Love. Loss. Lessons. Life.

2012 was planned out. I had it all figured out. What I was going to do. The places I was going to visit. The trips I was going to make. The achievements I was to add to the list. The things I wasn't going to do. The people I was forever done with.
2012 started out with a review if this blog in the Sunday Vision. 2012  started out with all these writing offers, and me promising to take them on.
2012 is more than half-way gone. I've hardly written.
Writer's block, severed friendships, lost semi-love, home-front drama and 7 months down 2012, the list is still unchecked.

I thought I was done with it all, I thought I had mastered the art of self-love, self-forgiveness, survival and bouncing back. But life...oh, life. The un-warning visitor. Bearer of news both heavy and light.
It's been 7 long months. Of sighs, questions, prayers, semi-depression and just when I thought I was all dried up, tears. The anger, pain, loss, disillusionment of the past months have manifested in rivers of tears I thought long dried up.
 Reviewing; Life in lessons

1. You don't ned your entire phone book of friends.

At my lowest and darkest hours, 6 people stood out. Make that 7, for Stella who left this sucky place 6 years back. But yes. I have been the un-official mother to tens of friends. Which means I have done the friending, checking-on part most of the time. When the tables turned; the sad but liberating truth came to life. Tabitha, Liza, Joel, Stella, Peron, Peace, Sarah N. And Steve, who eventually gave up on me. 8 people fought for my life and sanity. 8 people begged, coerced, confronted, prayed and cried until bit by bit, we got me back.
8 people saved my life. And that's not an exaggeration.

  2.  I give too much.
In "Bed of Lies" by Matchbox 20, Rob Thomas sang; "I tried to be more than me, and I gave until it all went away..."
I gave my love, my time, my attention, my...all to people, yes, people. Who took, and took, and when I was dried up, they all left. One by one, I watched the people who'd claimed so much love and care for me, walk away. 
Because I had no more to give.
Because I asked that dammit, for once, could I be on the receiving end? Could I be given the time, attention and love I was giving out?
I asked for more. I fought for more. I begged for more. And they walked. Because I was asking for too much. Because I wasn't understanding. Because I was dramatic.
Because I was exhausted.
I gave too much. They gladly took it and left me empty and dry.
But then I learned. C'est la vie.

3. People always leave.
In One Tree Hill, Peyton lost so much. To death. To other girls. And this became her mantra' "People always leave."
It's weird how after one breakup, you believe you'll never feel the same amount of hurt. Until the next break up. The next walk away. Then you know. That each breakup takes it's own piece of you. Each walk away brings in its own flood of tears.
Each goodbye comes with a dozen "Please don't leave mes." 
Each "I can't do this anymore" brings on a fresh unwanted supply of "But what the fuck is wrong with me's?"
Each" I am not so sure about us" leaves you drenched with countless " Why won't you be so sure about me, instead?
People leave. Your heart gets broken.
People forget you. Your heart hardens.
People move on or, go back. Your heart dissolves in low self-esteem and "I wish I was prettiers"
People make their choices. And it's not you.
You tell your heart to be still. There's only so many cracks-and aches-it-can-take-on. For the same people.
People leave. People leave. People leave.
And you live.

4. We invented the drama.
Maybe not so knowingly, but we did. We got into and stayed in places we shouldn't have gotten into in the first place.
Some wise fellow said that when actions and words differ, believe the actions. Actions don't lie. I am a writer so it's no surprise that I am a sucker for words. How word-love turned to foolery is...is human, I guess.
Your true friends love you even when depression means you don't want to party for months on end. When you're not so cheery and smiley, the people who love you will still adore you. Even when your self induced house arrest comes in, they will adore you. Over texts, calls, IMs and prayers.
This is cliche but true; when someone wants to be in your life, they make room for you. No amount of promises, flirting, sexting or pleading will get you onto the schedule of someone who doesn't want to make time for you.
You don't need to beg for the time of someone who wants to be in your life. Rain or shine. Miles be damned, someone who wants to see you will see you.
It's that simple. And that difficult.

5.  I tried self-sacrifice. I botched the job.
Because life is too damned unpredictable. Because I consider myself to be fairly clever but Lord, have I screwed up. And the worst screw up is, I lost the love of me. Somewhere along the way, I thought it romantic to be self-sacrificial. Asking. Begging. Taking crumbs. Not demanding for what I deserved, what I was promised.
I asked for promises to be fulfilled, I got accusations of not being understanding.
I asked for a break from the night life, I learned who my true friends were.
When I thought over giving wasn't stupid enough, I took on self-blame. Blame for a failed relationship. A relationship that needed two people to make it work. I shouldered all the blame. Blamed myself for "tying...insisting..." I believed them when they said this time, they'd make it work, then I took the blame when the promise fell through the cracks. Again. And again. And damned again.
I blamed myself. And hated myself. And questioned myself. And apologised, when I should have held my head high and asked for better treatment. For more sensitivity. For understanding.
Until a brilliant woman forced me to question my self doubt.
Until she held my crying face and forced me to look into the mirror and understand. Once and for all.
My only fault was loving too much. And forgetting the simple truth; when someone truly loves and cares for you, it shows.
You can't hide love. Also, love doesn't hurt. It feels good. Really good.

