HE IS GOD AFTERALL

This was inspired by the movie "LUCY". You'd understand it better if you see the movie. Totally fiction people. judge less. 

 

HE IS GOD AFTERALL

            He had a partner from ‘LUCY’, a female version of Himself. He had wanted someone (a helper) too. When He created for one for Adam (man), He hadn’t thought of Himself but over time, He came to like these creatures, even adore them. He eventually decided it wouldn’t hurt to have one but in order to have one, she had to be distinct. She couldn’t be as ordinary as his other creations. He had given them ability to access only 10%. He had felt they wouldn’t be able to do much damage with that little but then humans always are humans. With as little capacity as 10%, they have still found ways to destroy their habitat, make living unsuitable to others and channeling resources only to a few and these are just the ones that use close to their full capacity. The many others who hardly bother to discover their potentials do worse; they turn to violence out of frustration, malice and envy. Some have even taken killing as a hobby and pronounce that they do it in His name and that hurts the most. It hurts that His creation could become pure evil; they oozed darkness and distorted his landscape with their dark-dotted hearts.

            This was probably why He had created her. To take his mind off these hurting sights and at the moment she was doing a good job. She was a constant thorn in His flesh (when He decided to have one) while still being amazing. He had given her 90% access but constantly made her believe she was a 100% like Him. Of course He didn’t have to lie about it, after all He is God, and He never does. It was for safety reasons anyway; just in case she was to get a bit out of hand, He’d still have the upper hand plus the universe really only needed one true God. He sometimes questioned His decision in giving her up to 90%, maybe 50% would have been enough but He had wanted a being close to Him. One that would have knowledge of the bodies and firmaments and of the unseen, even the beginning and no human could process that easily, not even with 50%.

            So yes, 90% was apt; close but not close enough to dominate, lower but not too low as not to understand Him. She had been His vacation, companion and friend so much so that even on days she was being difficult, He never regretted His wisdom in her creation. Although He didn’t like it when she made him alter things He’d rather leave in place; touch the lives of people when He’d rather let them figure things out themselves, but He also understood that she was emotional after all, He had made her out of the female fold. He had thought it adequate since His creations always referred to Him as a He. Of course He was many things; a He and a She included but the reference had stuck and grown on Him that He now also referred to Himself as a He too.

            He felt her presence now and turned to acknowledge her. She had taken another form as she always likes to do; pleasing His sight with His many creative forms. This time she looked Caucasian and African at the same time. This was a beautiful blend and He momentarily thought of making a race out of this mix. He wondered when next He would see her true form for He knew she only showed her true form on special occasions. He had another momentary thought of making a new phenomenon occur but decide to wait. He reached for her and her form hands touched His and He knew and said that this was good.

COS I KNOW

I hold my head up high cos I know

Yeah I hear the whispers. I see the mean stares

Your smile is so tight. You are really terrible at faking it.

You didn’t have to turn your back to roll your eyes; I saw it coming

I hold my head up high cos I know

I know what I want and don’t settle for less

I don’t rush it to beat others and end up stumbling on the way

You don’t like that I am comfortable in my own skin cos you aren’t in yours

I hold my head up high cos I know

That my mistakes don’t define me they only make me better

You talk about them and dwell on them, wasting your time

You make all sorts of jokes about em while I move on,

 I hear you sniggering

Yet I hold my head up high cos I know

That you hate me for pushing you

For making you leave your comfort zone

You felt humiliated, strained and naked

But to achieve greatness you have to go through these

I hold my head up high cos I know

That you believe you can only make it by working against me

Or without my knowledge

If only you knew the greatness that could be achieved together

I hold my head up high cos I know

That being different is a success on its own

I offered that you be different with me

But you were scared and instead of saying so,

You turned it to hate

I hold my head up high because I know

I know that I still love you all regardless

My motivation is love and in me dwells a well full of it

But in loving others, I love myself the most

And I know you know this

Do you know now why I hold my head up high?

 

PARIAH TO PHARE

 

She sits and stares, motionless, till the tears begin to drop from her eyes.

Her moans of pain are not heard. She swallows them and though the lump is thick in her throat, she doesn’t dare let it out.

She wonders about her choices, if she really screwed things up or if indeed she is where she ought to be.

She never really was given a chance. She never really had what she wanted. Taught contentment and humility she had had to suck her needs and pride back to be accepted, wanted, and tolerated.

She hates that she is still not content, not that she complains about it but her heart knows, when she see those object displayed as treasures to show comfort and affluence.

She seeks to look affluent. To want what others do. To have what others do but she dares not speak of it. She remembers content.

She builds up a character around it. She really doesn’t like glittery stuff anyway or gold, doesn’t match her skin colour. Her crude gadget does all she needs and social media only distracts. Does it not?

Gradually these excuses become her and she grows to realize the bunch of others having it, don’t know why they do. They have become robots, getting what the times tell them they should have without asking questions.

