Being His

-


“I’m beautiful, I’m funny, I’m gentle, I’m kind,” I tell myself while standing by the mirror.

It’s my daily routine, the kind of confidence I must don before I step out of the door.
It’s the dose I need to have the strength on my feet to walk hand in hand with the man that I say I love.

“You’re beautiful, you make me laugh, your soul is gentle, your heart is kind,” he told me, not once, not twice. That was when his world revolved around me, when he would pursue me relentlessly, when he had the conviction, he loved me and wanted me to be his.

And I was, and I loved him back and I felt beautiful, funny and kind.
Time passed on and I am still his but I am not sure anymore.

“You’re beautiful, you’re gentle, you’re kind,” is what I tell the reflection I see when I look at me, because now I have to remind me that; he doesn’t say it anymore.

I am his but the four adjectives are thrown to others but me, he doesn’t realize I need them as much now as he needed to say them when he once desired to be mine. He doesn’t know for every compliment and attention given to every other girl is one more brick laid to build a fortress of insecurities.

I am his but I am not, not when I am feeling like a random girl in his eventful life, an audience to his games; not when his sloppiness hurts me; not when he gets to a point where he forgets that being his means that every day I should feel beautiful, and gentle and kind.
He made me and he should ensure that forever stays when it comes to me and being his.



Comments

Post a Comment

Yey, you read!

Popular posts from this blog

Survival for the loudest chap

-
Image
It's a Friday night in an eighth full matatu(team positivity) and I'm going wherever the party's at. I'm a little frustrated from frantic calls I'm getting from another fella and I won't pick them anyway. A raggedy brother hops in, looks around and he settles for where I am. I'm mad, what are all these empty se ats for? I know I'm not looking pretty as my hair is held back with no much thought put into neatness. I'm in a trenchcoat and some random pants I jumped into hurriedly. Or it's that thing they say about you being who you att ract? I'm actually mad because he has a boiled maize on his left that he's gnawing at unapologetically and a fat avocado on his right. Wait, no, that's no crime. It's his chewing that's getting to my nerves. "You can have a bite," he offers with his mouth full and pointing the maize at me. I'll pass lawfully. My reason being chewing maize is exhausting for me, so I'm
Read more

Cold Feet

-
“It’s obvious that by now you know I like you a lot.” “What?” I retort with a cheeky face I make when I’m trying to downplay these situations. “I do, and it feels like you’re stealing my heart ma’am.” “But I am a career criminal Sir, you shouldn’t be surprised.” My humour kicks in and I’m getting excited. “I can’t have you running in the streets free like that, I should cuff you sometime.” “Well, catch me if you can!” and I cough faintly. “Ok, get your witty ass in we got to go.”   I have a cold but he says we should go out. He insists and fine, I let him have it. I could manage. We drive off to grab some burgers at the mall and catch up in an open space. He says staying indoors and cuddling up with my teddy bear, Bubbles, doesn’t help. He speaks like an indigenous Kenyan and I totally understand. He says I look good today. With my blue cardigan sweater, jeans and bata ngomas. “But my eyes are bloodshot don’t you see? “But I said what I said Monique.” His inner self mus
Read more

The Zombie Apocalypse

-
Image
I look at generational gap in so many ways, and my parents just make it clear how lost they feel living amongst us. Well, my dad made it even crisper, ha-ha. I had my series in CDs and would leave them at the TV area. So someday, my dad got ahold of walking dead which he chose to watch at night, mistake number one. All we could hear was him gasping, “My goodness!” every other two seconds in some kind of tone. Worse, he was alone in the living room. My old man is brave, those zombies are driving him crazy but he keeps on, until when he realizes that this thing won’t end. Well, he wasn’t raised watching series. So he relinquished the trauma! I too, got really cold chills watching XYZ but my amusement couldn’t let me back down till I got used to them, even horror movies don’t do nothing to me anymore, except Hannibal. It’s a thriller that apprehends me, and I need the lights on to get through it. All this time I zoom into the film industry asking myself why? I mean what are these
Read more