6.  Ever after.
It's been a tough road. The last 7 months haven't been easy. But I learned. To let my friends in, because they're God's earthly angels and life savers.
To forgive. God, it's hard. To forgive yourself.
To forgive someone who you've come to realize, never really cared.
To forgive the small things like not calling on your birthday to breaking promises on end.
To heal. I have taken time off for me. For once in years. I shut out the bars, the parties.
And read. Slept. Prayed. Cried. Fought with God. Wept.

Until the blackness started to lift. Until I stopped judging me by looks or, lack of looks. Brilliance or lack of enough brilliance. On who loved me and who left me.
Until I learned to take it one day at a time. One item, one list at a time.
Until I learned, again; to put me at the top of each list.

Because nobody can love me like I can.

StayTheSame; Message in a song.

I have not written anything in months. Not a single line. Well, there was the 5 lines of a brief but recurrent conversation I have with Stella. They say we should let the dead rest but I seem to be failing terribly at that. Every night, for the last three months, there have been one, two, three, lined conversations with the girl that somehow managed to make it easy for me to breakdown. Not get on to drugs and their friends breakdowns, no. Cry, sob, brood, stop-trying-to-hold-it-together sort of breakdowns. I adore my friends but I can't seem to be able to be that way with any of them. Horrible pain, death on the outside...I'll meet them and pull on the smiling mask. I have tried but it's not happening. Not soon enough. So I rant at Stella...and when my mind is just too clogged like it was this morning, I write. Silly, text-like paragraphs that I hope she'll somehow read and maybe, just maybe, ask God to let a miracle happen...and hear her voice. Or have her show up at my bedside so I can...un-choke...

I didn't get a reply to my book-text of course. Not the conventional written back response anyway. But I got a response. And now for the first time in months I opened my blog and didn't turn away in...self-loathing for failing to do the one thing I am remotely good at. Self-loathe because I feel I am letting down the God that gave me this...gift. Self-hatred because I have NOT read any blogs, books or magazines- I could not stand any written thing because they all looked back at me in derision, they mocked me for being a failure. I read Els' blog because she's my bestie and somehow, her writing, even back in school, was the only one I always felt...un-alienated to. Maybe it' s because in my silly head, she's one of my soulmates and even at my worst-worst-est, there's always a...connection.
More on Stella's reply;

I love music. Mildred says I love melancholic music. I do. So in search for strength to get me through  the day, I wrote to Stella first, then remembered that Plus One- the Gospel group always lifted me. Thanks to smartphones, I start to download some of their songs and this list of all their music shows up, I scroll to get "my" songs and right in the centre of this list is "Stay the same" by Joey McIntyre.
The connection with Stella?

That was "our" song. The song that got two, liitle (short is...disrespectful, people)...two little, volatile-tempered, fast-speaking, overflowing with pride and attitude but stuffed with...pain, that song made it easier. Pain brought on by first loves not going so smoothly, people who made it their business to poke, pinch, a school that made prison seem pretty attractive...That song was the one thing we could always quote to each other when life happened and our own words could not do. So I go "WTFH?" She answered my...filled-with-despair-and-I'm seriously-going-to-break-down-if-someone-does-not-find-me-fast message.
As soon as yesterday, as soon as the last three fucked up months.

The excitement was short lived though. No, I do not doubt that Stella actually looked down, turned to God and said,

"Listen. I know it's not Your way to do things that're not your perfect will, but my friend is gone. She's died a little more everyday. She's told Els, Tab, Sarah, Celia and Joel that she wasn't so okay but she didn't say how not okay. She's shut out every except You- who strangely are holding back from rescuing her and, me. And I get that this is your territory but that down there was part of my territory (aka, soul-mate) and You know well how stubborn, how strong-willed that...mateship...partnership was. I will not watch my friend wither away. I turned her world black once before and if she doesn't get...help, she's going to turn some few worlds dark. Soon. So, I'm going down. With or without You God, I'm reaching for Moe's heart, and soul, and mind. Not showing up physically...that quite can't happen but I'll...reach. I'll reach in a way she'll know for sure is me letting her know I listened. I never stopped. It might be after 6 years, but dammit Makuba, I never left you. Now listen to that song, fall apart all you want, then let's get you back to living.

