Friendzone

It came to me as some foggy memory. I remembered when her hand slipped in mine. The way her tight and curved lips played with mine. The warmth of her forehead when it rested on mine. The sweetness of her breath while it mingled with mine. I remembered the kisses she planted on my neck. Her fragrance while she sat by my side. Funny how my mind remembered all those things that never really happened.

From the philosophers desk, close some doors not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because they no longer lead somewhere.

Boys have crushes, men have girlfriends. I am so sure it said something about legends, but my memory lapse game is so strong, where legends > men > boys. That meme sent me into a frenzy of soul searching. Have I grown to become a fine young man, or have I stayed in that state of stunted growth and remained to be that young boy I was fifteen years ago. Yes, fifteen years ago I had my first crush. I have had several others, but I'm guessing that just as it is with first love, one never forgets their first crush. I didn't. I haven't. 

At a very tender age, I had sleepless nights. Sleepless nights not because of nightmares but sleepless nights filled with thoughts of her. With my eyes wide open, looking up at the ceiling, I lay there thinking about her. Whenever I dreamt, it was her face I saw. Wondering and hoping that she might be thinking of me wherever she was. That she might miss me as I was missing her. Today, I'm left but only to wonder if she ever had any dreams of me. Did she even think of me the way I thought of her? Every second of every day?

"If I'm the fire, you're the spark. If I'm the lock, you're the key. If I'm the eye, you're the tear. If I'm the dark, you're the light."

After having read it aloud, she handed me her phone to have a taste of the poetic nature of her admirer. Well, I couldn't blame him. I had also craved for things I couldn't get. The sparkles of her eyes, the honey that is in her smile, her militant barbie breasts, the beat of her heart. 

Yes, wishes are sometimes broken. Yet all in all still remain beautiful. She made me smile, she made me laugh. She made me wish, she made me hope. She made me dream, she made me wonder. She made me feel she was God's answer to my prayer. Just because she didn't know what it was, doesn't mean she never felt it. She'll surely remember it for the rest of her life. She'll get glimpses of it in the guys she falls in love with.

She came out of the bathroom, her white towel covering not more than half of her body. She sat across from where I sat. All these while I'm cursing the day I tamed that beast. Applying lotion to herself she unknowingly tried so hard to touch more of her own flesh. She then asked me to do the same for her back. This was more reason as to why the common mwananchi confused us for a couple. How I wish it was so. To her we were best of friends. I remember one time I hit her with that I love you speech and she replied, "I love you too." For a moment there my heart leaped in utter excitement. Then she went on to add, "you're like the brother I never had."

We had been through her admirers, her boyfriends, the dates, the heartbreaks, the tears. I was the shoulder she'd cry on, literally. Yet through all these, all I ever wanted was for her to thank me for who I was, for being by her side thick and thin. All I ever wanted was for her to say she loved me. To say she was mine for me to keep, now till eternity. For if patience truly paid, she would be the sweet fruit of patience and toil and I would have earned her.

Nevertheless, love dies. I never wanted it to die, it is what I cherished. Steadfast and strong, how can it have perished? The lack of pitter patter of my heart, that the mere thought of her brought on. Loved her for years with not much in return. Thought that flame would always burn. But as always, between the two of us, the dying love will hurt me the most.