DEAD INSIDE.

I’m angry at her friends who miss it.

She smiles, she laughs, she’s full of life but if they took the time to look a bit closer or hang around for an extra second, they would see the laugh turn into a silent sob, the smile give in to a despair she’s used to.

She’s not a good pretender, her friends just don’t see.

They ask;

“How are you?”

“How are you doing?”

“How’s life?”

But few hang around for the answer.

Most of her friends would be horrified by how she chooses to cope, if they knew, they would judge her.

She attends Bible study and on the way home she calls her dealer to pick up her weekly stash of weed.

She’s dead inside.

PARADISE LOST: RUTURO.


The road is almost done,
On her a single flat,
On each side a slum,
A bit further a church,
Red soil turns black,
They are squatters on a land,
They lose the race to time,
Every hut will be a flat.

When I came to this place, I was seeking an escape.
I wanted to shut the big doors of life and only see the beauty of the small windows I opened.
Prior to this I was a part of the “human race”, ever running without really breasting the tape.
City life was fast; too much focus was on the destination that I never really enjoyed any journey I took.
I was surrounded by strangers, but the thin concrete walls separating us compelled me to call them friends.
At this pace I was sure of death without knowing if I had lived.
I should have discovered this place earlier, but in my haste to get to places I didn’t need to, I never stopped to admire the beautiful irony Ruturo displayed.
This place is frozen in time; women still wash clothes by the river.
Boys still swim naked in the nearby pond.
Men still sit on stones facing the sun discussing everyday happenings.
Every now and then I see a few trucks pass; there is some construction here and some construction there.
Modernity is slowly eating away this paradise.
Soon, it will be another concrete jungle.

ANOTHER GIRL WITH DADDY ISSUES.


Let’s imagine children had the opportunity of rating their fathers out of 10, my father would be in the negatives.
Having a father has done me more harm than good.
It’s a harsh thing to say but it is true.
It would be hard for me to list just three good things my father said to me.
For a good memory with my father, I would have to search the dark corners of my mind.
You score lower on the father scale when you fail both as a husband and as a father.
A terrible husband can be a good father, that gets you from the negatives.
A good husband can be a terrible father, at least someone is happy.
My dad was a terrible husband and a terrible father.
In the movies, fathers change, in real life they rarely do.
My father is still the same, in the constant state of failing both as a husband and as a father.
Funny enough, I don’t hate my father; my father does not qualify to be hated.
When a father is absent and distant, it has an effect on the children, especially daughters.
May be I’m looking for his approval in the men I date.
May be I’m looking for his love in older men.
May be I expect every man to walk away just like he did or maybe I feel sorry for him because he had no clue what being a father was all about, or maybe I just don’t care.
I have a FATHER and I pray He meets my father only then will he be a father. I love you dad!

To Absent Father,
From Present Daughter.

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