And nope, you can't come be with me, Moe. Not yet. You will, you will. Just not yet. Live the life we'd mapped out. There's been too many changes, I know. Too many and too unhappy.

Stop stiffling, stop fighting, stop trying to not feel. It is okay to be in pain. It's okay to be without enthusiasm for...anything or...anyone. It's perfectly normal to want to run away. It's okay to...lose the fight in you. It's okay to...not want to fight for...friendships and relationships that you cherish so damn much because sometimes, the fight is what takes the warmth and fire out of them. It's okay not to want to...remind the people you care for of your presence...if they don't remember...it'll pinch but babe...you'll live. You will not be this person anymore. For you. For me. For the ones who...care. And you will remember that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, doesn't mean they don't love you with all of them.

You used to be brilliant, what's been going on, woman? Whom have you been hanging with? Shit will happen. But you can't go down any further Moe, you've sort of hit rock bottom. And we know how off tangent you can go. In your silly head, it's attractive but the plan was to leave the stage with applause ringing..not glitzy applause but to leave a few hearts glad they got to know you. But you're at the point where if you left now...there'd not be a lot of gladness. It is life. It can't not change. It can't be sunny and rosy all year round, it can't be clean and laugh-ey. But you can't change with each season.

Look where that's gotten us.

Now people are going to think you've actually lost it. Truth be told, they always thought so ;-).
Be brave Moe.
Start fighting for your dreams. Again. And again. And again. In the meantime, stay the same. Mwaahs. Mwaahs. Flowing love. For always."

That is my crazy mind's analysis of this morning's...happenings. Maybe it's silly that I think my friend spoke to me through a song...maybe I'll still be unhappy tomorrow. But it's not silly that my Android music app said "Stay the same"  was from an album titled "Plus One". Maybe it's silly that I know of three people who like me, seek for solace in the arms of people who've left this world.
Maybe today is the day my mojo got back from vacation?
Who cares?

I have written for the first time in months and that feels...good enough. I'll question the strange journey my mind is taking on another day.

For the first time in weeks, I got a...sign that there is a light at the end of this dark tunnel. And sometimes, that's all you need. A sign- that life isn't over. That the fight is still on. That you lost some battles but you're not out.

That it's time.
To snap the heck out of depression. That it's not as easy as writing that last statement was. That there will be withdrawals and bad days, and sleepless nights but there'll also be smiles and love and hugs and Coke and...and friends...wonderful friends; the people who will not let you go down that easy. The people that will move mountains and do what it takes to shoo the darkness out of you. Even if it means reaching down from heaven and sending the message through a mobile phone mp3 down-loader.

I was at a dangerous low this morning and my 'Ella reached for me.

I have been at a dangerous low for months and my friends have been reaching for me, but with each reach, I've been slipping further away. Now, I'll let them hold my hand.

This is for the girls who have fought for me and my sanity over the last three months.
For the friends who have checked because they love and care and not because " You've been quiet/ lost Momo/ some chucking...blah fucking blah."
Yes. I am mad and hurt by everyone who's checked because I have not checked on them in a while. Maybe it's unreasonable but does it cross your mind that I need to be checked on? Once in a-three-months-while?

For Els who has...I can't find the words, and I just teared up, you osso. Thank you my love. For prying, then retreating, then prying again, then getting tough. Even if I avoided it all. Thank you for always fighting for me. In your silent, Google chat way. Thank you for not walking, even when the walls refuse to budge.

And Tab who loves me enough to have dreams of scarily-unhappy me. For reading my silence and disappearance better than anyone else I know or claims to know me. For fighting with me because I was shutting out everyone. For insisting that I talk. Even if that didn't happen, I love you. Because the first fight we ever had stemmed from you not willing to let me give up, but most of all, you not willing to let me fight alone.

For Sarah. My Mere..I heart you. For telling me to fight on my knees but being sensitive enough to not push it. For constantly checking on me even with just days left to bringing our little miracle to this world. For being my friend.

For Joel...Thank you Sunshine. For trying to see me, for checking, for letting me be. For that beautiful piece on the book group. I will make it up to you. All the cancelled dates. And you can choose what I'll wear. Pinky promise.

For Agnes and Betty, my spriritual mentors.

For God...who always finds a way in. With me, it's always been the same routine. Through my friends. My angels of friends.

For Stella. Who for the first time in 6 years, actually answered, and just on time. I miss you 'Ella. God, I miss you.

