Did you block me on whatsapp? I have given it some thought, a great deal of thought and, as much as I tell myself you have no reason to do so, it’s the only explanation that makes any kinda sense.
I have, it would seem, stalked and hounded you so much lately, even I find such behaviour creepy.
We were friends, good friends once; I messed things up, but I’ve been hoping I didn’t mess a good friendship up so terribly that we can’t at least try again. For friendship.
I understand that you are with another, love another, a former. Maybe you never truly stopped loving him, but this is not about you and him, it’s about you and me, and I don’t doubt that you loved me with all you had in the period we were together. A period, I have never told you, that was the best period of my life yet.
This is not me making a play for your heart, but I miss my friend.
I am at work and through the door I see passengers waiting for their flights, I see something funny, the type of funny only you will get and I reach for my phone, then I remember that you don’t want me to contact you. I send it anyway then wait for the grey tick to turn blue.
I check my phone every few seconds after that until I realise you will not acknowledge it, acknowledge me. There’s the now familiar sinking feeling, but at some point I snap out of it.
I woke up today and tried to send you a message and you were not there. I couldn’t get through to you. I waited all of ten minutes, my heart in a tizzy, before I heard, in my mind’s ear, the plunk of a seed landing there. It took root and grew fast. Very fast.
She has blocked you.
But I had to know, so I am writing this to ask if you blocked me on whatsapp.
I cannot finish this without again saying how sorry I am for the hurt I put you through, it was not my intention. No, I am not sorry that you found out about my infidelity, or because you did. Perverse as this might sound, I think I wanted you to find out. Leading a double life was killing me.
Why didn’t I get out? You know me. How many times have I had reason for the silliness I get up to?
I am, however, sorry that I took something so beautiful and shat all over it. A steaming pile of shite.
I was going somewhere with that, but I’ve lost track. Plus I doubt the picture I just painted will score me any points.
Now I’m rambling because I don’t want to close this. I fear it might be the last conversation, conversation? we will have, and I want it to be profound. Filled with ‘depthitude’ that will resonate for a long time.
Now I’m just writing crap.
So Keme, tell me, did you block me on whatsapp?
I looked through the mail I had just composed, not seeing anything through the blur that was my vision. Heart racing I pushed send before courage failed. In the next instant I reached out to retrieve the mail, but it was too late. At least my phone said so: Message sent.
I sighed. I had no idea what had come over me the last few days – it must be all the songs I was listening to.
My phone vibrated under the desk where I it, making me jump. I snatched it up and tapped the envelope icon. It was a reply from Keme.
Yea, pile of faeces isn’t the way to garner sympathy or show remorse. Lol.
I almost hit delete before reading the mail you sent, but that’s not how we were. We could talk about anything, and we would listen to each other and work things through. At least so I thought.
You must know Bobo, that I only meant to love you. I gave you my heart, but you were not content with the love I gave. You wanted my mind, and damn near drove me out of it in the end. I threw my everything into you, and then some. “Don’t do this to yourself,” I often told myself, but would I listen to me? Lol.
When we ended, for days I could not breathe. No, not literally, but I would think of you and I’d feel like bands of rope were getting twisted tighter around my chest until I was gasping, clutching my throat, fighting for a little more air.
Bobo you finished me.
There are ways to kill a girl, a knife, poison, maybe even run her over with a car, but taking her pride hurts more. Like, that’s ruining her life.
You ruined my life. Almost.
You say you miss our friendship and all that, but you had it and threw it away. For what? What were you seeking? What do you seek now? Whatever it is Bobo, I hope you find it. But the cap you’re carrying about doesn’t fit my head.
I don’t bear any grudge against you and, crazy as it might sound, I love Fred. I understand his love. With him I can catch myself, protect myself. You, you crept up on me like carbon monoxide. I didn’t see you, or feel your power until the damage was done.
I love you Bobo, I can’t deny that, and it’s this love that’s made me cut you off. I beg of you, do not look for me again. If you love me at all, let me move on as I am trying to do, and may I suggest you do the same? And Bobo, do me a favour, take care of yourself.
Goodbye my beloved.
I sat there looking at my phone like it had grown fangs. Mercifully, it wasn’t a busy day, so there was no customer to deal with.
‘How do you cut me out of your life and call me your beloved in one breath?’
I felt something run down my nostril and I sniffed.
‘Hey Osime,’ at least my voice wasn’t shaking, ‘I want to get to the washroom. I’ll be back in a bit.’ I didn’t look my colleague’s way, but pushed back my chair and left the Shop.