Take me back 2

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Continued from   Take me back              Just like that, my brain replays that crazy and wild night, back then before love ilinionesha shege kweli  kweli, nilikuwa na my then gal (Some how I'd forgotten all about her) , my Boyz and their women at a a certain club along Kiambu road, sikumbuki ni gani.  A couple of guys clearly drunk had bumped into my gal and her group while she was coming from the washrooms accompanied by her group (my Boyz women's). ( To this very day, I have never grasped why women go to the washrooms in groups),  After being told to watch where they are going by my gal, this guys, instead of apologizing, they became arrogant. They started raining vulgar insults on my gal and her group (my Boyz women's).  Mimi niko somewhere just sipping my drinks while observing the fruckus. I locked eyes with my gal at some point during my observation, saw all the balancing tears that were threatening to spill from her ey...

Absurdity of it

                 I was in this virtual space with creatives, creative writers to be specific, you know what they say about birds of a feather, don't you? We were in this virtual space discussing different issues here and there when someone happened to pose this to the rest of us


Can we play a little? I'm tired of typing, my nails are becoming red. How many of you have asked yourself this? 

“Am I actually doing the right thing?”

“Is this story worth telling?”

I must confess the more I make my story sound emotional, the more it's sounding like a comedy piece.

 

I related to it so much. I had been crafting a story to submit to a certain writing competition. I had been sitting on it for a while. It didn't have anything to do with creativity or writer's block, far from it. It could be the imposter syndrome creeping in, the vulnerability expressed by what I was penning, or how I was second-guessing everything I wrote. 


One thing is for sure, the longer I lingered on it, the more absurd it became. It may not be about being serious, or life was more about learning to laugh at your own emotional, and physical roller coasters, turning them into punchlines no one saw coming. There I was, pondering if this story would ever have an ending worth remembering. 


But here was the catch—just when I thought I had finally figured it out, the plot always twisted in ways I did not expect. When I thought I could embrace the chaos, it threw me another curveball—life’s own way of saying 

“Not so fast.” 

It's funny, isn't it? 


The moment you think you have cracked the code, life hits you with a plot twist you never even rehearsed for. And there I was, standing between what I expected and what actually was. 

The absurdity of it all? 

Maybe that’s the punchline.

Maybe I'll finish drafting the story, edit it, and submit it to the writing contest. Perhaps the story will wow the judging panel, and I'll win the contest, or I may not win the contest Either way, it is going to unlock infinite opportunities to hear and experience different angles to different stories. 

Or perhaps, 

the story is just beginning. 

Who knows? 

Maybe it’s meant to keep unfolding.


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