For me.
Because I wrote. Because I am giving myself permission to be happy. To stop trying to do it all. Because I don't know when/ if I'll write again. Because I know that what I can do, what I have, are not the only determinants of who I am. Because I read Mildred's blog. And ULK. Because it's been too long and too hard but I finally read other people's work. And got Google Reader on my phone.

To Android and smartphones, banaye!
Without them, this day would have gone and ended very differently. Badly differently.

To life. I am back.

Dealing. Faith. Breathing.

I have the most murderous thoughts going through my mind.
Gruesome images of body-mutilation and stabbing and choking. Not of myself please. I am way too narcissist to consider putting my pretty self through any physical pain. I want to hurt you. In ways I haven't wanted to hurt anyone since the day they went and cancelled Friends. Okay. It wasn't that bad. Still.
I want to hurt you for hurting me and for being the biggest asshole this side of the planet. I want to hurt you because you re-define callous and reckless. And heartless. Yes. You, the-one-that-I-just-let-go-of are the universal definition of heartless.
And I am the universal definition of proud and strong-headed and mentally-loose-ish. At least by your standards. So, what the hell was a brilliant girl like myself even doing getting close to a...person like yourself?
Brilliant girl is not seeking answers. It is a rhetorical question.

This is meant to really hurt.

Alcohol is my drug. Gin is my bestest friend. Somewhere up there next to God-when I am not venting and telling Him to leave me alone.
And those Black Russians? Man, oh man...Vodka and rum are my comforters. Especially when it seems all my guardian angels are taking a very long and extended break from me. Alcohol helps me deal.
Stella used to. Then she just had to go and die. How so real-life-like. For the one person you allow yourself to be broken with, the one person you can cry with, to die in the year when real life and all its complications start to happen.

I miss you. Always.

There is Celia. But then she works in Nairobi. Convenient right? I should learn to cry over the phone. Except that will be quite frustrating for poor Celia and damaging to my smart phone.
Where on earth is Michael when I need him desperately? What's a woman to do when the very persons who are her warm arms and I-can-be-my-messy-and-currently-weepy-self with people are not within a boda ride's reach?
Said woman turns to alcohol.

My bestest....well. One of...

Dealing is difficult. Dealing is painful. Letting go is exhausting. Moving on sounds so easy when Oprah says it. In real life, moving on first of all requires you get out of bed in the morning. And getting out of bed is the hardest thing to do when you have to move on. There should be a warning manual for the twenties. Life gets foggier, friends get...complex and judgmental, God becomes a disturbingly distant figure and the Bible ceases to make sense.
Snogging people you have no right or business snogging becomes well....very likely.

Dear God.
At what point did life take such a ferociously dramatic turn? How did the aches, pains, sores, wounds pile up without me realising it?Why the hell does my spell check thingie insist on me spelling realise with a z? I am a product of British, NOT American colonialism.
Bloody Americans.
I am a victim-self-made victim of stoicism, facade(ing), first-bornism( that one's on the parents) and the psycho illness a friend described as the God-complex. Saving everyone and pushing me aside until I wake up and realise I have created my own hell.
Shadows don't make for nice company. Aching hearts don't make for easy breathing. Especially if one is an asthmatic. Stoic natures don't make for easy crying. And this does not make for easy dealing.
Because crying doesn't leave bright and sunny spaces in one's heart. It squeezes out a good deal of the pain.
But it leaves despair. Dark, empty and bottomless despair. I am not one for crying. But I think its about time.

Time I took the mask off, rolled aside the thick rock across my heart and cried.
Real, deep, gut-wrenching and heartbreaking sobs. The sort that would send my demons packing. Because my demons are of that nature. The lets-pretend-and-play-fine. They hate emotion.
I think its time. That.I.Cried.
I do not need company please.
Stella's ghost and gin bottle are quite enough.

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."-Hebrews 11:10.

 And in that one verse, the good-intention(ed) apostle Paul went and made faith the most forsaken, challenged and ignored substance of life.
Because faith is the very basis of all things-faith in a better day, true love, totally accepting friendships...faith for the dark in all its forms to finally go away.
How does one expect mortal and fallible beings such as the 6 billion mass of pain-ridden, wound-carrying and fearful human species to have faith enough to last one through the tragedies that most of us call our lives?
In a world of cause-less wars, starving children whose only crime is being born of parents who have failed to master the concept of co-existence, in a country where class-differences are slowly building up enough reason for war, how do you speak to us of faith?
Faith in what? or whom?
A deity that walked away from this place centuries ago? Governments that plunder, loot and then stand by their patriotic albeit hypocritical and clearly-wrong decisions?
Excuse me please.
We might be made in God's image but surely there is a reason God took His own away from this just after 30 years. He should have stayed. Keep encouraging the rest of us mere mortals along.
But what sort of loving parent leaves their beloved son in this forsaken place?
So pardon my cheek God, but when do you plan on coming back for the rest of us? We also are your children.
Right?

