The idea of killing one’s self has been talked about  a lot in the last decade,it seems a spike in the deaths of mostly males of the humans species has not sparked the most needed discussion for a solution to this growing problem. A lot of men,mostly in the 19-28 age group have been pro death over dealing with day to day mundane things that the men who came before us faced only on a grander scale,so why then?,what is making this young souls punch their own clocks at such an alarming rate?

To understand this macabre phenomenon, i had to look within first.Being of the right age and of course living in a unstable and still forming society i would think we would be dropping like flies in this third world.Looking into myself was easy,it is always easy when you are having a honest chat with yourself but unfortunately when women process their emotions and share their plight with their friends or family psychologists say the burden is more times than not,lifted.Men on the other hand are expected by society to have a anti-emotions shielding under their hairy skin to repel all feeling-based triggers that may be viewed by all as feminine or for the weak.i digress,Lets get back to looking within.

My vision of what adult life would be when i was growing up was always marred by doubt and a all round negative view of living.don’t get me wrong,i was not walking around with my self important nasal cavity pointing upwards like pumbaa in that “hakuna matata” song no,it was more like a expectation for everything that can go wrong to go wrong.I expected to die even when a fender bender between a matatu and a lorry caused everybody in rickety matatus to scream,that same assumption for the worst followed me everywhere,a dark cloud over my head waiting to engulf me at any moment.I wore that darkness as a cloak creating a barrier between me and everything else,always expecting the worst of every situation and every person.The happiness felt in friendships and belonging never resonated with my dark cloak of shame and despondence.In my solitude,in order to function in society avatars had to be formed,these personalities were interchangeable for every occasion or interaction and before you knew it i could not recognize my true self.

You look in the mirror every morning and whisper some words of encouragement to that void inside your eyes that houses the self encompassing every notable attributes you show or hide,both mental and physical,you try to gloss over your big ass ears and exalt your beautiful eyes,you stay positive and remind yourself how special you are.We all do this,well,at least most of us do,psychologists have told us time and again to keep a healthy relationship with ourselves,they tell us to only feed our brains with positive thoughts and with time our brains will rewire our psych for a more fulfilling life of happiness.We learn that it doesn’t matter how one’s physical drawbacks are,that all can be overcome with a positive attitude,that’s all we learn.We decide to die because there is nothing to live for,this has nothing to do with how we look,my brothers die because they do not belong anywhere.The personalities we make for ourselves don’t fix us,we function as  best we can,our fairer sex counterparts shoot for the stars while we look on and smile,whispering to ourselves through gritting teeth,

“its their time”

Yes my dear sisters,its your time to shine,to reach for the moon and Venus,to reclaim the power that was stolen from you by outdated practices and a chauvinistic male dominated world.This new age world has promised and delivered on the proverbial microphone for your powerful voices.We have acknowledged your might as powerful African mothers,sisters and wives,where respect was not given,is commanded,the world becoming a village has strengthened your resilience as the ones who came before you carved in blood the heading for your chapters in the history books.

The latter being a complete revision for the gender roles in society,history books that are more often than not written by the victors still cling to where power is,our fathers who are still at the helm leeching off the boom of short skirts and flowery fragrances in the otherwise male dominated board rooms pluck petals off sprouting flowers at will.While we rewire our already brainwashed minds to accommodate the new world of   gender equality and political correctness trying to be malleable and hard at the same time,our fathers sit pretty on their thrones of old,slowly seeping into this new world only to corrupt the free new age broke young fillies with the promise of a easy life of excess and debauchery.i digress.

We choose to be what we are,we choose to not pursue higher education because we don’t study in class,we choose to sit in the street stuffing our faces with leaves and chewing gum because misery loves company,while our sisters drive new hybrid cars we swing off  metallic bars welded onto fast moving public vehicles blasting loud music.My brothers choose to love other men because living the high life comes at a intrusively painful price;we don’t marry our women anymore because we are not heads of the families our fathers told us we would be;our whole existence as the male species has been reduced to a test tube full of sperm,we have become obsolete.

We are already dead,we walk around heads bowed down because in our hearts we know,the reaper came to us a long time ago and only took our pride.No voice in our hearts to sing our songs of bravery and duty as we do not have anything to live for.We have died and our ancestors can’t save us anymore.

The tide of change is sweeping through the minds of all,preparing the world for a new age of being.Our fathers were wrong,our fathers lied to us when they married five wives,they led us astray when they paid more attention to us when we were born,when our sisters were given their list of things to aspire to,home making and “assisting” their husbands.

