THIS IS ABOUT YOU

Quickly, urgently you take off your clothes like they are on fire. He sits on the bed watching you and failing to believe his eyes. He has delicate features, well groomed, well dressed and smells like tobacco and cologne but still he can’t believe his luck. He can’t understand how he doesn’t have to lie, plead or spend for you to give yourself to him, and you just do. He doesn’t know that this has nothing to do with him. This has nothing to do with the fat, ill-mannered jerk from the previous night either. Daddy issues they say. This has nothing to do with your father. Sure he could have done a better job at supporting you when you were a fragile little girl but no, his absence isn’t the reason you are naked in this man’s presence. Naked, you walk over to the man, he is still looking at you in wonder, waiting for his luck to run out but it doesn’t. You unbuckle his belt and he sighs when his member feels the cool air. You straddle him and close your eyes, taking him in and letting it all out; the anger, the disappointment in yourself, the hunger. Fervently you ride the loneliness away and leave as soon as you cum with your bra and your shoes in your hands. This has something to do with your mother, how she was never strong enough to leave your mother even though he hit her, how she waited for death to release her from his grasp. She should have smiled when the lowered him into the ground but she wailed, screamed like part of her was being buried. Why do women cling to things that ruin them? Love should consume you but it shouldn’t eat you alive.

This has everything to do with you. You and how a smile stays on your face even when people cross their boundaries asking for more than you are ready to give. Remember that first guy you were with, his drinks were fine, his laughter and world-wise stories were enchanting, you smiled and enjoyed the moments but it was too late to say you didn’t want more when he was pressing you against the floor, taking more of you than what was on offer. Remember that guy you were in love with, Mbo. Mbo doused everything around you in his presence. So much so that when he left it took you months to know that he was gone for real. He had come and gone too many times for it to be real this time. You stared at the door for many days waiting for it to open and for him to come booming in with his being but he didn’t. All your relationship memories where in the confines of the four walls of your bedroom. You talked there, laughed there, fought there. All you ever did was fuck or fight and you knew it wasn’t healthy but that didn’t stop you, it wasn’t healthy but it wasn’t just-any-other-thing. You didn’t want to be weak. You didn’t want to pass up your chance at a once in a life time love just because you couldn’t handle a few disagreements. He claimed he didn’t know how to love you or how to show you he loved you so you settled for what he could give. Passion is a blessing and a curse. When he wasn’t making you weak kneed and sore from his fucking he was punching walls because of his temper or being moody and strangely silent. But hey, at least he wasn’t punching you and at least you weren’t alone. Nothing ever made sense was he was with you and nothing ever made sense when he was away from you. With him you were alive without him you were hopeless. You knew he had a problem when you woke up before sunrise and found him sitting on your bedroom floor drinking feverishly and craving a joint. The look in his eyes made you feel unsettled but in the moment you knew that you would always be number two to alcohol. He had a problem that you couldn’t fix so you left. But it was only a matter of time until you returned.

Remember that other guy with severely dry and cracked feet. He wasn’t your type but you wanted him simply because there was no one to want you. He pounded into relentlessly for three hours until you bled and when he was done he continued to text other girls.  It was as if you weren’t there, like you didn’t exist. You went back to Mbo that night because at least with him you existed, he didn’t know how to love you but at least you existed.

Remember that guy. The strange artist guy addicted to weed but also so calm and chilled with his thoughts more put together than anyone. He was special. You wanted him because he didn’t want you and you didn’t stop until he did. Him you didn’t sleep with but he said he loved you, when you said you loved him too it was strange and misplaced like you were wearing another girl's shoes.

Is this about Mbo, is this about how you weren’t the highest in class but never really the lowest? Is this about how you will always feel empty to your core? You have done it all! You always swore that you weren’t the type of woman to be a door mat but look at you, finished and ground down like last centuries rag. You have dieted, worn fancy clothes and turned heads, you have spoken eloquently and been admired. You have had friends and been the life of the party. You have lost yourself and found yourself only to meet the irony of losing yourself again. You are so scared of shattering your life, so scared that you are unaware that your bare feet are walking on its ruins.

This isn’t about them honey. This is about you.