lokua kanza keeps me company this morning. his soft, quiet tones have a strange calming effect. also, it is my single favorite musician from DRC. not that it somehow matters, but I have become quite acquainted with the music of africa. and then some. of course, the boy has had a profound impact on that, but in a way, he only made want to explore more. know more, learn more. when someone inspires you for the smallest things, perhaps that should be a good sign.
in hong kong, the month of november is a gloomy one. it rains a lot and temperatures drop below twenty degrees, which for most population means it’s time for warm coats, scarves and extra layers. myself included. I still struggle with certain things when it comes to the two of us, but at least, I take his jacket now without saying a word. it’s not fair, but I’ve learnt to live with it. other things; not so much. it took me so long to get home last night, because we stood on the street, argued and talked through everything that’s been on my heart for the past three days. I wondered whether this was our end. but no. I need to learn how to trust. how to let go. how many times will I have to say it. just because I have been hurt before doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again. don’t be naive. sleeping is my usual way of dealing with things. he’s trying to teach me how to talk. he’s been teaching me a lot of things.
talk to me, please. talk to me, I am here. I can see something’s wrong.
I am hurting, you know.
it’s all I could say and it wasn’t fair. life is not fair. but is it even supposed to be? I need to start journaling again. some of the best words I have ever written were the ones I couldn’t rewrite without tearing out the page. the line between a writer’s block and simple unwillingness is very thin and in my case, it is slowly disappearing altogether.
I am disappearing.