“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” the half-haired woman poured out of her car gushing in embarrassment. “Is it bad?”

“Well it will definitely leave a scratch,” He said peering at the damage.

“Oh my! What will we do?”

“Fix it.”

She waited a bit thinking he would say more and trying to assess the damage herself. When he didn’t, she looked at him and said, “Is that all you’re going to say?”

“What else is there?”

“I see. Well, I’m running late and obviously we’re building up more traffic. Can I just apologise for this and we’ll go on our merry way?”

“You want to just apologise? You don’t want to fix it like you’re supposed to?”

“You aren’t exactly saying much so I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Offer to fix my car.”

“I really don’t want to, to be perfectly honest.” He started to laugh but she continued, “Besides, if we weren’t on this stupid slope there would barely be any damage. Why didn’t you honk and warn me that I was backing into you?”

Other drivers had begun to hoot and yell at them to get off the road.

When he didn’t respond to her, she yelled, “Well?!”

“Oh was that a serious question?”

She was at her wits end by this time. Of all the ill luck she had to run into this weirdo. Now she was running late and she had to pay for repairs on his stupid car.

“Fine, I’ll fix your car. Where?”

“No, that’s alright. I have a guy. Just give me your number, I’ll get in touch with you with the bill.”

“Really? Really?” She really couldn’t believe this was happening. This man was actually going to get his car fixed and then call her to give her the bill. Chivalry would turn over in his grave if he could see this.

“Fine,” she said when he just stared at her. She gave him the number, entered her car muttering under her breath. She made quite the dramatic exit but not in the way she wanted. She tried to just zoom off but with the traffic and with other cars cutting around them, she couldn’t get back into the road. She suffered insults from many other drivers as she tried to force her way in.

He watched her from his car smiling. He knew he had successfully rattled her cage and it filled him with such glee. He had an easier time  getting back into the flow of traffic than she did and when he pulled up beside her and motioned for her to go in front of him, she snarled at him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

She watched him in her rear mirror laughing at her and it really got her goat. He was so cocky, the moron. All calm and cold and talking to her like she was a dimwitted child. She knew guys like him. She had been with guys like him. She hated guys like him. It was just her luck that he would have the upper hand over her in this situation. She would definitely get it back when he called her with his stupid bill. As the road freed up, she looked at him in her mirror one last time and stuck her tongue out at him. He raised his eyebrow and her stomach jumped. It didn’t help that he was quite attractive.



He had been watching her from his car right from the beginning of the traffic. He had never seen energy bounce off a person in such an enclosed space as this. She seemed to be constantly moving even though she appeared still. He heard snatches of “I drove all night” when she zoomed past to cut in front of him. For some reason her glass was down allowing him the privilege, to use the word loosely, of hearing the music, but now she was all wound up. She still moved to the now inaudible sound once in a while.

Something about the way she looked intrigued him. Half her hair was strung up in those colorful bendy things girls had in the hair these days, and the other half hung down her face in perfectly arranged curls. From behind it looked like one should expect that half her face would be made up and the other half would still have sleep marks. The idea of that made him smile to himself. At some point she was reaching to the back seat to grab something and trying to watch the road at the same time. That’s when the crash happened.

If he had been paying attention to the road, rather than to her he would have realized her car was moving backwards but no way was he going to admit to that. He had obeyed the law and kept the necessary distance; it was her fault. The strange woman should have been focused on the driving. Strangely, he was looking forward to the confrontation…

My halo is bigger than yours…

‘Sabi came over last week to talk about how she no longer loves Ay. She said she suspects that he has been stepping out on her and she won’t stand for such disrespect, especially now that he has shown no remorse even after a confrontation. Of course, never mind the fact that ‘K’ isn’t just a coworker but at least she has the decency to not throw it in her  man’s face and to intermittently, albeit weakly, try to break it off with him. How noble of her eh? I wonder why she tells me these things. I suppose she is expecting that I should comfort her, but I warned her right from the start and she wouldn’t listen. People really should listen to me more often.

Ayeesha had a few words to spare on the matter even though she wasn’t asked. Between talking about her 99 problems she chipped in, “I always thought it was disgusting how they pretended to be perfect. Life has exposed their BS now so ah well.” Then she went right on to talking about how she hates her sister. Apparently, it’s not okay for her sister to decide that she cannot afford to send her on another holiday. She must be selfish, she thinks. After all, she has watched the baby over the weekend one time and there was nothing convenient about it. Anyway, she has vowed never to speak to her again. She probably shouldn’t even try to be self-sufficient; her failure will be embarrassing. Gosh! I am so glad I have a good head on my shoulders.

