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Open Letters & Hearts

​You ruined 2am for me. You woke up at 2am to tuck me back in when I kicked the sheets off. You got out of bed at 2am to get me a glass of water because my voice sounded parched. You stayed up till 2am talking to me about the universe and you couldn’t fucking stop and realise you were my universe. I tried to go to the bathroom at 2am and you held on tighter and asked why I was getting up. I pushed you to the edge of the bed at 2am and you woke up to kiss me not fight. Everything at 2am felt better with you. You loved me with all you had at 2am and when the sun came up you decided that that wasn’t love.  

I ruin everything to make us even. I read through your messages while you sleep looking for the worst side of you. I respond to every compliment with sarcasm and eye rolls. I refuse any declaration of love because I am determined to reveal the wolf  beneath your skin. When I find the man beneath all this, I sink my dagger in. You will never know the extent to which I love you. But you do, if I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t focus so much on ruining you (twisted, I know) When you give in to vulnerability you admit to the pain you bear with my distance. And at 2am I will be vulnerable too, I will reach out for you and draw you in, just so I can remind you how you ruin everything. 

If you’re reading this, I am sorry. I was never for you and you were never for me even though it felt that way. The fact that we always broke each other is testament to that. You deserve better, as do I. 


Love in the time of social media. 

Dear Mr 83 mutual friends,

I don’t know you even though Facebook insists that I do.  But I will not hesitate to say you have a face of someone I could fall in love with. It’s not just the suit, even though I have an unfair weakness for a man in one. It’s also the ease with which I can pronounce your name, 3 syllables, fit for me to take on. It’s also the way yours is the first face I see every morning when I check my social media notifications, is it fate or is Facebook keen on making us acquainted. From the little I could see from my brief investigation of your profile, you have a firm grasp of English and I have fallen for men with less. Your obvious obsession with sports will be forgiven, because I have an obsession of my own: dogs! We would look great together on Instagram and from what I’ve heard, those are relationship goals. Before I go, I’d like to add that I melted when I saw a picture of your mother you recently uploaded on your page. A man that cherishes his mother is surely a keeper. I hope to send you a friend request one day or vice versa.

Sincerely yours, Ms 83 mutual friends.


The Awkward blog entry!

I am just going to come right
out and say this… “I like you.” Yes, YOU. We are strangers but I have made it a
point to “casually” add you on every social networking site you have ever
joined. Except Instagram, I found it too pompous for me to use (and yet I have
a vivid mental picture of every meal you share!) 

Rumi, bitches!
You’re not different, you are a
typical 22 year old boy/man (I’m not sure which you are) and I like that. I know
this because you tweet about politics, music, friends and life in general. I constantly
agree with your thoughts (well those that you share) and that counts for
something… in this overly disappointing world, it does count. You are
respectful to strangers on the internet and you do so with such a remarkable
grasp of the English language (grammar and all.) But above all you are passionate. You
are passionate about life and everything you embark on: your studies, your
faith, your friends, your culture, your family and even the weather. Sometimes
when you have a bad day and you are brave enough to let the world know, I try
to cheer you up. You reply with this effortless witty humour that you often
share with strangers, such as myself. But I can’t be just another stranger. You
address me by my name and I fight the urge to do a backflip (even though I can’t
physically perform a backflip, i am tempted to defy this to do so on days
like this.) I can only assume that your parents raised a gentleman. From what I
gather your family is well off and yet you come off as hardworking and modest. You
have an amazing sense of fashion (Exhibit A: Facebook) but it helps that you are
painfully good looking. I admire how social you are without letting yourself
become a social media whore. I like to think that you ask our mutual friends
about me. That you silently follow my blog and memorise the quotes I share
daily in an effort to spread knowledge and love. But most of all I like to
think that you must crave to know me as I crave to know you.
You are not without your flaws,
I know this because that is reality. Speaking of reality, I must admit that I never
want to meet you. It helps that we are in different countries but one can never
control how the universe works. The amount of energy I put out might just draw
you to me or vice versa (because I do believe, on some level, that this is
mutual.) You see, people have been disappointing me of late… more than my
neurosis can handle. So I know that this cruel world is bound to fuck this up
if I met you and you terribly disappoint me. So, for now, I am content with
this. With reading your words and opening incognito tabs of your online photos
and knowing that someone like you exists.


Signed, Sealed & Delivered.

“And now we’re apart and you’re just some stranger who knows all my secrets and all my family members and all my quirks and flaws and it doesn’t make sense.” – Gaby Dunn

Dear Sir,
I regret to inform you that I, Kirabo Nora, will no longer be emotionally attached to you. Although our arrangement lacked any form of regulation regarding termination, I took it upon myself to include the reasons because I, unlike you, have a heart. As such, I have a moral obligation to show just cause for your discharge.

