Unwritten

Who knows how long this will last
Now we’ve come so far, so fast

But, somewhere back there in the dust
That same small town in each of us
I need to remember this
So baby give me just one kiss
And let me take a long last look
Before we say good bye
Just lay your head back on the ground
And let your hair fall all around me
Offer up your best defence
But this is the end
This is the end of the innocence

Don Henley: End of Innocence

You do not make it easier by writing to tell me how much you miss me, or how much you loved spending the weekend talking to a person of my calibre – which I would normally frown at, seeing as I would wanna question your ‘present and continuous’ taste in the human species, and you would counter-frown at my ‘always taking words and statements and twisting them all ways to Monday, which I might mention that it is Thursday, and you would say you didn’t mean that literally, and I would say that I was pulling your chain, and you would probably just laugh at me and say you know, and then I would say something to the effect that that did not negate the fact that I am still questioning your choice of people with limited or no sense of humour and/or limited HQ (Human Quotient, alphabetically speaking, of course), and you would counter that I do not know your friends, and I would say that you keep the company of people who are closest to you in need or deed, or something that rhymes or doesn’t make sense like that, so I can complete said statement, and you would say I am making things up as I go along, and I would say I always did, but you should not dismiss it as a digress, and you would mention that I am too smart for my boots, and I would invite you to look at said boots to ascertain whether they were smarter than I am, and then you would say something to the effect that they may not have been polished to a ‘spit shine military precision’, which would in itself ‘pique my interest’ in the sense that I love everything Military, and would probably start engaging you in military speak, but would be piqued at your ‘properness’ and I would probably mention the fact that you are so ‘English’, and you would counter that, although we are Londoners at heart, we chose to be where we are when we are, and I would start some sort of protest, and you would quell my protests with the one word ….

Princess

Therein lies the problem:

Therein begins the end of innocence

You tell me to write, about our story. I wish I could. Actually I can. It is long, it is hard. We have been through the mill and came out alive. Together. I have a few broken hearts attached to my name. I did have a broken heart attached to ‘our name’.

The way you look at me, no one else ever did. I feel under scrutiny just being with you. You know every ‘nook and cranny’ of my being. You excel at looking at me, I shy away from you gaze. You are beautiful, I told you this a million years ago. I cannot believe that you ‘chose’ me. You cannot believe that I ‘chose’ you. We both agree we are not perfect, but you, you exemplify ‘perfection’, and you say that about me.

We got here, we both agree to let go. Free ourselves so other people can love us as much as we love each other. It isn’t fair on anyone that we both cling to each other even when we know we cannot be perfect together. Because being together is exacerbating our scrutiny of our imperfections.

I piss you off by being simply complex. You marvel at how my brain works, how I can see things that other people cant. You tell me ‘I can do anything’ I want. I agree. You piss me off because you are too easy to read. And you are a flirt. Funny how I am okay with you dating someone else, and pissed off when I am with you and you flirt with someone else. Is it because I know that the person you are with hasn’t ‘got you’, but the person you are flirting with ‘can’?

Everyone loves you, everyone. Including my own Mother. And that, is, to say something. No one can believe that I let you go, countless times, over and over. Including this time.

I feel like I am going against the wind. I am free-falling. I want to still have you as my harness, the one person that will always be there to catch me when I fall. But I cut the rope, didn’t I? I set myself free. And I am like a ‘canon ball’, going to fall straight out into the abyss? No? You tell me you will always love me, be there for me for EVER, as long as I need you, you will be on the other end of the phone, will travel the world for me, will do anything.

But, like you always said, I need to be ‘free’ to spread my wings. I cannot be held, cannot be owned, cannot be boxed, cannot be tied to anything. I need to be free to ‘breathe’. You cannot wait to see what I will do when I choose to do it. And you will be there cheering me on. You will be there circling my ear, telling me how proud you are of me. The one you made into a woman, the one that now makes you wonder what you ‘unleashed’, although you claim that that was not your doing, that it was all there to begin with, just needed the right person to ‘unleash’ it. I beg to differ.

