in my fingers,  my fears come around to remind me that I don’t have a hero within me.

It is raining again today and raindrops are falling on my windscreen, a thousand worlds with countless different possibilities and with you in all of them!

The friend you need…

Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I feel like I have the weight of the world on shoulders, I just want to roll over to the other side of the bed and go back to sleep; it’s so much easier to let that anchor drag you down to the depths but then every time I start to go below the surface I remember the so called ‘so-what’ factor…everybody has problems of their own and then the all so over-whelming, ‘it could be worse’ dissertation! Now, if there is something I dislike, it’s those people who try to motivate you by showing you how much worse the situation could be; at least you have a roof over your head, they draw very vivid pictures of a little kid in Somalia that hasn’t had any food or clean water for days, they remind you that 70% of the population is sub-Saharan Africa are living below the poverty. As good intended as this maybe – as it does show you how infinitely better your life is in comparison to – I believe it only adds to your uneasiness – albeit subconsciously – because you get to see just how bottomless the pit really is. Personally, I am a ‘happily-ever-after’ sorta fella; I am not waiting for a silver spoon to fall into my lap but I know if you keep trying then you’ll definitely get that break. I just want you to point out the markers; show me the next exit and I will find the motivation to get there…

The ‘problem-shared-is problem-solved’ premise – believe it or not – works for everyone (yeah, even the really evil ones too, like Darth Vader and a couple of friends I have ) In theory at least – and I know Dougie (see the ‘couple of friends’ bit above) will simply write this one off as another example of that psycho pseudo-science gibberish – an anxious mind will only magnify your worries and make mountains out of mole-hills. When the unsettled mind tries to create solutions, it’s like trying to see through a fog. So when you share, you unburden your mind, it’s like put the weights down to stretch, it’s like surfacing for breath, it gives you new strength and sometimes a new perspective, they don’t have to suggest any solutions, most of time you have the answers within yourself but you just need to find some space to sift through the clatter and find the answers without questions. There is no worse torture to the soul than the feeling that you have no-one to talk to, the ‘me-against-the-world’ scenario that can lead to a despondency and apathy. My mum says I should pray but since I am too small to talk to God, I (borrowing a trick from exalted company like Khalil Gibran and Ralph) solved that problem by creating seven other selves in my head that I could talk to but even that sometimes is not enough because they are all…well, a little too crazy, imaginary even! So then I learned how to write…

So the pen is my truest friend because she ruthlessly depicts my inadequacies, makes a mockery of my fears and she doesn’t judge or make any expectations of me…she is that friend that I only reach-out for on nights when I feel alone, when I feel weighed down by the burden of living; always faithful and ready to listen. I share my worries with her and she makes an art out of it, she unburdens me and helps me to make sense of things. I hope that you can all find such a friend, one who will listen to the horrors that darken your soul, look at your ugly nakedness and know when you need the truth…

Mere Males…

I was talking to someone much older, wiser and infinitely more traveled than I am – currently visiting Kenya from ‘far-away’ – and he remarked that young women in Nairobi appear more confident and present a better self-image than the young men who in comparison seem shy, even clumsy; clearly struggling to project a positive self-image. I admittedly haven’t noticed this before, perhaps because I am a part of it, I don’t know if you have?!

So today I observed my small sister, waking-up at six o’clock to prepare breakfast and then dressing-up for an interview in a fabulous attire; matching jacket, belt, shoes, bag…so self-assured and seemingly light-years older, befuddled by the purposefulness in her motions. Ideally I should be the role-model; the ‘adult’… but the truth is that for a while now I have been lagging horribly in the ‘grown-up stakes’. She keeps things ticking; managing the house-hold budget, waking-me up so I can make my appointments and worrying herself with my problems. Basically the lassies have it more put together than the lads; they just have a superior mass above their shoulders. The girls know what they want and what they need to do or sacrifice to get it, they have a solid values-system; your sister will most likely move out of the house, get a degree and pretty much everything else before you do, she probably even knows the date of her wedding!

