It’s another beautiful morning and I wake up once again with the same addictions that I went to bed trying to get rid of. I can’t see the end, no. There’s no light in this tunnel, but hey, it’s another day and no matter what has been carried over from the last, I’ve still got life, still got you and your love, what more can one ask for.
I can never say I’m losing my mind because I’ve never really had control. I guess I just spend too much time worrying about my impact. forgetting that I am only one in a billion, neglecting the present, the gift that is today, packaged sincerely for me to be the best human being that I am.
yes. Human being. not Human becoming, nor human been. I can never say I’m losing myself because you will always be what you are being. If I’m lost, then being lost is who I am and I’ll just have to deal with that. You know, they say actions speak much louder than words. The lost can talk about being found, but the found sleep at home every night. That’s being Human being.
I always wonder about life and the fabrics of existence. I don’t want to speak profanely about the structures of the world because they are real and one who lives beyond their boundaries will fall into our rejected bin of outcasts. But I can’t seem to stop thinking about my default position in this life. If I let go of everything and allow myself to free-fall from this place where I’m trying to create something, down to the place that is made for me. The default position, the place where I don’t have to do anything but simply be.
But I don’t know how to act in a drought. So what if I let go and find myself living without? I guess that’s why it’s called default. If I go out of my way to find my default, would it really be my default? Or will it be a position that I chose to find?
Or is it just fear talking? fear taking over my mental now that I find myself in a position to create the life that I’ve been prepared and preparing for all this time? An honest opinion once told me that I worry too much, fearful of failure in this life which I once thought I had at my feet. But now I’ve got my head in the clouds, can’t feel my feet on the ground, so how do I know if I’m still on the path?
I’m crying out to the oppressor, “hey, you missed one. this one didn’t turn into a robot. It’s not content with the cubical, it’s not a political radical, it’s starting to sound a little cynical…” oh snap! I think I should stop there before they start seeing that I’m dysfunctional.
Mr President, it’s been done. Africa has been cleaned up. We managed to get the women thinking and they did the dirty work for us. We educated the African woman our way, empowered her with eyes to see the savagery that is hidden in the lies of the male of her species. It took us many o’ years, but eventually she broke free from his control, reproduction levels decreased, charity for the poor seized to exist, so they were easy to wipe out. It was easy still. The black male is good for nothing, driven only by passion he manged to imprison the woman through her emotions…but that was nothing a little education could not change. For many years the woman has been secretly crying for power, as soon as we gave her that in Africa, nullifying her hormonal need for the male was made easy by job satisfaction, and eventually erased through the granting of power over the savage. It’s only a matter of time until the last of them are gone from the face of the earth. We’ll speed up the process with a little more Hollywood and drug substance availability, we’ll use that very passion against him.
Chris, I saw what you wrote about the African woman. It’s simultaneously saddening and frightening to see that you think like that. Are you trying to say that the empowerment of the African woman will spell the end of the African male? I thought you were much smarter than this. This is the sort of backward thinking that has held our people enslaved by outdated custom and misleading ideologies. I’d advise you to reconsider your position on this matter before you completely discredit yourself as a rational thinking member of society and ultimately end your writing career before it has even begun. Think deeply about it my boy, you have a promising future ahead, don’t let this be the end of it.
I’m sorry Miss Jackson, I am for real. I can’t avoid the zeal that I have for the truth, I’m looking beyond face value, examining the principalities and the cracks in it. You see, growing up I was always told that I was bound for failure. But still I made it through the grades until now I’m almost touching a Law degree. I realise now that I was not meant to make it through the system that was constructed to stop people like me. people like me being the ones they love to label as having fallen through the cracks. Well I was in the cracks but instead of falling, I climbed. Unseen in the mist of the darkness that was foreseen for my future, I made it out. But now I’m looking at the world and it’s time for me to out into the light. It was only when I came out to finally see the sun, and at first glance it hurt me and I realised that I was disillusioned all along.
Why does honesty have to come at such a hefty expense? It’s as if they want us to continuously live in suspense, unknowing the conditions that we are fighting through. Globalisation and urbanisation is our reality in Africa. But look at how many of our men are turning out. An African man has to turn to homosexuality in order to be accepted as less of a threat in this world order. I’m watching the American movies, there is always that one awesome “gay black best friend”. Are they openly trying to advertise to us that we are more useful for society when we play a helping role instead of becoming leaders?