I have been through the hustle of not being first choice on very many instances, that for a while it began to feel like home. For one reason or another there always has to be a better person or a more worthwhile endeavor that in more instances than one, involves someone that is not me. Back in primary school I had an unspoken love/crush thing going on with a certain boy. Unspoken because he sat across the room from me and everyday he would look my way and just smile at me. My tiny virgin heart would melt as if exposed to some buttery sunshine, then I’d smile back. We never really talked, you know, verbally, but we DID talk, smilingly and to me that was marked territory. My marked territory. I had the deal sealed tight and safe. I was happy, and I was the envy of many.
[Quick side question to those that just don’t get the concept of marked territory. So you’ve come across my bobby pins, bra and a Kortex box half-full. There’s also three pairs of my heels on his shoe rack, my flowery towel in his bathroom and my clothes in his closet. Wotchu still doing in his house woman? I’ll tell you what. Waiting for the angel of death! Coz I ain’t gon spare you when I catch you there! Na-ah!]
One (fateful) day a new girl walked into our class and that was the end of my smiley bliss. She became the new recipient to the smiles that were mine and he never looked at me ever again, except for that one time when some idiot pulled my chair away just as I sat and I fell legs up. I moved on, many wet pillows later, and I hit it off with another boy. Nigga got me hooked with a couple of Jimw@t’s lines that went something like this,
“reverse psychology, mwambie kitu haezi fanya
na mi naku-like
so tuna likiana
si una psyche
na mi nina psyche
so, tunaeza anza ku___”
and then dumped me for my best friend. I never really got to know why. I mean I replied to his tiny notes in class as soon as I received them, like the perfect girlfriend, plus my face was yet to be pimple-infested and my breasts weren’t as perky and annoyingly pointy as most of the girls in our class. I never did anything wrong in my opinion. Simply put, the boy was a thirsty bastard, the girl a back-stabbing conniving bitch. They deserved each other.
Anyway, since then I have Continue reading