Her inability to blend had made her different, distinct, and classic. She smiles at last; maybe her nothingness wasn’t a bad thing after all. It had fetched her something not bought, no price tag. Something unfathomable; Phare

Failing over and over

Father- daughter

It unwinds him how little, pink and fragile she looks on arrival. He has heard they usually look this way but he manages to see her as more exposed and his first instinct is to protect her. She is his and he doesn’t totally understand how he had contributed to the creation of a being just like the ones he had always adored, admired and feared simultaneously. He holds her in his arms and she moves and makes sounds trying to cosy up into this new resting place. He holds her tiny hands and they are warm then she opens her eyes shyly and looks at him and he is enthralled. It lasts only a moment, her glance, before she shuts them again to sleep but it meant a lot to him, she had seen him, maybe even recognised him. He suddenly realises that he had lusted over and hurt her grown type and he immediately feels sorry for it all and wants to make sure to keep her so much so that none of his type ever lust over her, ever.

He has got this in control; this being a father, amuser and protector thing. He really doesn’t have to do much; just carry her a few times when she’s awake. Maybe change a diaper or two, in which case his wife must feel really grateful and lucky that he is such a good father. His baby is almost always so happy when he carries her and she is happy to do as he says. She seeks him and is excited about anything he presents to her. She makes him laugh hard and thinks him her hero. He likes this position, this control over another being who is his.

Then she starts to want more. She wants more than his attention, his presence, his presents, his tricks. She's reluctant to try new summersault techniques and her body almost always hurts. It’s becoming uncomfortable to look at her or carry her because there are now two moulds on her chest. They just freaking grow up so fast, it blows. That’s what she says “it blows” what happened to the old time “it’s annoying”. What does ‘blows’ mean anyway? The baggy trousers and shirts he bought her now seem to be going down her box and she wears more of skinnies and tights and silk. He hated this loss of control over her and any iota of it, that he thought remained, flew out of the window the day he saw her coming from a party with make-up on and behind her were boys boys? boys!...

He doesn't know how it happens but she gets molested and his heart is broken; he sees her as damaged just like that girl he heard about…

He feels sorry and inadequate for not fulfilling his post as protector but instead of apologizing and helping her mend he becomes a coward. He can’t look her in the face so he avoids her like one would do a plague. In order to protect himself from his inadequacy; which really isn’t his fault, he makes her feel unwanted, ugly, used, inadequate. He turns his own angel into a leper in his house. She feels unimportant probably even like an object to be used. Becoming what society often refers to as a girl with daddy issues. In some off way, she finds she poses some sort of power over these men and decides it is better to make them pay for what is already being referred to as damaged goods. She convinces herself that it is a win-win situation.

A friend of her father sees her in a club or some other place he frequents when his wife is "stressing him out" and goes to tell her father about it. He sits and listens, stammers and raises his voice as he says that he has disowned her a long time ago. He never thought she could amount to anything reasonable anyway. His highest hopes was that at least she’d give him a rich in-law but apparently she couldn’t even do that much. Imagine, she doesn’t even speak the dialect well. She was probably a gift-the revengeful curse of an old girlfriend-sent to punish him. They laugh about this and a picture of her innocent- tiny- pink-fragile-self flashes through his mind and he chokes on his gin. His younger daughter rushes to get him a glass of water and she can’t look him in the eye. This must be a nightmare, his soul screams but instead of telling her ‘thank you’ he yells at her to get another glass of water for his friend who he catches watching her backside as she walks away.

 

rebound

He awakens my senses. I see clearer. I wake and breathe different; the air is cooler, the day a tad bit brighter. An almost permanent smile is glued to my face. The hairs on my neck suddenly acquire life. Almost everything tastes like chocolate and his voice creates a sort of soothing resonance that only my ears seem to catch.

We’ve all heard about the rebound. He/she is the perfect person we find right after a bad break-up or in the process of a break-up. They usually don’t last long; after the first bloomy moments when you completely get over your ex, the rebound starts to seem like just every other person that isn’t your ex. The fantasy fades, the perfection flaws, his/her reference to your ex-lover starts to sound hypocritical and then you discover you have probably made another mistake right after one.

I have heard of the rebound too but you know how something regular happens to you and you don’t want to admit that it is what it is. You are like 'mine has to be different from others. I mean no two situations are the same, right?' There were other prospective rebounds. This one won all others. I can’t help but acknowledge its presence, its stance, its intensity, its gut. It can’t be wrong if it feels so good.

They make you become more self-conscious. Are you tall enough? Is your ass the right proportion? Does your accent sound forced? Things you didn’t bother yourself with in your last relationship because you already landed someone. It dawns on you that you try harder now to impress. You stop to ask yourself sometimes if you should let yourself get consumed again. You start to wonder if you are cool enough to entice em, keep em, if you’d really want to keep em and then what exactly ‘keeping em’ implies.

