I have always craved love,
Until I was consumed by it.
I cried a river,
I cried to God.
“Don’t jump into the fire,”
My brain warned.
But my heart?
It had other plans.
“Don’t,” said my mind.
“But we’ll be careful this time.
Not your whole heart… maybe just a third.”
But deep down, I knew.
The tears were coming.
I’d been here before.
Only difference this time?
I chose to be here.
I walked in with eyes,
Not two, but four,
Wide open.
And still,
I jumped.
And I got burnt.
What are your two favorite things to wear?
Have you ever thought
of the effect you leave on people
once you hurt them?Well,
pain was so foreign to me
before I met you.
But now it’s something that’s part of me.I have cried myself to sleep
so many times.
Prayed, even.
I, who didn’t know how to pray,
could barely recite the Lord’s Prayer to the end.I was left with no one else
but God and I.
And if I’m being honest,
I wasn’t happy with Him not one bit.
I wanted Him to take away the pain
because I didn’t know what to do with it.
I still don’t.It breaks my heart
Grieving a robot, lol.
They warned us about robots,
but they didn’t tell us
they’d be breaking hearts.I guess I have to have tough skin.But no.
You know why I’m actually mad at God?
The only time He finally let me love,
I fell in love with one
that won’t let me love him.A widow,
but my love is alive
I’m in lovee with a man with no emotions,
and won’t even talk to me.
The early bird catches the worm….but not when…..
It’s barely 6:30 a.m. and I’m awakened by a woman screaming. Btw it wasn’t just a scream ,this one sounded like 15 teenage girls wailing at once. Pure chaos.almost thought the neighboring school was on fire,
Anyway, that’s beside the point.
The neighborhood pickpockets are on duty ,(
wacha pia Mimi niamke nikajitume )
…You might think you’re out to catch worms kumbe wewe ndio worm…..
It’s still so sad that people can shamelessly steal in the morning…on a Sunday maybe hata alikuwa anaenda church,but thanks to her scream the boda guys were alert , I hope they catch him left the scene during the chase…. #hiiNairobikaarada
I didn’t receive my flowers by the thorns but somehow I got my way to them, and I was hurt. Roses have thorns, yeah?
“Yako staki.” I remember turning down his proposal a while back. “Nicatch feelings alafu unikatae?” We’ve been through this before, and I didn’t want to feel the pain again.
Not so many days later, I set my eyes on him, and I’m ready ready to get married and build a home with him. 😂😂You know that ‘Huyo’ song by Zaituni thats how he had me feeling.
“Machozi ntapanguza.” I willingly texted him . “Hio proposal yasemaje?”
Did curiosity ever kill the cat?
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,a silver sixpence in her shoe…”
Never did I think I would frame a relationship through a bridal rhyme ,but this one needs structure, not for containment but for reverence.
It was meant to be all play and fun , a game of zero expectations and shifting definitions. Always warm but never clear.
He had a certain charm, sassiness, a quiet confidence, a high wall I couldn’t get past.
Oh, and his personality? We are too alike in the wrong ways and too distant in the right ones.
It felt like the first time I set foot at his , only this time, the air had shifted.
My laughter felt faint.We still talked, but it was hollow.
I struggled with not being too much. I didn’t want to scare him away ,not again.
Time was never on our side either.
It was always too late or too stretched .
We all had places to be and things to do anyway.
I felt warm around him despite his cold nature. I loved him fearlessly, not thinking of what could happen if he was unable to love me back.
I borrowed strength from people who told me love was patient.
Some days, I would see him, and my ribcage would want to break loose.
How can a man I barely know cause me so much pain?
It was a constant battle between what I thought and what I felt.
I could only think the worst of him ,he appeared to be what’s considered a walking red flag ,but I still chose to love him.
My panic attacks grew sharper.
I was afraid of losing what I didn’t really have.
Anxiety crawled on me day and night.
I began to question my self-worth.
I mourned a relationship that never had a proper beginning or even a name.
It could be me.
I could have possibly brought my baggage with me ,habits from my previous relationship, insecurities I thought I’d buried.
I really hoped for a day he’d borrow some of my love, wear it, feel it, then return it.
I still wish we weren’t so afraid of our emotions,and given love a try.
I want him to proudly and loudly choose to love me too.
But I guess love doesn’t always come back the way you expect it to.
“Why have you been in a bad mood lately ?” A friend ,that cares about my change of mood, asked me earlier last week ,and all I did was smile and said something about the weather being gloomy,I mean how was I supposed to tell her that I said goodbye to my forbidden lover?