Simply put, “it’s not you, it is me!” I have developed strong feelings for you (these feelings will remain undefined for the sake of sanity.) but I have it on good authority that although they do surpass the frivolous title of “like” they do not come close to the rank of “love.” Said feelings have set off the psychotic behavior that I had outgrown and attempted to evolve from, intellectually and emotionally. This includes jealousy, unwarranted verbal fights, cyber stalking and the occasional glance at your cell phone, to mention a few. Attempts to suppress these feelings by inebriation, long talks with friends and the occasional prayer to all deities has failed. I do not know how to be casual. I misled you by having you believe that all I wanted was passion when in reality I wanted romance, intimacy and commitment. I can no longer give this incomplete version of myself. I must find a contractor with similar requirements of myself. I apologize for failing to make this known when it was inquired about in more than one late night inquisition. Your inability to provide reciprocity has rendered my feelings null and void in this matter. I was faced with suppression on one hand and extinction on the other. As previously stated, I am incapable of the former and so I am attempting to attain the latter by termination of this arrangement. I will no longer answer to “babe” “baby” or any other variations of this pathetic substitute for my name.

I am willing to offer friendship in place of the former arrangement. This, however, will require drawing up a new agreement to include clauses that will outlaw all form of physical contact and any other forms of intimacy with emotional ties. This new agreement will be enforceable after a reasonable time has been given to “move on.” Until then, you are asked to comply with this decision regardless of drunk dials, Freudian slips and other constructs of my subconscious mind that may imply otherwise. 

Yours faithfully,


Oh Christmas Tree!

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…I am indecisive. I
have come to learn that this is because i do not know what I want. And that
stems from desiring so much. A hunger for the paradoxical, the unattainable,
for knowledge and emotion yet to be described. A capricious search to put out
the fires that my volatile soul ignites simply by existing in such a world. Now
this is the fire; when I know what I want, I go after it like a dog after a
bone…like Kim Kardashian after a rich black man; an insatiable hunt that
never really ends. I burn down the thing I desire in the process of attaining
it. I am not a rule breaker, you see…but these rules society imposes, I
simply cannot follow. It is these rules that clash with my existence ; with my
notions of life. For what I want, society never wants to give (without a
fight.) I want to break down these rules; this structure, so that I can have my
way…so that I can have you, maybe.

The Christmas gift phenomenon is lost
on me. My idea of “giving” around this season is to share heartfelt words, or
time; the epitome of giving, really. Needless to say, I am impossibly in love
with Christmas. It is one of the first “things” I ever truly fell in love with.
Well, I wouldn’t call it a thing, it is an entity! One that earned a permanent
spot in my heart; you know what they say about first loves! So, my heart does
exponentially expand around Christmas time…there is so much joy, I do not
know where to put it all. 
I had been blind to this fact, you see. The commercialisation
attached to this holiday, the materialism and every
other worldly aspect attached to this season had made me cynical about
it. But this year, after much soul searching, I have taken many steps to
distance myself from self deception. So Today, I can proudly exclaim this
truth; “I love Christmas!” I am beyond grateful for the birth of Christ. And I
am beyond grateful for the people that have been a part of my life as an
extension of knowing Christ. 
Christmas is synonymous with my childhood. I remember so little of
my childhood yet these little bits of memory contain
such wondrous scenes of Christmas…the tree, the music, my mother’s
home cooked meals that had become extinct, Church, laughter with my
siblings…WOW, why had I tucked these memories away? Yes, the mask protects
yet robs so much from me in the process. 
Well a couple of months ago, I had an epiphany. From now on,
Christmas should be a walk down memory lane every year. It should embody the
healthy kind of nostalgia I am yet to attain. For me, you see…Christmas is
embodied in the tree! Every year for 13 years or so,we have had the natural
tree; the smell filling the small rooms of our flat, the amateur decorations
and the attachment that grew to the tree; a symbol of our attachment to one
another…no visible affection until the season beckoned such. What happened to
this tradition? Why did we trade all this for the plastic lifeless tree that,
at heart, symbolised the plastic repertoire we had grown comfortable with? The
curse of the plastic tree! Eeek! I know it’s in storage, waiting to come out
and do its annual damage. And that thought keeps me up at night. All I want for
Christmas, as you can plainly see, is a natural tree. Big enough to tower over
the desires of the self and summon joy and togetherness. I want THAT tree that
had an automatic spot every year for those 13 years. No gifts, no words….just
a tree!