The boys? Well, we want fuck all; we are struggling to create our self-identities in a juxtaposition of a disintegrating African culture, changing gender roles and fewer role models since the dominant male is a dying breed. We want mummy to hold our hands and change our diapers until we find a replacement we call a wife…

I observed the same phenomenon in the Arab world where the girls struck me as a great deal more grown-up than boys of the same age; more confident, responsible, focused and incredibly self-aware and all this in a culture where – through a western perspective – women are supposedly less-than-equal. If it’s any comfort for my friends though, this is not a situation unique to these places; it’s an inherent global human condition, it’s also happening in California, Jerusalem and Papua New Guinea, Michelle Obama made the decision allowing him to run for presidency. It’s true that girls mature much faster than boys and by their late teens they have started to master the complexities that are problem solving, personal planning and restraint, while the boys are still marveling at toys into their late twenties (some never get there at all and they are still seeking cheap thrills at forty)! You don’t believe me, give your boyfriend a car and see if he will resist the need to hit full throttle, he is still three turning 30…

Before now, we got away with it because of the chauvinistic nature of society; women have been so docile and submissive, working themselves to death & putting-up with lousy sex, while we slept-around and moaned about how poorly they did it all. But luckily – for my sister – things are changing and the patience has worn thin and the women are changing the ‘status-quo’. The women realized they are being short-changed, they don’t need someone to open a pickle jar because and this is a true story she is more efficient at fixing the doors and leaky plumbing. So why does she need a man, if she needs ‘something’ to sit around, demand for attention and cuddle with – this being our last card- she can just get a pet. For whatever else you might be thinking and smirking about, believe me, they have all sorts of toys and apparently android applications too it’s hooray for the feminists…

So gentlemen if your evenings are not booked, let us take some time-out to trade notes and hopefully raise chivalry back from the dead…

Circle of Life

When the blues have come and the smiles are gone

When the stakes are down and the mistakes are done

When voices are raised and all the wrongs are said

When you ultimately tire of trying to make sense of things

When the memories fade and the regrets abate

When there aren’t any more signs of life left

When things come to an end and it’s truly over

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That’s when the rebirth will come

When experience has taught you the obvious lessons

That’s when the truth dawns on you; there is more to life

She wasn’t the first to leave & you will not be the last to go

Forever only lasts a season till the colors change, nothing like diamonds

You will find your dreams again and dust-off your passions

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When you think you finally have everything figured-out

When you are full of conviction that you can’t be twice a fool

When you have finally found a good bed-fellow in loneliness

That’s when you will fall-in-love & the sun will shine in your eyes again

When you are back to the beginning and things come a full circle

A circle that never ends…

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Keep Trying…

I know you can’t keep picking-up the pieces but you can’t give-up on me now either because you are the only one who knows how to fix me up and make everything alright again. I know I always seem to miss the point but it’s not because am burying my head in the sand, I am just a dreamer, a hopeless romantic and I keep thinking that maybe if I try hard enough I can bring the stars to you, to wear as jewelry on your neck to match the light that radiates in your eyes. I just never thought that your fortitude could reach a breaking point; in retrospect am amazed you stayed this long.

The times I thought I couldn’t survive it; moments of utter despondency when I almost let go, nights when I sunk so deep that I nearly drowned, so beaten and broken that I couldn’t find the pieces, so lost that even pain could not find me, mornings when it hurt so much that there was nothing left to feel. But I pressed on, barely clutching at straws; I found a reason to keep trying…I searched for this redemption; I wanted to make you proud of, to make you believe again, to remind you how love and teach you to trust again, to unburden of the undeserved guilt that you carry and to see you smile again.

I know I really disappointed you; I broke your heart and I failed you miserably but I wish you could see me now; am still not half the man you believed I could be but am more than the sorry mess you walked out on; the shameful wreck you left wallowing in self-pity, there are signs of life now! Those days are behind me now, the nervous break-downs; scared and sobbing into your breast like a little boy, my endless fights with countless demons and skeletons…I still can’t fly but at least am not drowning at the bottom of a bottle. I learnt to pour my sorrows into this journal; to let the pen take my pain and fears away but I still need looking after.