Say Paul, ya think you could write letters to this day's peeps?

There is alot to be said for life's happy moments. But in summary; they do not last. Love dies. Or fades away. Or burns you.
Friends leave, friends move, friends die.
I will miss you Yasmin. Come back soon. Please. Please. You're one of my rocks.
Dreams die or take the life out of you as you fight for them.
Men can be real scum-of-the-earth-characters. Not all of them. On this, I will always insist.
Happiness is fleeting. Joy is something we all write about. Way less than all of us actually believe it.
The truth is, it is as elusive as happiness. Pain and hurt are lacking in the etiquette department. They do not call before they show up.
So we smile. We laugh. We kiss and make merry when we can. We grab at our dreams the first chance we get. Because deep down we are painfully aware of this-that this minute's happiness most likely doesn't have any intentions of making it to the next minute.

So this girl turns to alcohol. And mentally challenges the now sainted-and-heaven-residing Paul.
And reaches for her inhaler.
No one said this was going to be easy.

Drunk, achy and...waging war. Mbu.

On Struggles... And Bling.

"The Struggle Continues For Greater Horizons." That was my primary school motto. Kitante Primary School. It does sound quite philosophical. Like the tons of deep phrases out there that make you think the moon is an aim away. Albeit an imaginary aim. I am with Mos Def on this one. No one's really been to the moon. I mean, how would we know? If you're remotely intuitive, you should realize by now that this isn't going to be one of those believe-you-can-and-you-will sessions. It's a very down& low post. This woman is fighting. Against life-as it is right now. The currents have sworn battle, the gods are in the mood to play human chess& I am their current toy-victim. Even fashion is in the mix. I couldn't find my choice of lipstick at any beauty shop all weekend.

So, you said Maureen, right?

In brief, my fists are bunched up, my helmet is on, but I keep bouncing off the walls I'm trying to break. Mostly because the elements of life that are these walls, are made of steel.
Battle Hardened Steel. Meet the forces up in arms against me.

Grain-Sized Faith.
The Good Book tells me that if I should but have the faith of a mustard seed....Right now, I'll be grateful for for pepper seed-sized faith. Yes, to believe is an easy thing. One day, I will afford a cappuccino maker. But to believe when all is falling apart around you, when all that matters the most is crumbling, and not responding to your panicked prayers.
How is one meant to find faith when not even one aspect of one's life has some form of stability? How do you believe in a better day, when each passing day brings more gloom?
How do I believe in a just God when all I see is pain? and anger? The pain of those I only see on TV I can ignore. The pain of those that matter to me shreds my heart to bits.
How do I believe in happy endings when the road to said end is only filled with thorns& more aches? Now would NOT be a good time to mention Cinderella or any character from the Fairy tale neighbourhood. Faith gets you through life's current messy mess. But right now, I am siding with Thomas.
A clear sign from above would be welcome.

So, Hmmm...It is kinda freezing in here...

The Love That Never Comes.
Love is taking her time getting to me. Oh yes, I have semi-experienced love. The mostly-fake, "not meant to last- I know-it -will-lead to-no-good-but, What The Hell??;I am in." That type of love.
If you can call it love. I believe in love. Partly because movies such as "A Walk To Remember" are in existence. Mostly because I believe in God. And more mostly because Amy Lee& Seether went& did that" Broken" song. 
But to the heart of the matter. I have seen more pain, more loss, more tears& more disappointment come out of love& love's assumptions than I have joy, or gladness, or diamond rings. I loveeee diamonds.Yes.
Love has proven to be elusive.

Aim better, Love-god.

I am not desperate, no. But am also not the sort that will settle for anything less than a racing heart, promises of semi-blackout physical unions& a deeply embedded love of God. Plus monogamy.
Especially monogamy. 
So, am stuck here waiting on....something that has only worked against me thus far. I have broken hearts; very knowingly. I have have taken heartless to new levels. In attempts at something akin to love. 
Also, I have been broken. I have died on the inside, hardened on the outside, and had everything in between wither away. 
But I remain hopeful. One day, a certain stranger will smile at me, I shall smile back, and this frost around my heart shall melt. And the fear of hurt will be conquered. With his arms around me. And a big rock for me.

Hellooooo Darling...

                                                                    

Me Has A Dream

And my dream, it is very hazy. Almost like I am actually sleeping& dreaming about what my dream should be like but it is not exactly very clear, mostly because I am actually awake Capiche? Non? Me neither.