Our fathers were wrong.

This is the sacrifice we have to make,in our insecurities and inexperience we have planted seeds for the new age,played our weak hand hoping to bluff and get away with it but the house always wins.Without any structure or sense of directions we thrust away and hide in the carnal knowledge of the women we will never marry.we dominate and for those few minutes grunt and sweat with a sense of importance as boys play at being men.Sons we bear but don’t raise call out to their mothers for the instruction to life while we hide in our drug fueled embarrassment watching women thrive without us.

Maybe history will not hate us as much as we hate ourselves,our bastard sons will grow up singing songs of praise to their mothers while we slip away into the darkness and with us a forgotten generation of young men who never reached their potential.

Maybe that is the price we pay.





Some of the greatest minds in human history killed themselves,they either had debilitating clinical depression or felt alone and cast out because of their ideas that were ahead of their time.Men like Earnest Hemingway,one of the the best writers of our time  blew his head off with a shot gun,not forgetting one of my favorite rock singer song writers  Curt Cobain who also had a soft spot for the same powerful hand gun to punch his own ticket.Allow me to use these two icons to try and understand their state of mind at that time before lights out,broad strokes of course.

In the dead of the night when the only voices you can hear are in your head a lot can be said for the trail of thoughts,well,mostly for insomniacs and trust fund brats trying to understand why they are so blessed.Curt Cobain had a heroin problem,Hemingway is said to have lived in the bottle.The question that rises from their untimely deaths is their status,these men were great,these men were famous and successful,why the need for self sabotage?.psychiatrists speak of underlying mental trauma that is usually buried deep in the subconscious,it is either experienced physically or emotionally at some point in their lives.

Hemingway lived through two world wars,saw the gruesome realities that come with conflict,he saw his friends die and nearly died himself a couple times.Cobain got hooked to smack as he tried to balance his growing fame with his laid back soft spoken demeanor,he was always a odd ball though but listening to his music now anyone can feel his soul resonating from the tremble of his voice,he captured many hearts by letting his own bleed on guitar strings.could their fame and glory have been intertwined with their demons,would they have been better off without the monkeys on their backs?

Personally,i cannot be attributed to any great feats although i consider surviving this puss oozing knock off reality a feather on my cap but our addiction to self gratification has reduced all of us to happy masked puppets always going with the flow.The odd ball phenomena is quickly being eliminated from our society as the entire world tries to fake it by #winning.

My ‘# not winning ‘ self gratifying remarks on social media drew the interest of a wonderful person though,someone  i had never spoken to before or met in my life,now anyone will tell you that if anyone shows interest especially if its a girl,we automatically switch to our dick heads for level ‘headed ‘decisions and reasoning.on this encounter though this particular person who i will call “damsel to the rescue”had been following my irregular posts on life and death and every other depressing topic in between.She insisted i call her after jotting her number down.


“Hi,have we met before?“my dick head wanted to know.

“I don’t think so Grundel,are you okay?”she asked sounding really concerned.

“Am good,why do you ask?”

“well i read your post and it sounds like a cry for help.Are you alone?”at this point my dick head had pushed the matter to another  more hands on department.

hehehehe am good,i just like contemplating life and everything,”

“How old are you?because this happens mostly to adults who are in their late twenties”She was a professional alright,

what happens? oh, and yeah am 27…”

“Clinical depression,its a mental,i am a social worker,we see many cases like these but since its a sort of taboo in our African culture many people live with it,some kill themselves because of it and i was just concerned for you”she sounded really nice and i didn’t want to be a dick.

The conversation took longer than expected,it gradually moved from self hate,to religion and its place in my life and at the end to how life is simple and should be taken a day at a time.

At the end of the discussion i was happy for her,the conclusion we reached was one of positive vibes and songs of rebirth but at the back of my head(not my dick head) The old man and the sea which is one of Hemingway’s best short stories was popping up,paragraph after paragraph.The fact that a total stranger was moved  enough to try and save me from myself did not move me,of course i was grateful for her kindness and humanity but i still felt this uncontrollable urge to stay my course.

Damsel to the rescue never called me again but she did make a reasonable impact in my life.I knew then as i do now that i am not alone,many of us feel out of place,this life feels like a bad dream,some sick game we have to play for a prize we cannot hold or take home.I also know now that there is a flip side to that coin,happiness can be realized,life can be sunshine and rainbows but all this has to come from within.I am still looking for that spark,my dick head has given me alternative choices but they are temporary and in some cases quite expensive so,no.We all have to talk about these things,especially African men.Kenyan men like myself who were taught to always be strong and unflinching in the way we expose our emotions.Until this evolution of how we show and embrace our emotions comes full circle,Nirvana will caress my ear drums as i gingerly caress my proverbial shot gun.






