The Sufferings of a Modern Man 1

I suffer from a deep-rooted identity crisis. I’d like to believe most guys do. I know really the only reason I’d like to believe this is because I wouldn’t want to be suffering alone. But everywhere I look people seem to be handling their lives with grave. Their traumas with a skip in their steps. Very few I see struggling outwardly; something I try my best to not do; and think how I could be better friends with those that admit their short comings like myself. Someone I can easily talk about how I lost my virginity to the house help at a young age. Maybe that opening is what I need. I know I am not alone because some have the courage to say it sober. Writing about this cripples my fingers so I’d rather admit to it happening in passing and continuing along with this void that is life.

Relationships. Something I can attest to struggling with. Building human intimacy. I noticed this some time ago. To be honest it would be a lie to say I’ve tried working on that. So I won’t lie. This article embodies my sober honesty. And if you do read this and happen to know me personally. Don’t do it. I’m ok. Back to relationships, I need to sit down with cupid and discuss what he put me through in my past before I let go of the armour I have masterly fitted around my emotions. I know he’s not alone to blame, but I believe I’ve beaten up myself too much already. I’ve come to peace with my stupidity. As of cupid. I need us to have a sit down discussion over a hearty meal of mbambaira pasina tea or juice. At each lie he tells oruma. And only when he’s ready to tell the truth tea is given. There’s only soo much character development I can go through, can’t be getting eternal scars from everyone I’m made to believe to be the one for me.

No one tells you how lonely life is

I can admit I have very bad days. Days where I want nothing to do with people. With the blanket as my only cover from the harsh winds of this world. My mind is as fractured as it gets. I was dealt all 7s and 2s. I’m a broke college student, I’m not good looking(not even half of this). So finding someone is already a mammoth task. I’m human It defeats me. And on my bad days, I sit in the shadows thinking if my character is enough. How many books I’d have to read, how many articles. How to be articulate. Maybe enunciating my words in a certain way would increase my value as a human? I’m plagued with much worse questions, and whenever I get time to write some of the complex emotions I face.

If I were a book, I wouldn’t know what will be on the cover I would have, but this, this is just the blank page in what is an encyclopaedia of my emotions.

If the world were a rose,
Hate would be the bright red in its petals.
Life would be the stem.
With pieces of peace, happiness
And a whole load of pain.

R