Dear diary. My journey’s end.

Dear diary, 
I pen down the notes of my follies and my heroic moments.  A recollection of a jouney that is just about to come to an end. The orgasm that once came with the freedom now threatens my sanity, with a question of what lies ahead im my path. A new journey is about to begin, yet it still is unclear what fate holds ahead. I pen down the decisions of a transiting naive girl, who came in a teenager, and now almost departs,  a full grown woman who knows not what a life holds ahead.

 
 
 
The life most of us face once we join our dream institutions of higher education to do courses that we hope will change our fates often begins as a straight road but soon diverts into a million roads and without knowing right or wrong, we often follow the wrong path. 

Broken pots can be fixed with gold

Dear Diary
Drugs, parties, and sex. Those are a wrapped early funeral gift that come with the freedom. Topics that the weak at heart find a tabboo. The best the elders will tell you is; never let a boy see your panties. It is bad manners.  But no, they never tell you the pain you feel when your virtue is stolen from the palm of your hands without consent. Worse still, they do not tell you of the sweetness of the forbidden fruit. There is that point of no return where all you want to do is dip your greedy hands into the jar and help yourself to more honey. But just like an oversized child the guilt that comes with the pleasure often overwhelms the soul and drains ones spirit.  You die inside as you wait for the physical ending; where you never will feel shame or guilt. 

Dear Diary.
For a fraction of a second, I felt like my choices were right. All the cards fit, my future would be complete. Staring back at little Mr. Perfect, I realize he played a game I wasn’t mastered enough to win. Well for a while there, it felt like I had all the cards at the palm of my hands. However, with the mirage of our future, I put my dreams on hold. Stopped applications for a passport with hopes of furthering my studies abroad. Despite the happiness, I noticed I was a convinience. Wanted but not needed. That stung worse than a slap. I gained the strength i needed to walk away. The journey was lonely and cold, but it was worth it.
In my pain, I turned to ink on my skin. A reminder of all all the pain I felt within. I look at my tattoos and remember, this too shall pass. I know I will never trust again. My heart is mine to treasure and hold. For if I let games be played anymore, I my never pen again.
 

He plays you for a fool girl, says all the things he knows you want to hear, then pounces and feeds on his prey before scouting his next target.  At first it hurts, and you hide behind alcohol, movies and fantasies. It doesnt kill the pain or fill the vacuum, it only expands the dark hole. But then,  you discover the church. A sanctuary where you can hide in. You no longer know if your intent is to worship, or to hide in His presence and seek some solace from your disoriented mind.

Dear Diary.
The church, it always the turning point, a chance for a new beginning.  For a moment there, they will call you a hypocrite. Your former life will fail to match the new you. The society will always have a word to say though, so go ahead with all that makes you happy. 
We run to the church because we realize, friends never last forever, and finding a real one in a million is like trying to hold on to vapour. Friends come and go, they are around for convinience, and run away when the heat becomes too much. Sucks, but its a life’s lesson.

Dear diary
Its my final journey.  Came in at eighteen, now leaving at twenty one. I see light at the end of the tunnel. I dont know if its the sunshine after my storm from my self-caused mistakes, or if it is a train that will knock me down to my final journey.  My questions, or at least most, remain unanswered. It comes with the territory of being confused and hopeless. The curse!!! 

Dear diary
Probably this is my final letter concerning my life. I came in with no experience in how one juggles work, church, fun and relationships, now, am reaping the fruits of my mistakes, trying to pick up the broken pieces. I came in without scratches, but I leave with a lot of lessons.
Ladies, gents alike; the freedom we gain in school, its not a chance to explore on sex and drugs. It is a moment to realize how tough life gets when we make no plans for the future. We no longer are children, we owe it to our future to get responsible. Sex is not a sport that will always put food on your table, someday you will grow old, and without savings or investments,  you become another wasted soul that had brains they did not use. 

When it comes to playing, lets leave it to sports in the field. Hearts are too fragile to be thrown around and kicked with balls. You mess around with so many hearts in an aim to prove your manhood to your peers, but for every tear shed, your generation will pay a price.

Last but not least, talk about it, share your story, touch a soul somewhere. For whatever you think you face alone, some other soul faces too. Talking cam save us from premature death. Talking frees our souls from the poison that builds within when we hide.  Let it out. Until one day you can tell your story with a smile on your face.