Intense; the way he can be stoic one moment and then unexpectedly stare boldly, deeply. Just when I think it’s all in my head and that it’s a tease or just momentary, his gaze holds mine and I believe again. I want it to be true. The truth I told myself. Or is it true? I can love again, well…not yet though but it does feel good; all that excitement that come with new flames. I tell myself it is just for fun. Then I catch myself lingering a little too much on the memory of his face.

the perfect break-up letter

Dear stranger,

                I want to be interested. I want romance. I want care and love, not just a passive look. I want to look into eyes that want to know what I’m thinking, into eyes that make me want to smile and blush. I want the truth; sincerity. I want to hear about what happened today with no exceptions; no editing. I want to be held as if I matter. I want to be interesting enough to be paid attention to. I want hot sizzling sex that tells me there is some love in there. I want to be able to watch you hug someone and not feel a single bit of jealousy because I know I get a much better hug. I want to be that person you call with a big smile on your face. I want to be your princess; what makes your day brighter. I want to be your peace.

                I don’t get half of this now and I know you would say it’s my fault; that I ruined it, that it was all there in the beginning and I made you lose it but then no one ever loses love or affection or care. Yes at some point I might have lost it myself but one always gets it back if one ever cared enough. When you apologized, I was always expected to forgive and wipe the slate and over and over I did but now that I have to apologize (and I have) it seems to me like you just nod your head and say you agree but you don’t truly forgive. It’s locked up in there, all that malice and I don’t think there is anything I can do to change it; you already made up your mind.

                The question now is if I have to take it; take being a confortable existence in the life that is totally functional without my presence. Do I have to accept my fate and carry this burden all my life because you believe you are doing right by yourself? The answer is NO. Like you, I have needs and like you, I have to satisfy them. Some people (females mostly) would try to feel satisfied and take what they get (making lemonades out of lemons). I, on the other hand, would go after the orange juice. I never thought I could settle for less. Usually I make what I have into the best and if it is not working, I go out there to find exactly what I need. The universe was made to provide for us; if you look hard enough you would find what you are looking for. I guess what I am trying to say is, I’ll be leaving soon.

Yours apologetically,

Your soon to be ex.

meeting my stranger

Dear stranger,

My name is … does it really matter. I don’t know yours either and I feel quite comfortable sharing things with you. I could try putting a name to you just to make it feel cosier; pretend we are long lost friends that accidentally met in ‘assuming land’ and decided to share experiences. Let’s see: Gilbert, Lucy, Simone, Chad, Clem, hmmmm… Charlie. Yes Charlie. Ok then.

Dear Charlie,

Naa! I don’t think so. It doesn’t work for me. Let’s just stick to the stranger thingy. What do you say? Alright.

So, my dear always attentive stranger, I hope you get my letters even though I don’t get yours except in ‘assuming land’ which is quite fine by me. I like to imagine you have problems too just like me and need someone to unburden to. That really is why I write to you... just so you know that other people have problems much more grievous than yours. You are so lucky you do not really exist unless your problems would be much worse. I can imagine your first problem being that no one acknowledges you but really you should be glad because people are rude, dubious, and selfish these days. Imagine saying 'good morning' to someone and they look you dead in the eyes and still don’t respond. A child greeted me while I was walking through an unfamiliar street one day and I lovingly and excitedly replied his greeting because I thought it was really strange in these times to be greeted by a child, who you weren't familiar with, when he stretched his hand to beg me for money for his school fees.

I could give many instances of such but I wouldn't want to bore you now, would I? Besides today is about YOU. Ok then, I imagine your second problem would be ME; my constant whinning to you about my feelings, experiences and failures, and for a non-existent person you do have some fleers that don't sit well with me. Here I am talking about myself again *sighs* and I can feel you rolling your eyes. If only you had an actual face I could punch. You realise, though, that there is no talking about you without me. Uhun, well because without me there is no you. I bring you to life. if I didn't interact with you noone would as you are in me and noone can gain access except me. You are a bridge between my concious and sub-concious and i really don't know what i would do without you.

You have helped through tough time and taught me how to grow out of self pity. You taught me self exteme and helped me keep my head up high when everyone else expected me to constantly admire the ground. Coversations with you helped train my voice and though people would see it as madness, and a few times the stares made me stop, but you constantly put words in my mouth and images in my head to force me to speak to you. Though I tried to make sure we were (I was) indoors most of the time, just so i don't get tied up and hauled to Yaba-left. There were lots of sad times and tears but you made me laugh. I learnt to laugh at the most ridiculous things and found that others found them funny too. My stranger is my mind. It works like a totally different person yet we could converse like we have been long time friends, constantly teaching me things I never thought i could learn without, yet dwelling within. A lamp leading the way. A nail knocked in place. My manna constantly falling from the heavens.

Yours inspired

Me.