The day i died in my tears.

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We all have good and bad days, but the bad days seem to be many, more so when things are not going according to our expectations.
The good days never seem to last long, but the bad ones last an eternity. There are days one just wants to sit and the ground to swallow them up, or just stare and hope to see of a brighter future.
Then there are days you will sit at some corner and weep, not just cry, because you are turning to be the person you thought you’d never be. It is life, ups and downs all that makes life interesting.
I will tell you of the day i cried, cried my all, shed tears that were crystal clear and some that were dark, dark as the night could never get, especially when you live in a city full of lights, the natural stars and the street lights.
I didn’t cry because i was sad, who does that? When sad, one grabs some bitter cheap liquor and drowns the sadness, or you go for a night out and be the wildest.  I neither cried because i was angry, who does that? When angry, you look for someone to blame then give them a piece of your mind, all this accompanied with yelling and shouting. Nor did i cry because i was happy, tears of joy really? who came up with that shit!!!

I cried because i was disappointed, disappointed with the human i was becoming, a human who bottled everything within self. A human who never took no for an answer, a human who sort for pleasure in bodily things.
So why cry because of the choices i made? Isn’t one supposed, to just accept the consequences and move on? Only children can cry and not be judged, they do so because they have nothing better to do, so i in my 20’s crying, crying my heart, mind and soul out… what had become of me?
Either way i chose to cry, cry till i could be a better me, so i thought, but it all begins with a thought? doesn’t it, our habits are just a result of our cumulated thoughts and, here i was thinking of how i could be better, how i could make smarter and wiser choices, how i could blame others less, how i could stop looking for bodily solutions.

I slept at the edge of my bed, and all the memories i created there came to life, all the men i had been with, the ones who touched me places i never thought existed, were pulling a part of me. The much they did, the more the tears i shed. Some i had learnt to love, while others were just for the moment. They were all their trying to have me, this time not like before, with energy and excitement in their eyes, but with rage, and anger because i had walked away from them.

On the edge of my bed, memories came to life, of days i had been better, days i was my mother’s child, and my sister’s friend, a role model to my kid brother, and a best friend to my friends. Those memories blamed me, blamed me for all the wrong choices i had made, blamed me for what i was now, and the more they blamed me, the more i cried, the darker my tears were.

On the edge of the bed, the bed that would give me rest on an eventful day, the bed had now become a home of memories, not the good ones, but the ones  that had made me become the human i was becoming, and the more i thought of the human i was becoming the more, my eyes were sore and the darker my tears became.

For a moment, i died, i drowned in my tears, and went to some haven, i saw some light, so bright all i could see was a white light, and i knew that was my future, brighter than the days i had, and at that moment, i felt life in me, and the good days and times came to life. And i remembered they were good, because i chose to see them as good.

And the memories i had created on that bed, were good, the men i had been with, were good, but not the best, i deserved the best, that’s why i walked out on them. And i was a better daughter, sister and friend because i had chosen to, but when growing we all make wrong choices, that doesn’t mean we have to accept them, so i knew i could change my choices, and be the better daughter  my mothers daughter and not that of the world.

And when i died, in my pool of tears, i promised myself to stop being the human i was becoming.

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