My dad was my hero,ever since i can remember.He was always on the move so the few moments we got with him were cherished.Those days no matter how dysfunctional a family was, respect was always upheld for the parents.He had told me that his great grand daddy was a very harsh man,he would have them picking coffee berries at the tender age of six,and supper depended on how you did every day,

‘huyo mzee hakua mchezo’ he would chime in looking nostalgic as he reminisced on the good old days.Yeah,the days of children respecting their parents to the point of fear,but then again fear has always been a great motivator.

‘did you hate him?’i asked after giving him a moment to travel back in time,

‘At that time when i was a boy, yes.I guess we all hated him.The fact that he made us work so hard made sure that we never went hungry.Back then a man’s self respect was worth everything to him and in the case of that scaly bastard,two wives and a litter of rag rats didn’t help the situation.’He finished as he looked ahead,(our little talks always happened when he was driving.)

In a nutshell my understanding of the good old days was that every man had something to push him to greatness,there was always something,maybe a father whose shoes were always too big to fill;or a maverick youth with a chip on his shoulder and ghosts to impress,the constant always remained,as a man you had to be something.

The place for the male child was always defined from birth,you were to inherit your fathers wealth and take care of his wife and your sisters until they were married off,this was the unspoken rule,this was the sacred duty for every boy who was to be a man.The past was not kind to daughters,as most were perceived to be property,only useful for the dowry they would fetch when they came of age.For the status quo this unspoken rule meant that one sex would be deemed as more valuable than the other.The girl child was disadvantaged as per how the world viewed our way of life.

Times were changing,we had to change with them.The arrogance and self entitlement of the boy child had to be checked in the new world of fairness,the girl child proved to be more disciplined and ready to learn as we were stripped of our ‘backward ways’ and given a new god to worship.We have been fumbling around in the dark ever since,one  blind man leading a horde of confused blind uneducated fools into a uncertain future.The progress for this caterpillar to morph into a butterfly has been marred by set back after set back,we gave up our fore fathers beliefs for a better world,a world where all children are equal and as per the law,require an education;a world where girls get to choose their lovers or husbands and boys can knock up any girl promise her the world and then leave in search of more sexual conquests.Its a new age of choices and privilege.

The doctrines and beliefs that held our communities together seem too far fetched to be true,we are all white people now,the caterpillar finally burst out of its cocoon and spread its wings to fly,but where to? were are we headed?

My father is long since passed,his wisdom and new age philosophies have become lost to me,just as his grandfathers became obsolete when his time came,this is a world that doesn’t wait for no man,or woman.since the unspoken rules that guided both sexes in the days of the past don’t work in this day and age we have been forced to latch onto other more sure footed peoples,the world opening up to us all like a double edge sword cutting from both sides.

I am a old dog,i neither want to nor require new tricks because my master knows i am a outside pet and such as that i will stick to what is familiar,that is the one life lesson for the new age young man or woman struggling to find meaning in this fast moving world.We are all lost now,in our rush to be butterflies we forgot to ask the route we are to take so we just follow other creatures who look like us hoping they know the way.There is no matriarchy anymore,this new age world hungers,for all the old ways and beliefs,every tradition that was reinforced for thousands of years is eroded,consumed and replaced by political correctness and law suits for libel cases with faceless trolls trash talking  each other on social media.We are all judges now,bound to this new connected world of fads and trending new age lifestyles that change faster than shit through a goose.

The one constant god in this time is money,the only language we all understand.Respect now is weighed by the zero’s in your bank account,our daughters and future wives have put easy wealth and comforts on their ability to keep these old men warm in their beds,young men revitalize the untamed older lionesses who stepped in to fill the leader roles our fathers couldn’t evolve to fill.We are all whores now,we crave a life long gone,a happiness we really do not deserve because we don’t sacrifice and work hard for it.The irony of it all is clear for all to see,its a woman’s world now,the strength that came with the man of the family has been abated,African men are becoming obsolete,hell am sure they are working on a synthetic sperm out there to get rid  of us completely .frankly speaking i don’t blame the fairer sex,i happen to think the family should be led by the woman as nature shows us time and again.some of the most successful species next to humans are led by females ie. wolves,elephants,leopards,cheetahs but naming a few .The uncertainty of this new world order has made men soft,we have been intoxicated by the thought of being pretty too.We want what the women always had,we want to be begged and courted.We want to  cry and show our emotions too,all the emotional tidbits that were subscribed for women,we want them,after all gender equality is the new way of living and everyone can be whatever they want to be.The strong spines of our fathers died with them.




