DAY 29: Addicted.
Today will remain forever arched in the cords of my memory; today has been the day of my greatest strength. Yester night I had vainly tried to convince my anxious heart that I would survive the mincing challenges today had in store. And so, with dread in my heart, I did the things I had to do. And so, with doubts in my mind, I soldiered on. May this note serve as an infinite remainder; In troubled seas, I will find my way. On the ugly walls, I will find beauty. And to Jenny; even in a thousand lifetime I will never be able to repay your kindness. You’re a beautiful soul.
With the sentiments out of the way, today let’s address the last skeleton in the closet. When I started the writing challenge, a casual proposal from my friend Eunniah, it never crossed my mind that it would be the road to freedom. This far, I have described my inner most weird habits. In simple straightforward language I have outlined my thoughts on gender bias and religion. I even poured my heart out to my crush! She never replied though. But hey, at least I will never regret not trying my luck, right? Today let’s remove the last nail from the coffin; Sex addiction.
Anita*. Ours was a storm of raw passion. Smugly mischievous smile on tender moist lips. Agile waistline, raunchily round hips and a heart-shaped booty. Warm thighs, graceful curvy legs. Light-chocolate thickly soft cleavage. My fingers could trace every inch of her outline, my lips could massage every spot of her nerve endings. With her sexy intelligent mind, she knew how to provoke every ounce of desire in of my heart. With her wild spirit, she banished me to the land of craving. Morning, mind morning. Before and after lunch. And every single time she walked into the room.
Her story rarely slips my lips. For ours could have never played out a different way, and even in another lifetime the script of our fate will be the same. I am certain. She was a moment of insanity in my life, she inspired the reckless version of me. We were toxic for each other, thus, we had to go our separate ways. But does it really count as sex addiction if the chemistry is with one person? Whichever the case, there was a time in my life when all I could think of was sex. Raw. Wild. Phew! There, I have admitted. The past no longer has power over me.
Fast forward to today: I stood coveting the books on a makeshift book-stand on Biashara street. I had been here three times today. On the first account; I had visited my elder sister at her office, armed with a sausage for her. After storying for about thirty minutes, I persuaded her to buy me a book. A request to which, after glancing at the sausage packet, she had granted. Off to my book dealer on Biashara street, and I bout Breaking Dawn by Stephanie Meyer. There were countless interesting titles, but I managed to tear myself away.
Today we had plans with Jenny, but she had not arrived yet. And so, I went to Jeevanjee garden to read my new book as I wait for her. Captivated with the first chapter, I convinced myself that it seemed my dealer had interesting books today. Against all the reasons I gave myself for not going back to check out other readers, I found myself tracing my way back to Biashara street. This time, A Gentle Murderer by Dorothy Davis won my heart. Now on the third instances, with few coins on top of my transport, I held Becoming Naomi Leon by Pam Ryan longingly in my hands.
Today is not the first account of such an obsession with books. I have for a long time suspected that books took over from Anita*. Perhaps one day when every wall of my house will be covered with books, I’ll confirm this suspicion. For now, let’s leave it at the addiction of music. Ops, did I not mention how my heart constantly craves elegant poetic lyrics accompanied with soft beats? Well, now I have. Preferable, Julio Iglesias’, Peabo Bryson’s, Louis Armstrong’s, Frank Sinatra’s, Mariam Makeba’s. The list is long…