At some point I should check in on JJ. He can’t be expected to be up to any good on his own. One bad decision after another has left him living a weird existence. He says it all the time that he doesn’t need me but my baby brother has clearly shown that he has no idea what he is talking about almost all the time. He says to leave him alone but what kind of sister would I be if I don’t save him from the failure he is without me? God forbid I allow him to gain an iota of self-confidence; he will probably just squander it? No, it’s much better if he is dependent on my approval. It’s the only way to ensure he does the right thing. I always know best.

“The world would be a much better place if everyone was like me,” I think as I sit there polishing my halo. It must shine brighter than it did yesterday. It must tell of my perfection and my honesty. It must show my humility and my strength. It must stand as a testament of my purity and my will. It must show that I am independent and in need of no one to make me better. I cannot help it if my halo is bigger, better and brighter than any other. I have done the work necessary. I have sacrificed my desires. I have laid down my pleasures. I should revel in my reward. What does it matter that I am sinking deeper in blindness to the reality of my bitter, judgmental and destructive existence. As long as I have my halo, all is well with my pitiful world.

Dear me,

Don’t give him a heart that is broken. You say he isn’t doing enough but you’ve given him a heart riddled with cracks. Can he help it if his love seeps out when he attempts to fill you? He is forced to spend so much time resecting the stiff remnants of growths left behind by past lovers. His hands are too busy peeling off the layers you’ve covered your heart with in a bid to protect yourself. He is trying so hard to discover the real you, he will be too spent to appreciate her.

You’re either giving too much or not giving enough. Your emotions are dangling over a cliff, urging him to take the leap yet scaring the faith out of him. You need to get a grip or you will drive yourself crazy right along with him. Your words are like shadows, changing their form as the day goes by. You’re not steady on your feet. You want him to hold you up yet you refuse to leave your hand in his. You want him to stay but you don’t want him around. You want him to go but you can’t bear to be away from him. Be a little less of a nutter, why don’t you?

Don’t be so hurt all the time. Your sensitivity should be sacred, not catering to every squabble it can find. Then you get cold and frigid when your emotions don’t get you what you want. You allow your mind to become an impenetrable fortress as you hold fast to what you think you know, leaving no room for him. You want to be able to show him where all your buttons are but they’re all stuck and you know it. Vulnerability has you tied up in knots because you don’t know what to do with it. You must figure it out.

Learn to find laughter, enjoyment, contentment, friendship with him. You’ve been singed by the fiery passion of desperate, selfish love; be sure to tend to your bruises, if not they’ll make you tender. You’re swinging from one extreme to another; taking out the frustrations of one on the other. You feel too much or you don’t feel at all; either too far up or lost in a free fall. You cannot continue to live like this; breaking yourself into these many pieces. Put the pieces back together and wait patiently before you love another.

You’re certainly not who you once used to be. Surely, you’ve changed; show him you are better. Give him a woman that is good so he can do all he can to make her better. Give him a mind that is steady so he can have a good foundation to build on. Give him a heart that is whole so he can have all of it to cherish. My dear, take the time to heal before you get back in the saddle.

I want to help Debbie

Can a person be scared of their own emotions? Debbie is! Her emotions are so powerful they shake sometimes her to the very core of her being. Literally, the stronger her feelings become the more her voice breaks and her fingers tremble. She describes the feeling as loss of control over her mind. She becomes disoriented, believing that everything is rushing at her at exactly the same time. Her legs no longer hold her up; I’ve seen her fold to the ground and start to cry.

She says it is so overwhelming that there is nothing beyond that moment in time. She never remembers how she gets to the point where she feels so much. She never thinks about how she will feel when it has passed. She is so completely blinded by the intensity of what she is facing that she cannot see even that clearly. She described a fog that descends on her mind and makes it all feel heavy. When she spoke to me, I pictured an impenetrable force field that envelopes her entire being and refuses to let anyone in.

When she begins to gasp you can see that she is taking in air but her chest is too constricted to let enough of it through. She tries to hold on to her sanity but how can she when her brain is not getting enough oxygen? She’s dying a little inside with every passing moment. That might be best, she feels. At least she won’t have to go through this pain for much longer. She starts to hallucinate at some point, I think. Talking about how her emotions morph into her worst nightmare and she’s drowning in an ocean with no land in sight until she drifts into nothingness.