I know you found your home in another’s arms and I don’t begrudge you that happiness…I know you closed that chapter but the pages have kept turning and our ending is still unwritten, there still might be a happily ever after for us. I have tried to do it alone but I am terribly addicted; I am a hopeless junkie now and baby, I desperately need my fix.  I am afraid I will slip back – this fragile persona will all break apart- if I can’t get my strength back. I need my dreams to keep believe and can’t find those without my moon. One more night – is what I would like to promise you – but the truth is, I can’t get enough; it never worked in small doses; none of it makes sense and I could never be whole without you…just this once and maybe it will come back to you, maybe you will want to try again. Maybe you need me too; you’re a healer, I am broken and every doctor needs a patient.

Sometimes you have to lose it all, to know what’s worth keeping but in you are all I have; I have nothing else to lose. You always told me that you don’t believe in second chances but I only beg for pittances; not patience and understanding nor forgiveness and trust but for compassion and a cold comfort and maybe with time I will earn a little reprieve. I will wait for a thousand lifetimes, if that is what it takes; wishing on shooting stars, full-moons, candles, roses, rainbows, planes and anything else in the skies and on earth.

If I ever get the chance again, I promise to be the man you deserve; strong, loving, truthful and simple. I promise to be there for you, to make it up to you for all the lost time, this time I will not only bring you the stars but I will wrap them with the heavens…Maybe I am setting myself up to fail again but I will try.

Maybe I will never give you paradise but still, I keep trying!

You could be happy…

We were never going to change, forever young, remember? You used to believe that once; oh the dreams we had, Kindred souls, always gay, we could have slain dragons you and I, side by side. We were going to soar, fly with the eagles above the skies, swim in the depths in the corals, sleep in the deserts and make love under the stars, climb the highest peaks where we’d cuddle to stay warm and fall back into the sun…that house by the lake where we would raise our little girl, you would change the world and I would wait patiently at home with a back-rub and a hot cup of chocolate…You don’t feel that way anymore, we both have haven’t for a long while now; we betrayed those dreams and let the fire die away and your smile doesn’t rise to your eyes, those eyes full of possibility, shimmering with imagination, glowing with a fire of possibilities, daring me to dream, oh those eyes that lured to believe, enticed me into such mischief, those eyes where the sun used to rise and set, so radiant; those eyes were my sign…I am sitting here now, a broken man, frozen by fear because I don’t what to do, I can’t reach you anymore and I feel lost and incomplete because I lost my flame and my moon doesn’t shine anymore and your eyes have dimmed, all the signs are gone and this time I don’t know where the lights are leading to…

I hear you screaming, twisting, turning and thrashing in bed at night trying in vain to break loose from these restraints. You want to leave this cage that your lack of strength has become…What happened to those dreams to change the world, you were supposed to spark minds but you let the comfort of knowing what tomorrow holds keep you down and you have lost your will to fly. You let the world clip your wings, beat you down and you gave up on everything you should have been.

You are getting old now and your heart grows darker, tormented by self-loath and bitterness, you forgot how to let me into your heart so I could make it better, oh how I have tried to breakdown those walls, reduced to a voyeur, listening in from the edges but never enough to get the hang of things….I see how it shatters your confidence to look in the mirror every morning, searching for answers, tracing the lines of regret etched on your skin, in your eyes there is an acceptance about the finality of defeat, acquiescent apathy, knowing that you ought to be more than we are living for now.

I used to be your strength, your reason for trying to move mountains but now you can barely conceal the resentment in your heart, you look at me in disdain and speak of my achievements in tones of derision because now I hold the keys to the cage that keeps you imprisoned, in compliance with your failures. we are so lonely together now and the world we lived in crumbled…of all your mistakes, am the most contemptible and all because I dare to stick around as if in commemoration of your defeat; you compromised and settled and I am the starkest reminder of what you were and a disgusting proof of the depths to which you have plummeted.

If I let you go I know you will land on your feet and find your way back to where you ought to be or in the very least you will find the fire that burned in your eyes, maybe you’ll learn to dream again and create new dreams, you might even find some real happiness. But part of me, in such neurotic egotism, wants to keep you here; though you are cold and distant and I could never reach you heart with words or kisses. You are still my star even if you don’t shine anymore and losing you is more than I can bear but my anxieties grow because it’s starting to dawn on me now that it’s no longer within my powers to keep you to myself. You were meant for the world and a bigger stage than the pittances of my heart.