The rabbit hole i fell into led me to some big places in small crevices.The idea of a whole person with dreams and aspirations must have something or someone to believe in,this could be a code to live by or theories that explain loosely how we came to be,and our purpose on this rock.

The more learned members of our civilizations inform us about the BIG LIE,the elusive unconfirmed truth,who is really in control,

He wakes up everyday already wired for monotony,the fire that drove him to reach out slowly dying in smoldering pieces of self doubt and a dull ache in his throat.He looks through his window,out to the world he is about to slip by and evade till past noon or four.The videos he watches about solitude and getting on with fellow man insist that he should first look in the mirror and smile.See the wonder in his own eyes,believe again.

The only information to rest his weary unresponsive brain is that there is no upside,there is only the one way through the muck and shit that is everyday anecdotes of life and happiness induced by opiates.

“happiness is nothing”This new age being mumbles to himself,gritting his teeth as he walks past a family of five walking briskly in the morning cold.

He watches them in disgust,not to be confused with envy…no,he hates them because he is them,he is living under the same rules and beliefs.society deemed them all to be who they are,but for who?Did they get the lack of ambition package for self reliance and self worth?is their happiness bound to procreation and the hum drum of daily survival as sheep?

“Fuking humans”he thinks about spitting,he hates spitting.

The main reason for his existence is a mystery to him,he is riding the wave that is life with a proverbial rope tightening on his throat,the stool by his feet creaking under the weight of his unrelenting indifference to existence.

The smile he wore that day was fresh off its wrapper,in mint condition,he got a glance from a young mother and her young daughter,maybe a grin from a young lady who seemed to have squeezed in her tube dress with a gallon of lubricant.His dick taunts him to turn his head,they argue with his reason for a minute before his dark passenger interrupts with another icy grip on his persona.

“what are we doing here stupid”the cool rumble of that voice makes him sick to his stomach,so collected,so at home in his once free mind.

Putting his head down the passenger goes ahead to replay the information he gathered in relation to how meaningless existence is,

“God is dead,you know it,i know it,they all know it.Look at all these sheep,prodding along in lines of misery as they waste their incoherent lives doing nothing for the purpose of nothing…ALL THEY DO IS FUCK!!,they procreate like rats because their god told them to,they believe that bullshit.They waste their lives following rules that make them dumber and more submissive to tyranny and rule,they bend even further to get fucked…they like it…”the voice rings in his ears as he tries to remember any tune about sunshine and rainbows.

“Go ahead asshole,think happy thoughts…bury your head into the quicksand you made,to sink your numb pain. Don’t forget though,i will still be here when you surface again for another glimpse at what could be.’His voice dies out.

Time after time the truth is revealed,moments in time when everything is perfect,when he is present in that one moment,trying to savor this gift,he clings to those moments of heaven for the gloomy days when there is no control.He lives for those moments.




The things we do right after we wake up tell a lot about our state of mind.take my girl for example,she sleeps like she gets paid to do it while i toss and turn like a forsaken lover on their honey moon.I have always hated that journey into nothingness,that six to seven hours when your subconscious lets you know your deepest and darkest fears in the weirdest way possible.

She shakes me out of another world,sweat soaking the sheets with my hands clasped together.She looks worried as i wipe cold beads of sweat off my brow and chest,

“another one of your dreams?”she asks pensively

“yeah…did i wake you?”its a stupid question but i still ask,

“ulikua unatwitch,thought you were fucking someone in your dreams”

“nope…i wasn’t,i was running…”i confirm that real quick.

“from that pussy?”She smiles trying to mask her drowsiness,

“i was actually about to die before you woke me”standing to open the window.

The cold breeze makes short work of the pent up warmth as the rush of cool air brings me back to reality,fully.I try to remember the dream,The intensity of this made up world were all my fears are laid bear.

“What were you running from?”she asks covering up as the room gets colder.

“i don’t know yet…it happened so fast,i was holding someones hand…”

“a girls hand?”she quips with a sly smile

“No…i didn’t see a face,she died though,in my arms i think”the smile disappears.


“We both know my dreams are shit dimples…”i try to lighten the mood as she settles back in bed and beckons for me to join her.