That's how dire the situation with my dreams is. Dream actually. I am on the right path-dream wise. I know that for sure. But when the path to my dream(s) gets jammed with a number of nightmares, I...well...I do not. WTH? I get mad. 

Let me tell you how frustrating it is, when having finally put your life's vision in perspective ( you figure out what you're good at, get your behind on the road that will get you to that dream, at least it should point you to the Main Dream Road). And then what you are good at decides it doesn't want to be excelled at any more.
I have failed to write anything for weeks. My favourite music hasn't helped, neither has Maya Angelou. Reading my own blog didn't help much. It just reminded me that my finally-on-the-road dream was slowly burning out. 

Crumpled Dreams

Allow me to point out that writing is what I love best. I need my inspiration source to wake up& realize I die when I can't write. 
Oh, I smile, and laugh. But I die. Because my words are my connection to life's source. Not writing means I'm disconnected from God, somehow. And that drains me in ways no words can aptly describe.
Writing is my life. And I am fighting for dear life right now. 


Blasts From The Past.
The past should be left alone.Mostly because it is over& done with. But more because we cannot go back& change it. Am sure God had a very good reason for this particular plan of action, or rather lack of action.
Say, God, being able to change the past might work for us all. We'd go back& uninvent formal schooling. Look at all the damage; home work, atomic bombs, George Bush...And men would give birth ( I see every female solemnly agreeing)....
But the powers that be didn't think it wise to enable us change our past. You'd think I'd have learnt the reason behind that by now. Nope. Poor, poor God.
My past has become my present. Not in a wise way-thingy. In a," But if I don't find a way to let go really soon, I'll soon be a case study for failure-to-move-on-psycho illness" sort of way.
I want to let go. I want to move on. I want my heart& whatever other organ aches each time I remember the past, to stop hurting. But how do I let go of some one I let so close? How do I let go of the person that made it a point to engrave themselves on to me? How am I supposed to forget everything? Pretend we never were? How do I make my friends see that the reason it gets so hard is not because it was all roses? But precisely because, the thorns were almost non existent? Except the one that took you away.

How do I let go of Stella when I somehow start to talk to her each night? Especially when it all hurts like hell? You think I am weird? I don't know who else I'll allow to see me that way. How do I stop cursing her& being mad at God for taking her away so soon? Just how do you get over the death of one of your soul mates?

I Miss You 'Ella.

The past has become my shadow. It clings to me& sticks to anything that will evoke the semblance of a memory. Blowing old life into new mornings, and further haunting the nights. How do I get over my favourite jeans failure to fit perfectly because they will not make friends with my hip add-ons??
The past.This struggle is hardest.
The fight against time is futile. Unlike dreams, faith and love, there is no story where time succumbs to the pressure of happy endings. Always gets her way. Her way to the future.
"Wounds heal,
Scars remain.
Whether we want to, someday we stop clinging,
And move on."
So, in a post, I am fighting. Against all the elements that seem intent on taking the light out of my eyes. I am fighting because I will not live a life minus my God. Because I will not give up on love, scarred heart be damned. And most of all, because I will not live in the shadows of what could have been. Shadows are dark.
And darkness simply means, life is out the door.

OK. Moving On. To LIFE.

On Death.

Death, he came in
Sneaked in through the door
The windows we had shut firmly, the doors we had bolted,
Death made his way through.

He came in, and said it was time,
That her time was done, that she had to leave.
And we bewildered stood,
Begging for more time,
Pleading that there was still much to do,
Dreams to pursue, sights to see, futures to build

But death, he is not so kind...
He that made his way through bolted doors,
And broke the power of frantic prayers,
Shattered the spells we had sealed with blood.
Death said they had to leave.

Death swept over our hunched bodies,
We that would have given our honor, so she could stay longer,
So he could watch his precious ones grow.
He tore hearts to shreds,and sentenced souls to numbness.

Death, he is not so kind.
He steals from you, robs you of those who matter.
And then he takes you as well, breaking away pieces of you,
Your joy, your soul, the light in your eyes.
Death he came,
And took all of us with him.

All My Women; The Other Half.

The Sisters From Other Mothers.
To label these women friends is becoming increasingly difficult. We are at that point where we have been through all the drama that entails sisterhood, survived it, taken life's shocks and blows, fallen away from one another but somehow managed to find one another once the dust is settled. Let me introduce you to the girls that are my sisters, in every sense of the word.


Yasmin- the bride.

