The first I knew.

But of course there was no way I could have happened just like that, you were the first man I knew. At least for a little while.. well. I want to say something about you, maybe many things or even nothing at all. It just depends on how much my spirit can manage . You see, every time I have spoken about you I noticed that I am hardly moved. But sometimes, I could cry a bucketful if I didn’t stop before the next detail. I am not sure why, but I guess It’s because there were some lovely things about you despite the hurtful ones..and maybe I have a hope that you still think of me as important. You’re so much alive, although very much alone. I can’t seem to figure out why you took to loneliness and I’m sure that is not something I will know as long as I live, seeing as you have succeeded in remaining discreet. What I don’t understand is why you won’t see me, why you won’t show me that you still love me as you always say.. I keep thinking what it is that I did wrong. Yes, at this point am only speaking for myself. Well, in the movies, kids always blame themselves for grown upsmesses even when they didn’t even have a follicle to do with it. But well, I could be anything but dumb. Maybe I had something to do with it, ofcourse with the rest of us. I feel so much that you went against what u taught. But whatever the case, we were supposed to stick together through the fog and stuff. I wanted to know what it felt like to talk about you to a friend, or even someone special. To know how it felt to listen to words of advise from your wise brains. To know what your point of view sounded like.

Father+daughter+black+family

Forget feelings, I thought you were doing all you could to make me happy. Not just me, but you know who else. That night…the night beside my bed when you didn’t just shed tears, but wept for God to do something. You didn’t know I was awake, but I was and i heard everything..it’s been our little secret because I wanted to see for myself if you really meant what you said, if those tears were anything. I started to think that maybe God didn’t give you what you asked…something like He abandoned you. But you see, that was no reason to abandon me either…two wrongs, as the old adage suggests, do not make a right. But you didn’t know that. You also didn’t know that even though God was your shoulder but made you feel like He left, you were supposed to be mine, but you just walked off and left my head hanging. Hanging with pain, confusion, disillusionment and everything that comes with abandonment except ANGER. Yes, I have failed to be angry at you. Not that I had forgiven you by then, (now I have) but I just couldn’t be angry. I thought you were coming back for me, that you had this very solid reason that would make me cry so hard with forgiveness when you came back for me. I thought all that until I chose to wake up. I chose to accept my fate and tell myself that you will not come for me. That you don’t want me anymore,.that I am the reason you left because you were too weak to carry my imperfections, too sorry to face me with the truth that you felt inadequate and unworthy to be loved by me, but yet I do. I don’t know how true this is, but they say if you love someone, you let them go (most probably if you’re the danger itself..otherwise you stick with those you love, like white on rice or skin on flesh, whatever) so if that’s what you were trying to do, I had the right to know still. I love you even then. That even when you come back, if ever you will, I shall run and cry on my pillow after whatever you will have as a reason for letting me go. Did I mention that at some point in my life I often try to remember what you look like? It is until I rummage through the old boxes for a picture of you..although from what I gather, you have had your share of days. Yes. I always forget what you look like..it’s as though you never happened to me, or like you came and blew past like the breeze here from the lake on a hot afternoon that leaves you wanting for as long as the sun still scorches. I keep visualizing my special day. That day when you’re supposed to take my arm through those doors, down the aisle to say my I dos to one who I fear you shall not meet. But I can also clearly see you standing me up again for the millionth time.

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8 thoughts on “The first I knew.”

  1. You wrote this on my father’s birthday, strange…that is the first thing I noticed, it has been almost 16 years and I still celebrate his birthday. the paternal wound, it can be serious but it also heals, thank God

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