My David.

If I could, I would sit MaryJane down and tell her point blank, ” No, he is not the one for you. Stop it, stop it, stop!!! You deserve so much better a man. You deserve love! ”
Okay, that’s straight outta the movies, let me start again, “MaryJane, you are a flawed human being and you dont deserve heaven because it is not like you also don’t have a million faults that led to your break up with David but you deserve a ‘not David’. Here’s why, love isn’t malicious, it doesn’t move in with the next woman to get back at you. Love isn’t supposed to hurt that bad. Love shouldn’t drive you to such levels of desperation-you stole his sperms, really? Love is wholesome, I think it should fill you up not dry you out…okay, sometimes it dries you out but only to fill you up, it fills you more than it dries you.Love cares. Love is honest all this weird manenos, me I don’t get so just forget forget forget leave leave leave run run be be be. You can cry but don’t do it at his new mama’s place just do it in the pillow or here with your girlfriend, okay? And no don’t do it on his WhatsApp with smileys!” …and I would go on and on and on and tell her all about the bends, colours and faults of the twig in her eye and all the while miss the log in my own.
Now, it is clarification time. Yes, I binge-watched another series, yet again and trans-nighting has never been easier. At 8:00 a.m. i.e. by the end of Season 2 of ‘Being MaryJane’ I had become so acutely aware of the log in my own eye…okay Chebet quit with the metaphors, I had become so painfully aware of my wrong responses to the David in my life.(Note: David in this context refers to a complex of sorts )
Here’s what I am talking about:One day I am all “Yeah, am done, am gone, am over him, am over us and am even erasing all the texts/promises I still have crammed in my head…” and the next I be like,” Oh my! He is so sweet and he is the perfect gentleman and I don’t think it is ever going to get better than this and maybe I should make it work just one more time.” Then family/friends come into the picture, now these people could literally kill David because they’ve been with me through the lows when I plucked out my eyes for this guy and I am there with ‘love’s’ short memory trying to be all teflon/titanium/rideordie wharefas and they just tell me as it is-plainly and blankly-” This guy just daen’t love you, hakupendi! Hakupendi!Hakupendi! HASHANA NAYE!” Those words obviously pierce and I cry and so they start pulling out ultimatums like “Chebet, it is us or him.” Yes, the struggs are real but I choose them but get depressed so one of the family/friends, mostly one who has had a David somewhere tells you that maybe you are right to follow your heart and you should still love shamelessly and even though you should let a bird go so that it comes back if it’s really yours, sometimes you could lure it back with some bread crumbs or sometimes it has just lost its sense of self and it doesn’t know if it is really yours so you must remind it. Following that advice, the one I wanted to hear all the while, I do the breadcrumbs trick and the hurt continues.
Then I watch Being MaryJane and I see myself. Sometimes the twigs in people’s eyes help you see your own and I realise that this is really just a vicious cycle. A never-ending cycle of removing the scabs of a wound that wants to heal so I am done scribbling on halfway or quarter-way written leaves. Am done glancing on my side mirrors, on my could-have-beens and should-have-beens. I am sitting my MaryJane self down and telling her that there’s a lot of love, a lot more than she could ever imagine…and it is all waiting and a chunk of it is really from within. Yes from within, from within the chambers of self. Now watch me write on my new leaf and see you, you who will not only make my cells dance but find me sure of it.

Standing undefeated...

Courage, dear heart, courage.
To the cells-dance-maker wherever you are...