Stranger to Stranger

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We’ll laugh about it someday. How life was once mean to us, that we knew not whether to live or to survive. Because we were so cuddled up in the warmth of cold hearts that we forgot that two were meant to be better than one. But it was just that. Two warm bodies. In a hard bed. All or nothing.

We will do this as strangers once again. Two young souls from the unforgiving sheets of the Nairobi cold, still struggling to find meaning in all this. All this nonsense of waking up, drinking up, and calling it life.

You’ll chuckle at how I haven’t changed a single bit—as constant as change itself, still the scared little kid afraid to accept love, with an aging body. And you, carrying all the beauty that should’ve been mine. None will ever understand what it means for someone to mean everything to you and mean nothing to them.

But beneath all this darkness, there’s a light in me. I’m a lovely person when you close your eyes. Or look up close. Or take a quick glance. And there’s beauty in you, one that masks the darkness in you. One that makes the hurt seem lovely. Just the same way I make being uncool look cool.

We did it so effortlessly, breaking each other. It seems like we sought the things that were born to be the death of us. Mine was to teach the lesson. You learned the ropes, and what did you do with it? Tie a knot and hang it loosely in the streets.

Yet I still believe, that in the vast space of nothingness, you and I, a stranger to friend to a stranger to the shadow that creeps in the darkness, will be one again. Perhaps you’ll step out of the mirror and talk to me. Or leave me the hell alone. Or embody the good things I am rather than the darkness in me. Or speak out loud so that others can hear you too to prove that you’re real.

As Written by Brainy O’Bee


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