Goodnight diary. Tell that little boy this freedom will not last. 

#diary of a broken soul. 

Licking old wounds

The letter at his desk three months ago brought his walls crumbling. Being a new graduate with a first class honors at the top of his class, he knew he had made it in life. His superiors did not know as much as he did. No, they were controlling freaks, who did not even go to the university. He had been warned thrice about his behavior, they had finally let him go. Today, his girlfriend had packed her bags and left him. She could not handle a man who could not accept his mistakes and work on being better. She had no future with an alcoholic. He was a laughing stock in the society, often slept on verandahs after passing out from binge drinking. He felt as if the whole would was against him. Nursing his bottle in the dimly lit chang’aa den, he wondered for a second- maybe she was right. Was he simply licking old wounds instead of moving on? For once he contemplated picking himself up and giving his destiny another shot.

A mile away, the former choir mistress of their local church was feeling nostalgic about the good old days in the church choir where she led worship and people were moved, floors shook, souls were saved. But damn that youth pastor! He had been so convincing, she wanted to save herself for marriage, but with his conniving tongue, had managed to make her question the need to wait yet they were bound to be together. He did no less to lessen her fantasies. Three months later, after being kicked out of church, having been caught in bed with a married man who was the youth pastor, she could not face her peers without feeling ashamed. She was accused of seducing the pastor with her provocative long dresses, there was no way the man of God approached her first. However, despite the shame, she asked for forgiveness from God, and slowly, she was learning to forgive herself, she hoped one day she would be forgiven by all who found her to be the devil’s spawn. Her life had moved on. She had accepted her fate and moved on to the next journey in life.

I define licking old wounds as a situation where we wallow in misery and self-pity over situations that have occurred in our lives that we could not control. These are defining moments that often break us, if we are not careful. We are soaked in self-doubt and constantly worry about what others say. We lock ourselves within for fear of facing hard truths, or what lies ahead. We simply have no strength to pick ourselves up.
Licking old wounds is a hobby most people pick up when faced with unexpected and devastating situations especially those they consider they brought on themselves. It involves constantly looking into the past on where things went wrong, blaming ourselves, and when we can’t handle the truth look for other people to blame. We then focus more on analyzing the past instead of picking ourselves up and giving life another shot. Licking old wounds can be a comfortable zone to be in. You do not need to face the consequences of your actions, because you lock yourself indoors, or travel far away from your reality and wallow in our own misery. We constantly focus on the past, on the mistakes, and on what we could have done different if we had the chance. The problem with looking at the past is we waste a lot of time on things that do not matter instead of trying to move forward.

We do it all the time. When we fail in our exams, when we are expelled, when we lose a deal at work, when we lose a case. The society is filled with so many expectations, that if we do not supersede what is expected of us, we are considered failures. The sad part about it is that we believe it and we focus so much on what we did wrong, that we forget the best part about life is all the memories we make will only be lessons if we let go and let God.

As we begin a new month, my advice to you is; we all make mistakes at some point in life, however, what makes us different is our ability to accept that we did wrong and move on. People will always judge, criticize, ridicule and mock you every time you fall. You need to realize, your life is yours alone, it is you who will decide to remain in the past or move on.

Accept your errors, seek forgiveness if you need to- from God, from yourself and from people you feel you have wronged. Also find spiritual healing. At times we smile and say we are okay yet deep within we are crumbling. Unless you heal the pain that seeps through your soul within, you will constantly be trying to convince yourself that you are okay when you clearly know you are not okay.

Last but not least, stop licking those old wounds; Rise up and walk



When a baby is born, they are thrown into a new hostile world, where they know not what to expect. They analyze who to befriend, and who they find an enemy. They don’t just let anyone in- be selective on who you open up to in your recovery journey. Then reaches a point where their legs itch and want to move, it’s a new territory, while others start crawling, others hold back a little because it is a scary experience, but they later do it. Same to talking, or when their teeth start growing.


Point is, instead of licking old wounds, or being comfortable in a zone, we can embrace change and work on ourselves. Rising up is more important than licking those wounds. Taking a leap of faith and rising up makes that baby walk. Rising up lets you take charge of your destiny.