Why I Write

You know what surprises me? What makes me laugh? It is the fact that I write on this blog all the time but somehow I manage to pass all the wrong messages. I love writing. I write because that is the only way I can be heard without being interrupted. I do not write to hint at people. Unfortunately that is what I end up doing. There’s always someone somewhere who believes I am writing about him. What surprises me most is the fact that more than one person will think a post was about him.

Even more interesting is that the posts that fall prey to suspicious eyes are always about love. Like this one here or this one. I have decided to come out clear and tell you the truth behind my posts. I never write without a specific inspiration behind it. There is always someone I am writing about and most times, they do not even get to read it. The reason I write is because I believe someone else will relate to my experience and probably even learn something that helps him/her make a better decision.

I write when someone pisses me off. I write when someone makes me happy. Like watching a mushy movie and crying to unleash the inner feelings I have, I write for the same reason too. I find it rather healthy, other than, say, walking up to the culprit and knocking the daylights out of him.

I also write that I may be understood, even if I have been told that I am an expert in all things cryptic. Today, I was going to lash out at someone who pissed me off in the morning. Then I figured it would make no sense at all. The other day I asked a friend whether he’d ever read my blog and he went like “The one you usually rant and share the story of your lonely life? Or you have another?”

Okay. I was all “I hate you” and stuff but I said yes. Because, essentially, that is what I do in here. “I rant and share the story of my lonely life”. LOL

But seriously though, you have to be extra careful when you choose to go the blogging way. In many ways, it is an art. You have to pick the right moment to blog so that no one gets offended or realizes it’s about them. You also have to decide on whether you are going to be petty or real. Do you want to write for views (virality) or for actual useful content? I choose to go with the latter. I am not suggesting that viral cannot be useful, I am just saying it is not my thing.

Plus I use this as a platform for bigger things, if you know what I mean. Life is about progress and using what you have to do what you can until another door opens. That is what I do here. Hope you are doing the same in whatever area you are in. Chase what you love. Nothing will come to you without your effort. Like they say, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink. And as I write that, I have made a note to myself too because God knows I have watched dozens of opportunities pass me by as I watch.

December resolution, grab hold of every opportunity and see how it goes. There’s nothing to lose! Now you know why I do this. Or perhaps I just let you know what I want you to know. I guess you will never know.


My Secret Love

‘Hi dear. Can you guest post on my blog. Love story?’

All those butterflies asleep in my stomach are definitely up now. I am in class, someone is saying something at the front but all I can hear are screams in my head. The little Shikus in there are ecstatic! Someone finally invited them over to their blog! Yayy!

Ok, calm down little Shikus. Did you read what he requested? He specifically wants a love story? Please don’t laugh; we can do something about it, right?

You do not have to be in love to write about love. Heck, how sure are you that I am not in love? In fact, how sure am I that I am not in love? I have been in love for the longest time. Relax, I am not going to lead you down a mushy path then finally declare that I am in love with Jesus Christ (although that is true). No, I am in love with a human being; a male human being.

I have known him for a while now. I have hung out with him enough times. I hate all his jokes. I hate that he does not shave his beard. I hate that he has never told me he loves me, although I know he does. I love him so much that I cannot tell him I do, because that will spoil everything for us.

I love him because we never agree on anything. He will say that the earth rotates on its own axis and I will point out that his sentence is grammatically wrong. I will tell him something sweet and he will trash it, because he knows that is what I want. There’s a certain thrill in a man that challenges my wit. It means he is bright enough to do it. The day we agree on anything, there will be something off, either with him or with me. Or it will simply be a matter of urgency that we agree (for the earth to continue rotating around that axis it is used to).

I love him because he is modest. The problem is that there is a very thin line between modesty and shyness. He will never tell me he loves me because of that. And I will never tell him I love him because I know he knows.

I know I love him because I cannot look him straight in the eye for more than two seconds. I will feel this weird urge to smile (I’d say blush, but I have never understood why an African girl would come out in the open and claim she blushed. Seriously, our skin is designed to specifically never turn red.) Then a thousand other thoughts will come rushing in. Why am I not his girlfriend? Why can’t I just let him be my knight in shining armour?

And a couple of seconds later, in that moment of turning away, the little Shikus tell me why I am not his girlfriend; why I will not let him be the one. I love him. I love him too much to burden him with the Shiku that I become once I am declared his. Here’s the thing. If you choose me, you’d better be ready to be mine and mine alone. Be ready to be there when I need a shoulder to cry on. If you are not, then we are done. I will probably hate you after that.

I am contented with our secret love. He is my secret love and I am his.

Before I knew it, I had written an entire piece which is not your average love story. Maybe it is true, after all; you have to be normal to think up a love story. Now you know why I quit soap operas a long time ago. There has got to be more than that boy-meets-girl scenario. If love is so special, my love story has to be special too. I will let you know if my secret love metamorphoses into a secret marriage with little, chubby, secret kids.

(OK, you are probably wondering why this was posted here. Let’s just say I felt it going to waste wherever it was posted. Also, I don’t think I will guest blog any time soon again. Thank you Mr. Experience.)