 Yasmin.
aka Maureen. My name sake, semi-enemy turned bosom friend turned sister. We have survived high school drama, University madness and pre-real-life issues. Aside being a mother to the happiest boy on this planet, she happens to be one of the few people on this planet that totally understand me but will still call my bluff. Aside telling me to my face that running from people will only ensure I keep running forever, she is responsible for the highest number of panic calls that I have received my entire adult life. I truly think you are one of the most virtuous women that walk this earth. Mwaaah.



KaRita.

 Ritah.
The prettiest Mutooro I know. Okay, next to her mother. I can honestly say that this is one of the people that gets me best. She is also one of the few people that know quite how much I love my Lord. Friends from 1993, we have carried each others burdens, shared secrets that we'd kill to keep from the world...and then spent hours telling one another we were not the worst beings alive. And now she has found happiness. And I can honestly say no one deserves it more.

Lucie.
My ruuuuvvv...my height mate, my shoe-size-mate...and one of the women that saw me through some of the toughest two years of my life. I Love you truly. Because you know things about me that I would scarcely admit to myself but you never judge me. You are horrible at keeping in touch but amazing at hugs and wiping away tears when they do come. I wish I could be as organized as you are but I know you love me either way. Now, go be the lawyer we both always wanted to be. When I summon the courage one very near day, I shall join you, and reclaim my dream.

The BFFs And The Soul Mates.
Pieces of me. The people that were separated from me when the creator made me. Then sent to me to make my life a little brighter. There's a lot of things I do not have faith in. But I believe in soul mates. Not the romantic sort. The girl-friend sort. And here they are.
Celia.
Thank you for being by me through the suckiest years of high school and looking beyond the facade that was me. Thank you for praying with me through so many nights of despair and anger, and staying my friend when it was a great risk simply to associate with me. Thank you for loving me, even and especially when you do not understand why I do the things I do. You have seen me at my weakest, you have seen me broken and you have seen me rise to the top. You know my sins better than almost anyone but you also know my greatest weaknesses.  And some how you do not judge me.  I know for sure that no one else has seen me cry as much as you have.  You understand my pride but still know how to get through to the heartest of me. I know I tell you all the time but I do love you. For being one of the purest souls I know but still loving some one like me. Diva-ish or not, I still am one of the sinners. I am blessed to know you.

Els

Els.
My dearest cherub. I love you babe. I know quite well that one sentence is enough. You understand just how deep this goes, even without words. And that is the best part. That words are not very necessary with us. Coke is, and so is meat, and so is deep music. And even deeper books. But I have a bestie to whom I do not have to say much to in way of explanations is one of the biggest pluses in my life. Thank you for letting me into your tres cool family, thank you for letting me steal novels from you when you're half way done, thank you for knowing me enough to see when am in pain. Thank you for being mad at men who do not think am super hot. You are the reason I got my writing on track once again, you're the reason I force myself to type when the writer's block pays me a visit. Thank you for bungee jumping with me, for walking with me when our faith was gone. I do not think I'd have made it this far without you. We are two lazy bums but we shall soon have our car& walking shall be no more. Then we'll take all our money and go to an Island where we'll live on coke and beautiful lyrics forever. You can come with him. Leave the kiities at home though.
I heart you immensely. Bisou. Bisou. Bisou.

Mama.
My first best friend, the kindest woman I know, the one I love the most. Also,the one who broke my heart the hardest. The one that enrages me like no other but who understands me above all else, and believes in me, even when my wild dreams do not make any sense to you. If I was wiser, I'd wish to be as kind as you are. But I'm not very wise and I have seen that kindness can be a downfall. And I fear to fall, I am scared of pain. You have nursed me through countless migraines, you have questioned my love of reading and music, and sleeping, and I have broken your heart in so many ways, mostly as a defense mechanism but no else loves me like you do. This I know for sure.
When I'm rich, I will make up for all the hurt you have had to live with, I will buy the world so you can have some sort of real joy, and I will forgive you. Even if I have to force myself to do so.
Most importantly, I will make you proud. I have God by my side. I will conquer the world, then make you queen. I promise.


The Departed.
Stella and Faith. I miss you so much. My soul mate and my friend. My sweetie and my seat mate of four years. That you are not hear today still manages to shock me. You were meant to be here. For ever.
Stella, the plan was to be crazy wild, do what we loved the most and then find love. With you by my side. Now all I have are memories from a school that taught us some of the hardest lessons life had to offer. I miss your art, I miss your beautiful voice. I miss sharing naughty secrets with you. I pray every day, that you are at peace my sweet. I shall see you soon. Real soon. And then we'll catch up on all that's been happening.
P.S- I Miss You.