I do not know anyone that worries about me as much as you do. Not even myself. Even when I was in .KE you were ready to commandeer ‘The Jet’ to come pick me up cos you were worried I might be in danger. Actually you were mighty terrified. I laughed and said there were a couple of millions of people living here that were in the same predicament, minus they did not have an ex-boyfriend with a family jet at hand to pick them up and out of the country. Your answer: I do not Love a couple of million Kenyans, I love you. I was rather pissed off too that you would ‘rendition’ my ass because ‘my’ country was going through some tough times. It was my decision to stay or leave, and I chose when to do that. I pay my way when and if I can, and ‘piggy-backing on ‘your family’’ doesn’t qualify. I asked you to call off ‘the family’, and you understood and said I was too proud for my own good. I know that. I wish I wasn’t.

I wish I am just a regular walking talking head with a body, a modicum of decency in the brain department, and a ---- ok, I would hate being a regular walking talking human. It would suck. That would. Really. I love that I am whom I am. And I know that that might be a little overwhelming to someone who craves simplicity. I crave simplicity too. But I did learn at a very early age that I wasn’t gonna get it. So I just make things up as I go along. I tried talking to you about ‘my not being able to acquire simplicity’ between the bread and the prawns (you will have to kill me first, before I call them Shrimp, it reminds me of ‘run, Forrest, run), and that would defeat the purpose in the first place, now, wouldn’t it?) Did I mention that you ‘made’ me eat Prawns for the first time way back when in London?), but you did not ‘get it’. I do not blame you, perhaps that whole ‘higher understanding’ thing is overrated. I do not know. All I know is, apart from Dad, I am always literally talking to myself.

Which is where you let me go. Mainly because you think I ‘deserve’ someone who will put me on that pedestal, and look at me all day. And when they are done looking, they will never let anyone else even so much as take a peek. In the meantime, they need to let me do whatever, whenever, wherever in the world, however, with whomever. And remember, that they can never own me. I belong to the world. I belong in nature. I am nature. But at the same time, I can always come back to them when I am done ‘doing my bit’. You cannot wait that long. To be honest, you cannot wait. Period.

You say that if someone so much as ‘looks at me’ the wrong way, I should let you know. You can walk over to them and kick their asses till next summer. Better yet, you have connections. I believe you. Trust me I have names, oh, and addresses. I am resourceful like that. But I need to ‘curve’ my way out of heartaches and disappointments. I am grown now. How can I not be? I always had you looking at me, I was under scrutiny, I was levelly gazing at your gaze, wondering what those eyes were seeing. ‘If I could see me through your eyes’ (our first dance song, way back when, reversed?). I am still asking myself what it is that makes you chose to be so ‘possessive’ of me, when you can have any woman in the whole wide world (and their mothers, and aunties, and cousins twice removed or something). Remember how we used to muse over how ‘if the rest of the world did not feel like this when they were ‘making love’ then there is a lot of ‘wastage’ out there. And then laugh? Well, I am still of the same opinion. Wastage? Such a waste :(

It is unfair to people that we ‘Love’ (gleefully feeling quite shy over this one), but the whole ‘I cannot sleep, for thinking about you’, and ‘I will always be there for you no matter what, just wondering if you are asleep’ kind of talk will get us nowhere. You asked me to be patient. I am. Just wondering if you practice what you preach.

I will be ok, I promise. I also promise I will not get with someone who will try to clip my wings. Yes I know, I always let people think they have, then they wake up one day and wonder WTF? I promise to practice patience, love, ..er… patience, restraint, patience, how to blend in, patience, write Check without the Que, and not Queue while getting in line, stay offline (*pouting* how the heck am I supposed to … ) give some dude a chance to get to know the G without working too hard (fat chance, that), learn my right from my left, I am still giggling at the second thing you said to me after you picked me up (the first thing being: Damn, you are beautiful.) – that ‘For a person with your level of IQ, I am surprised that after all these years you never bothered to really learn your left from your right. My answer: Well, I am also surprised that, being quite capable of knowing their left from their right, the rest of the world havent leant half the things that I can do without a single thought. And they have had millions of years (apparently) to learn it.

Touché, No?

He said I should write a story – there are pages and pages of this – just not for general consumption, yet.

The rest is, as ‘they’ say, Unwritten.

AOB: At least 20 hrs early, but 'Happy Birthday' to YOU *pointing in the general direction of where you are, which accordingly, is the wrong direction, of course, seeing as I cannot tell left from right, how in the hell am I supposed to know my North from South and other degrees removed therein, huh?