I sigh as she relates all this to me. She really is quite dramatic but unfortunately, the little darling believes it is normal. Why wouldn’t she? For her, anger is rage, love is obsession, annoyance is hatred, pain is agony, concern is anxiety and fear is EVERYTHING. She experiences all emotion in more than high definition and it scares her. To be honest it scares me too because there is always the possibility of being like her. At the same time, one would not want to swing to an extreme and feel nothing. Question now is: where is the balance? I want to help Debbie find it.0511090204183907_Black_and_White_Cartoon_of_a_Woman_Making_a_Scary_Face_clipart_image

A Lesson Learned

Last week, I saw someone I hadn’t seen in a really long time. I was on my way to work the morning already wishing I could speed up time to the drive back home when I saw him. I let out a short scream that startled my colleague from work who rides with me every morning. He was even more surprised as I passed by a man in a wheelchair asking for alms, when I waved and smiled so joyfully.

He didn’t wait a beat before he asked, “Why did you greet that man like that?”

Typically, my response would be, “What man?” but I was feeling very protective and didn’t want my colleague to have to refer to him as ‘beggar.’ So I just said, “He was my father’s friend.”

I glanced right and caught his stupefied look. He was wondering how on earth my father could come to be friends with a man on the street and I understood his difficulty. So I went on to explain.

You see that man in the wheelchair has been on the street for as long as I can remember. I used to see him at least once every week, sitting in his wheelchair, bowl in his lap, and huge grin on his face when I was growing up. He would greet people as they passed in their cars with all the cheer he could muster. Whether or not you stretched out your hand to give him anything, he would wish you well on your way. To be honest, he seemed like the sort of person who was constantly grooving to music only he could hear.

My father would stop and chat with him when traffic slowed enough to allow it before giving him whatever he had. This man in the wheelchair would always say ‘thank you’ for tokens from previous days. It got to a point that I was usually excited to see him and I would happily wave back at him from the backseat with my head pressed against the glass.

Up until that moment when I saw him again, I didn’t even realize I had stopped seeing him for ages now. I suddenly began to wonder where he had been; what he had done. Had he been driven away? Had he moved somewhere more forthcoming? Did he have a home he retired to every night? Did he have a family and where were they? At what point did his day start? When did it end? Why was he back here? Would this cycle ever end for him? At the end of his life, what would he say it had all culminated to?

I began to compare the happenings in my life to what I thought could be happening in his and I started to feel guilty. Guilty because I spend so much time complaining about work, family, friends, food, anything, when I should be grateful that my hands have something productive to do; that people believe in me enough to have given me a chance to let me into their businesses and their lives; that people trust in my intellect to expect that I will handle even complex tasks efficiently. Guilty because I sulk over things that I have the power to control rather than fixing them.

This was a man who seemingly had nothing, with a disposition of someone whose life I would think to envy. I was reminded strongly that day by the crippled beggar that my disposition to life is MY decision. There is no basis for comparing our struggles, me and him-it would be grave injustice-but it wouldn’t even matter. If he can find the courage to sit out on the street under whatever conditions and SMILE every day, I can find a million and one reasons more to live like a grateful woman.

Letters To You…

Dear Love,

At least, that’s what you should be. Life is different now, but somehow it’s the same. I have been here before; I recognize what kind of place this is. This is not a good place to be. This is always the start of the path that gets steeper but never ends. You keep telling me it doesn’t have to be that way; that things can be different, but I ask you how? I don’t think it will be different, nothing ever will.

If you would just take a moment to look around, it would sadden you, the things you see. All too well I can see the desolate ruins, from which you have hope to rebuild. There’s a weight bearing down up us, wanting to break us; but you trust in strength that we have not built to push back and push harder. The walls are closing in on us every day but you ignore them, knowing that you have nothing to keep them at bay. This is depressing.

I’m envious of this hope that you have though. But I cannot bring myself to share it or believe it; not for all your promises or good intentions. Even my own promises seem so empty to me. I look through your words and into your soul and I’m mesmerized; my heart responds to you. But then you walk out the door and the chilly wind of the past blows the essence of you away and the fragments of my heart shatter some more.

I don’t know what to consider and what to forget. I’m drawn to you but I’m driven from you. My thoughts betray my heart, but my heart can’t hold a grudge. So, I’ve found a cave, and I’m going in there today. You might be able to reach or you might not; I guess this will be your ultimate test.

All my love,
Your Heart.