Faith.
F.... to this day, I do not understand what happened. Some times I'm still in shock that you're not here. Four years of sitting together in class and now...nada, nothing. Oh, I know you are perfectly okay. I know you are happy, but still...I came across one of the notes you wrote me, accompanied by a Plus One Song..You were always on my side. Always. Silently at times, but I knew you had my back. And that got me through the hell hole that school had turned into. I wish we'd had more time to make the friendship deeper. But I had you for 4years. And that made all the difference. Thank You. But, how can you really be gone?
God bless you luv.

I will turn to music and once again, borrow a line. From "Butterfly Kisses";
"In all that I have done wrong, I must have done something right....." Because I truly have& have had the world's greatest women for friends. If I never say this again, you are God's bestest gift to me.
I Love You.

The Facts Of Life ;Part Two.

Life Goes On.
I have lived through extremely dark nights, and very shadowy days. I have had pain live in me to the point that it became a normal acquaintance which I didn't try to chase away.
It was easier that way.
I have carried the pain of those that matter the most to me, cried with them, prayed with them and for them. And have had several of these pleas go unanswered. But still had to get up, dress up& show up.
The world will not stop because your soul mate just died or because the love of your life just became the pain of your life. It will keep keeping on.And you will cry, scream, curse at God..or if you're anything like me, you will let yourself be human and tell a friend that you're falling apart.
But the light will find a way in...Life will go on.
Whether you stay in the past re-living its horrors, or move the heck on, it shall go on.
I will move the heck on. I don't like being behind the program. And this is a temporary one.
Life, that is.

Someone else is In Charge Here.
I went through a long period of mindless torture that I lost my faith for a long time. It helped that my BFF was in the same boat.We figured we wouldn't be puppets to a cynical creator any longer.
So we set sail, alone. With the most amazing of friends by us, but without faith in a higher power. And we made it. It was tough but we endured.
And then I think about it now and I realize He never left. We walked, but He'd given us each other. He made sure we were safe. He couldn't force His stay so He found a way to remind us that it is never that bad.
Life can be crappy. Scratch that.
Life gets shitty. On this side of the galaxy, anyway.
Nothing is certain.We're on borrowed time. We're leaving this place at different times...there are tougher times ahead.
I admit it scares me to bits to not be totally in charge of the future. I have buried two friends...
Stella and Faith..Have a peaceful rest...and be happy. You messed up a lot of people, though. Yes, I am one of them.
That took the life out of me in ways only my bedroom floor can comprehend. It absorbed all the tears from my collapsed body...my pillow still suffers wet& drenched nights...Life can take the life out of you.
And to trust a power which doesn't consult you before wrecking havoc in your life is almost impossible. But it keeps hope alive. And on the cruel days, Hope can mean the difference between giving up and the next step.
And the next step always means a new start.
Someone mightier is in charge here. That's all I need to know.

Incredibly Cool-U2.

Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own.
First& foremost, I would like to thank the incredibly amazing and popular rock band,U2, for coming up with the phrase that's the title to this paragraph. One line is all I can use to credit them though. I prefer my attention undivided.
To the point. This life that we have been blessed with can on countless occasions get taxing. In a really irritating way, if the mode of stress that day happens to be the tasteless pick up line of say, a market vendor.Mbu, "size yange..."
Or the endless on-hold customer care call to these telecom companies.."Please Hold... followed by...boring tone..."
On the bad, bad days, events will fall apart like a Chinese made Iphone. And as much as you will it to, the ground shall not open up to swallow you. And to top it off, sleep shall evade you. But these moments have solutions;

Just pluck out that green...thingy..

• Prayer; Words, hymns, mysteries.Or novenas. All accord some sort of peace.
• Food; Has to be really oily, creamy,sugary or meaty to achieve the desired effect. Dodo will only depress you more. So shall matooke. 
• Music; I prefer the rock genre, but Bieber 
• seems to work for some people. So does P-Square. Miley Cyrus has moved people from depression to insanity. Her voice should be labeled as potentially life threatening. Especially when she speaks. That is lethal. And that is not a compliment.

ALCOHOL; I would like to state with ALL certainty that alcohol is the best antidote to depressing days. It makes you silly-happy, then some how gets it into your head that you can pull off all the dance strokes from the latest, funkiest video.That you look more spirit-possessed than groovy shall not matter to you. Alcohol boosts self esteem.

• Then it causes you to fall into a deep slumber, leading to a morning with no recollection of the previous night's activities. Alcohol helps you forget.
• But if your mind manages to drag up any last-night memories, worry not. Alcohol shall present you with a hangover so bad...&all associated symptoms such as blinding headaches,you will not have the energy to nurse remorse. 
• Alcohol has amazing powers. It is one of my super powers.
• To Gin and Tonic. I owe you several.

I came into this world to live out L.O.U.D.