0-9.

IMG_20181121_221830.jpg
Image credits: Tokyo_Sushi

Sometimes everything hits you all at once. You lose relationships, change jobs, old friends disappear, new ones come et cetera. It’s usually up one day and down the next. You could have it all on Monday and by Friday have nothing. You’d begin to wonder what’s wrong with you. Haven’t your stars aligned? Is your chakra unbalanced? Often you’d be pushed to the extreme causing depression and frustrations. After a while though, you’d bounce back, as you always do. You have taken that as a comfort. You clearly know that too many wrongs can’t make a right, but you are still optimistic that they could.
At times you feel like you are at the end of your ropes. You have nowhere to turn. You feel like you are squeezed tight in a cola bottle. You can’t turn or twist. It’s choking you, it hurts when you know you’ve hit rock bottom. You want to cry. You want to go home to mama, to hear her assure you that it’s gonna be okay. But you’re a man. You were brought up with the notion that men don’t cry. You were raised by an archaic father who believed that a man should never cry in front of a woman. So you decide against going home and you deal with your demons head on like you are used to.

Tears are brought by many things. You have never believed in tears of joy. Some men would cry through violence. They’d release their anger by breaking and punching things. You were taught good morals that you shouldn’t make a woman your punching bag. You’ve adhered to that. Lately you’ve been crying with a bottle of alochol by your side. You’ve been feeling like a piece of shit at the start and end of every bottle. You’ve been promising yourself never to return to that misery, but you’ve long since accepted that misery is your best friend. You’ve allowed him to hang around for a while. Everything on the outside looks good, though deep down you know you’re a mess, a raging turmoil of a full blown typhoon. Your neighbor would occasionally wave to you each time she saw you sitting at your balcony. A cigarette always dangled in between your lips the ash hanging dangerously from the burning end. You never seemed to mind her. You were worlds apart. At times you’d just get in your car and have a long drive on the eastern bypass. That seemed to calm your nerves most of the times.

When you thought things couldn’t get better, you were handed a show course letter. You treaded carefully. It seemed that bad luck and mojo followed you most of the times. Your friends avoided you all together. You became a loner. You frequented new joints or rather seedy spots that offered strip tease dancing in those dangerous parts of town where no sane soul would dare go. By this time you’ve graduated to a different form of crying, you’d wake up in strange beds with different women every other weekend. Your relationship with God became a pathetic one. You seldom prayed, and when you did it would always seem like a class presentation. You always wondered what God thought of you. Perhaps he saw you as a lazy bum who didn’t bother much with Him and that’s probably why he let things happen to you. Once in a while you contemplate about selling your soul for whatever desire is in your mind. The thought of burning forever in the afterlife always brings you back to reality. You think of calling one of the girls you used to shag but you decide against it. You’d rather have loyalty than love because love don’t really mean jack. You see love as just a feeling, you’re pretty used to loving somebody and it has always ended in either one of you stabbing the other in the back. Coin flips both ways. You see loyalty as an action where one can either love or hate you but still have your back.

You are tired of everything. You go to church to try to make amends with the guy that gave you breath of life. In that moment of sanity you realise that you have been a pussy for masking your fears and insecurities behind binge drinking, dabbing your lungs with smoke every now and then while waking up in strange women’s bed. You realise it is okay to lay low, you’re human and not an AI humanoid. You decide to talk to God about what you’ve been going through because you are his child made of flesh and blood.
You take your time and have a tête a tête with Him and when you are done, you feel lighter and energized. The light seems bright as you walk out through the church doors.

“Hey, hey wake up. Is everything okay? I could hear you mumbling in your sleep.” Your eyes meet a pair of beautiful eyes staring down at you, shaking you from your reverie. How did she get in here?

“I saw smoke coming out of your kitchen window from across my balcony and decided to come check if everything was okay with you.” You totally forgot that you had something cooking in the oven.

Shit.

“Your kitchen looks like a disaster.” She says.

You rise up from where you had passed out with your empty whiskey bottle in hand.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *