Happy Monday, people!
It’s a brand new week, and here’s a brand new letter by @Daginie.
Read and enjoy!
“I am not surprised not everything lasts, I have broken my heart so many times I have stopped keeping track… I tried so many times not to lose it bla blah blah blaba”. Psst! Fuck all that Michael Bubble mushy-ain’t-nobody-got-time-for-that-shit. I. Have. Lost It! Yes, and proudly so too.
See, there are only so many curves, loops and bends a nigga can take in his life time before something snaps. Trust you me, I have had my fill of love and whatnot. My heart and mind can’t even stay one place no more. How dare it? After all, it is broken into pieces, and flung everywhere. A bit with Shade, Chidinma, Bola, Fatima, Caro [yes, read that again], Dupe. I will stop just right there since we ain’t doing body counts, right?
Should I tell you about my relationship with slim shady stubborn Shade, who said. “My past is in the past, so I will spare you all that bullshit cause what is real is us now”. Well, so deep it was until the creepy shadows of her past sneaked up on me and became our everyday reality and arguments. Her past was a gigantic dinosaurous shit! No kidding and definitely no bull shit. She lied. Or is it tales of crazy ass Chidinma [really she did have some crazy ass, though] whose passion, sexual addiction & prowess will make a dog shy? Not even my stick-a-knife-in-your-back friend was off limit. She just had to bring it home, didn’t she? In my room, my bed and still had the fuckery effrontery to say, “Baby, please listen to me. What I had with Emma was just sex, with you it is love, chemistry, passion……” “Shut the fuck up you piece of shit, you this moronic biatch cooking in its own stew, while I try to comprehend the depth of endless stupidity you just spewed”. Oh and Caro, you should have heard of her and how she is necessary and all that. Fuck that cock and Sandra bollocks story! She ain’t shit. Wherever money goes, there will you find Caro.
Next, I can’t tell you all the sweet and romantic things you want to hear, apparently there is no sweetness left in me, more so, it’s been a while I actually had any confectionary. I can’t tell you that the man I am now is not a birth from all these pile of shit. I can’t even promise you that I will love you, and without doubts; that I will cuddle you after our sex bouts; that I will let my feelings show on this stoic face of mine. But this one thing I will: with the elixir that is your love, my all will I give to clear each and every hurdle, leaving the dark alleys of hurt, anger, hate and trouble streets. I promise that your love will change me, I promise.
I have got to go now, there is somebody knocking on my door. That should be Alero by the way, my next ex, call her “Press X” [present Ex] for short [Sighs].
After all that is said and done, I still kneel down at night and pray to God that you won’t be next ex. Less I forget, what the fuck took you so long!
Side note [because sidebar is too mainstream]:
All names and actions in this letter are purely fictional. Any resemblance to any person alive or dead, especially dead is purely coincidental and non-intended. Now why y’all looking at me? Do I look like a killer?
LOOOOOL! You need help, @Daginie. See y’all tomorrow!