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Happy birthday, Jean

There are worse things than being addicted to alcohol. Things that drain your heart of all feeling that you cannot really believe they are actually happening. Surreal things. Some people break a nail and curse the universe out because… who would cause somebody’s glittery pink nail to just break out of nowhere like that? A fucking psycho, that’s who. I am writing this at 3:12am. The date according to my laptop is 12th of September. My heart is heavy and my brain fuzzy. I feel everything and nothing at the same time. I am trying to ask the universe “WHY?” …
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Modern Day Musketeers

Don’t you just hate exams? It’s like the teachers don’t believe in themselves, right? There thinking testing us is the only way to validate themselves. Constantly not believing in us and that we really went to class and concentrated the whole time. Minus the few times we looked into our phones or just didn’t go to the class, because there are some of those classes that we just have to purposely miss. Every semester they give us exams to test us, rather than teaching us those exact things that they test for. Like 10 questions are the scale to know …
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Jacked Up Stranger: The Test

Growing up without the guts to punch people who piss you off in the face is cowardly, yes, but also kind of interesting. I know because I lived it. Barely being able to tell people who did you wrong that they had. What I did instead is probably the most cowardly thing you have ever heard of. I would write. Write down what they did to make my chest burn. I would sit down and describe, in gruesome detail, what they made me feel. Pages filled with words describing how I felt when I was facing adolescence filled my notebooks. …
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Delusions of Grandeur

Isn’t social media a crazy place? A mess of the wealthy and the wealthy wanna-bes, the high schoolers and the campus-ers, the odis and the classy all mixed together in one gigantic cauldron. Everyone has forgotten those terrible blurry selfies with the ridiculous poses and just as bad captions. I recall a time when we identified our accounts on Facebook (because Facebook was all we had) by our profile pictures. “Nilikutumia friend request na hukuaccept,” a classmate would say 2 weeks into a new term. “Who? Me? No you didn’t. What account did you send it to?” “Si wewe ndiyo …
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The Afghan Hound

She hasn’t texted. It feels like I have so much unfinished business concerning her. The Jacked Up Stranger chick. Link to it if you are among the few who know not what I am talking about is this: https://notyetadults.wordpress.com/2018/07/13/jacked-up-stranger-the-meet/ Is it right calling ladies chicks? Sometimes people remove the ‘k’ to make it more bearable. But doesn’t that only serve the purpose of enhancing the effect of the word? But this is not a morality piece. This is about she who has not texted. It sucks, being blue-ticked all this time. I posted the first post about her thinking that …
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Being An Introvert.

First things first. Coast was amazing and hot and beautiful and chaotic and did I mention hot? It was so hot I seriously considered sleeping outside on a mkeka and being a Nakuru person, that is saying a lot. There was so much to see and do and complain about and enjoy and have a bus full of students lost in its industrial area. It was actually my first time there and I have never been happier to lose the v-card as I am at the moment. If you haven’t caught on yet, I am trying to say that I …
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Jacked Up Stranger: The Meet

Sitting in a matatu has to be the most stressful thing of this lifetime. I’m not only talking about finding the perfect seat. It begins with the matatu itself. It needs certain levels of perfection that need to be quickly assessed. Are the seats well spaced or will I reach my destination with cramped feet? Does it look roadworthy or will it disrupt your schedule by breaking down somewhere in no man’s land where you can’t get another means of transportation? This assessment is done in the three seconds you have as the matatu glides magestically past. One wrong move …
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I Feel Different.

I feel different. Like I am the only one who is different And I fucking love that I never have to follow the written down rules For being the one who is not like the rest It’s crazy A little different The one that is different I like that Being unique in yourself Being not perfect Loving who comes and letting go of those who let go I really like that Because conformity is not right Agreeing with all that comes your way is not right And it’s been going on for a few days, yes I’m still pretty excited …
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“Coasto”

Kwe was living the life he left the vastly populated lands of Nyang’oma Kogelo, a village in the former Karemo Division for. He was now in the sandy beaches of the Indian Ocean, never in one area for more than 2 weeks. He met lots of white women. “Elderly white women”, he corrects himself with a smile. He had left the poverty of Nyang’oma behind and now he was posh and classy and sophisticated. He smiles as he reminsces. Kwe is the typical Luo man, as I am told there is a typical every tribe man. Kalenjins are tall and …
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Thursday, 10th May of 2018

Today’s post was supposed to be about disappointments. About “why it is a road full of disappointments”. By it I meant why the sundry shop of existence is filled with so much wrongs for the deeds we term as right for our paths. I had planned it since last Friday. I already knew which weird synonyms I would use and I practically had the whole piece placed in my head. Heck, I even knew what the first paragraph would be, word for word. I had written it and corrected it so many times that it was perfect for you. Perfect …
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In A Western Stalemate

Someone told me that my karma is my memory. I didn’t agree. Obviously. What could that even mean? I’ve heard karma is a bitch, so were they saying that my memory is a bitch? And what kind of bitch? The cute poodle kind or the kind that is spoken to some and leads to palms covering chapped separated lips that know too much lipstick right after the sudden breath of air that seems to originate from somewhere in the back of the throat and ends immediately after? Was it that my memory is the kind of karma that is commonly …
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