We’ve had this conversation before and I promised never to see him again,how will I tell her that I lied ,you can’t blame me, his touch is addictive and when I spot him from miles away my mind goes on a vacay,have tried to keep a distance but when it come to This man ,my decisions, like brushstrokes on the canvas of my life, are inspired by a fervent yearning, an insatiable hunger that defies reason and embraces the primal depths of desire.
How will I tell her that every time this Man looks into my eyes ,everything I stand for crumbles beneath the weight of my transgressions .She can’t get me . I have to keep it all to myself , I don’t expect her to understand how every time he moved a step closer the flickering flames within me unabatedly burnt consuming all my doubts and fears.
I wholly blame myself ,its my avaoidant attachment style ,I loved being with him only because I didn’t have to show affection he had his girlfriend for that,there’s a battle between my heart and my mind ,I thought I got this ,the whole time I played myself,how will I tell her that I’m sad about losing a man I should have avoided from the beginning? How will I let her know how , her wise words of advice didn’t really seat with me ,does she have to know that I let my desires forsake me?
No one has to know how I feel about him, I’ll seek solace in the melodies of music, I’ll let the melodies drown my sorrows. I can’t tell her how my heart aches at the thought of no longer being by his side, how i cherished every stolen moment we shared .
I have beautiful marks of regrets within me, for I always knew our time together would be short lived.I’m just happy, I experienced the depths of love and passion with him, even if it was bound by circumstances. He has left an indelible mark on my soul , and I will forever cherish the memories we created, holding onto the lessons and takeaways from our “love”. As I bid him farewell, I genuinely wish him the utmost happiness and fulfilment in his life’s journey.
If you were from my neighborhood, you’d automatically make it to the good neighbor list. There’s a man from across the street who shouts, “Good neighbor! Barcelona!” every night after his drinking escapades. Every time he’s home drunk , he greets everyone on his way loudly, proudly, and with zero shame. And trust me, he’ll be sure to point out that you are indeed a good neighbor.
When we first moved here, I found it a bit weird , like, why would a grown man go around screaming “good neighbor” to just anyone? But if I remember correctly, there used to be a show on one of our local channels at that name. Maybe he loved Barcelona and the show so much that those are the two things that come to mind after a bottle or two.
I still consider him a good neighbor though. Despite the noise, he’s actually a great lad ,minds his own owns a cow and supplies milk to the rest of us at a fee, of course. I also get to borrow tools from him sometimes.
List 10 things you know to be absolutely certain.
Writing.
Photography.
Remembering .
Loving.
Expressing.
Relating.
Styling .
Design.
Beer.
everything Mwitu.(Street food).
What’s your favorite thing about yourself?
A brain that wanders and wonders.
A few months ago, I had a short-lived career as a car dealer. I spent my days talking about mileage, horsepower, automatic vs. manual cars, fuel efficiency, the whole sales pitch, trying to convince people to buy from me.
Every day, as I moved from showroom to showroom, one “car” always caught my attention. A vehicle with no engine, no headlights, no fuel consumption, yet it moved like a beast through the sunny streets.
“This has to be the real manual car,” I thought every time one zoomed past me. Well, we all know manual cars aren’t the easiest to drive.
I can’t speak for other countries, but in Kenya, you’ll see a mkokoteni every single day. If you ask me, that’s the real manual car. It ferries people, goods, animals,you name it. I doubt there’s anything a mkoko can’t transport.
If you’ve never been to Kenya and don’t know what a mkokoteni is, let me explain. A mkokoteni is a two-wheeled, human-powered cargo vehicle made from wood, steel, and tires. It’s found in every corner of the country. It’s not a wheelbarrow, not a tuk-tuk, and definitely not a car—yet it outperforms all three in certain conditions. You might call it a cart, but to me, it’s more than that. A mkokoteni is a workhorse, a survival tool, and a masterpiece of mechanical simplicity.
From an observer’s point of view, driving a mkokoteni requires a special kind of technique,a skill set powered by legs, sweat, and determination. If the load is heavy, you might need co-drivers to help push. It relies on full-body effort to get moving. I watch mkoko drivers stopping it downhill, their legs acting as brake pedals, and I’m in awe every time. The sheer force it takes to control all that weight? Insane.
Every time I spot a mkokoteni swerving through traffic, climbing pavements, or carrying an impossible load, I remember—it’s not just a cart. It’s a testament to human resilience, powered by absolute will, ugali kubwa and raw muscle . In a world obsessed with machines , the mkokoteni reminds me that sometimes, the strongest engine isn’t built from steel, but from the human spirit.
The voices in my head 