I want a suit. A 3 piece suit. A man’s kinda suit. I’ve always wanted one. For as long as I could remember. Yet if I was offered that suit right now, would I take it?
With all the excitement I entered 2019 with, I thought the answer would be YES. The answer is actually still yes.
Except it is a beaten down yes. It is a worn out yes. It is a yes afraid of things not working out. It is a yes afraid of wanting perfection and getting just good or nice. It is a yes peeping from behind the door, afraid to show itself fully. It is a shy yes. It is an inaudible yes.
But it is a yes nevertheless.
For all things I want, i find myself reacting the same way.
When did we all get so fearful?
I don’t know. All I know is that I want to not just do things, but to jump into them. To not think twice. To not even think at all. Not even once. Because all that thinking, where has it gotten me?
I love flying through the air. Damn, my favorite extreme sport so far is this ramshackle of a badly serviced boat look alike that suspends one in the air, with only one metal across the stomach preventing one from flying down to their ancestors. Its the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done.
That, and that other time I was zip lining across the air were the only times I ever experienced full freedom of everything in me. Knowing I could die. Literally die. But still go ahead. Because if I don’t die, I’ll get to fly across the air at speeds close to 100km per hour. I’ll get to be suspended in the air and watch multitudes of people scream at me. People afraid. Afraid. And to realise that for those few minutes, I am nothing. Just a speck in the air.
I want that feeling. Of nothingness. Of being part of the universe. Just another star. Just another speck of dust. Just another drop of water in the ocean.
I want to be me. I thought that that would be so easy. I thought it would be like Jesus walking on water. I thought it would be like listening to a story. I thought it would be as easy as making black tea. I thought it would call unto me the way sunsets do, and I would respond the way I usually do, with no resistance.
Though I don’t resist, I find myself thinking about it. For nothing. Why should I think about what my soul wants? I think a soul should always get what it wants. Because at that particular point on its earth’s sojourn, that is how it wants to express itself. Who am I, the carrier of this soul in this particular lifetime, in this particular planet, to refuse it? Yet we shall decompose in a while?
So though I don’t resist, I think my other self is used to reasoning. To writing down pros and cons. And finally picking the choice whose lose we are prepared to handle.
Unlike now, when we try. And if we fail, life offers more exciting things to try and fail. And before we dwell too much on the previous success, we go along with something else.
All I know is that, i want my yes to graduate. I want an empowered yes. I want a loud yes. I want a confident yes. I want a quicker yes. I want an unworried yes. I want a yes that jumps out when called, not a peeping tom.
So I say yes. And say yes again. And say yes again. Who knows? Maybe this yes of mine requires some workout to grow some muscles. Maybe this yes of mine requires a few frequent yeses to see how things go when we say yes, for it to stop peeping.
I don’t know. Maybe it requires me to say yes to those things that make my heart beat so damn hard. Like that shoot I want in coast. Like telling that person I like them that way. Like wanting the things I want, knowing fully well that I have absolutely no idea how any of them will come to fruition. To own my wants.
Maybe this yes requires a few failures. Because if there is anything that motivates me, it is wanting to know something, to be good at something. When I sat for my KCSE, of all the subjects, I wanted to know what I got in Chemistry first. Because I had always consistently failed in it. The rest of the subjects could wait. There is a way, failure tastes to my lips that makes me want to retry till I get it right.
Unlike success. I realise success is just that. Its just that. No ceremony. No oomph. Like I don’t think much about the things that work out as much as the ones that don’t. Its like success is a comfort zone. Or I made it to be the standard measure, such that succeeding at something is more normal rather than out of norm.
I want to look dashing in that suit. I want to confuse people’s daughters with all that daring sexiness. I want to look in the mirror and see my dreams standing in front of me in person. I want to look at my phone and instead of all those pictures of my crushes, it shall be me.
And for as long as i’m not there yet, we shall keep working on that YES.