The rest of the night is spend trying to understand the lesson in my dreams and avoiding that damp area on the bed.After a slow morning and two cups of coffee i try to learn more about dreams.Turns out running usually means that there is an issue in my life that i have to resolve or something and then the other dreams about fighting and dying in an alternate universe surrounded by black dongs on fire with dolls in their mouths…

suffice to say,i need to do a little more research and chalk all the weirdness up to a over-active imagination.My girl is kind of used to my trips to the other side,she likes helping me retrace my steps as we marvel at how unpredictable they can all be.As i wake up every other night and compare my unorthodox dreams to my reality,i can relate a few of the quiet lesson and hidden messages my mind tries to force feed my conscious mind and when they get too dark i can always stay up and share in dimples’s perfect sleep.

Avert your eyes…

The fabric that weaves our society together for hundreds of years has been pulled tight,the seams loosening and changing color.

Alighting from my usual matatu after a short uncomfortable ride that can only be described as the battle of cheap perfumes and natural odors accousting my nostrils ,i find myself alone in the real world.Every face is buried deep in small lit screens as fingers jot and slide all over the small mirrors, adding;tagging;liking;commenting and yes judging.I have wondered since that moment of absolute clarity if this is all we are becoming,Avatars of ourselves.

our minds have been overloaded with information we don’t need,i thought the world becoming a village would mean that we all got enlightened by  the knowledge we would share but damn if i ain’t wrong,i am a fellow victim by the way,i am not absolved of this sin against my self.Ever so willingly i would  make sure i keep up with the “queens of twerk world”on Instagram(and yes it is not porn,hell i could go as fare as to call it a talent);The ever changing topics on facebook;the conversations on watsapp(that never happen in real life and yes the videos on you tube.These new waters of adult hood where we make avatars that show every best part of ourselves(whether real or fictional) have guaranteed the end of all physical interactions purely for growth,as “fyebooty”would say on her short videos,”there will always be more coming” or was it cumming,i can’t be sure.

Before i digress into self gratifying explanations i must finish the morning Epiphany that was.My breath was a bit “fumey”thanks to my whiskey ways,the slight hangover warning me of the anguish to come with the raising sun,i check my phone,maybe someone liked my wacky controversial memes about religion or marriage or something,scrolling down my page i see the avatars of people i used to know,everyone always so together and dashing,either on vacation or predicting the interracial babies they would have in the near future and then the always tacky Jesus memes that can bring cash and all the treasures of the land if you just click on the tiny like button,it always feels like another profession of undying love for the super beautiful Caucasian  young man with slightly dialed up gay vibes from his cherry red lips and loose fitted gown,i mean if you want sheep to believe the sacrifice he made don’t make him look like the lead singer of one direction!.

The morning breeze and a sharp hoot from  a on coming motorbike steer me clear from the road as i head towards my prison of choice,staring at my phone as it beeps and chimes messages coming in from groups of people talking about the never ending conversations that surprisingly never happen in real life i feel a lump build in my throat,slowly redirecting the whiskey fumes that try to escape the pit of my belly,

“fucking Monday…”i mutter to myself a bit too loudly.The human in front of me turns to look at the suffering wailing pedestrian.My  eavesdropper friend is carrying digging tools,his shoes retired a few months ago but i guess he never got the memo. The tattered dirty garments that hide his shame dance in the breeze exposing a slightly discolored armpit and of course the stench that resides beneath.My once over is interrupted by his gleaming smile,his brisk walk makes it that i have to walk faster to stay beside him as i marvel at his gift of pure joy.He hums a tune i have never head before before looking at me again only this time he also notices my avatar machine as i try to keep up with the conversations on watsapp or fye’s always moving butt on Instagram,

“buda aje aje”He swings his spade a bit,as if making sure his morning greetings hit home

Poa buda,

“sasa hizo simu zenyu hamuwekagi chini”i think its rhetorical until he moves right into my personal space and smack in the middle of fye’s famous slow twerk.

“Kumbe ni porno”His smile turns into a concentrated scowl  as he tries to make sense of what he is looking at.

“sio porno buda”i try to educate and shake him off.

“ebu nione,si ako uchi huyo msichana?

“huoni amevaa nguo…hiyo hapo juu”regretting my explanation  of the technicalities that come with thongs and g-strings right after they leave my fire hazard mouth

“hako si kameraruka?He refuses to let go as we walk closer together.

My new found friend;the hooting cars;his strong scent and my now throbbing head move in tandem with my conflicted ideologies.I look at his face,all in awe of this morning’s gift of politically correct exotic dancing and realize for the millionth time how much bliss ignorance can be.My new friend pokes at my phone as if tying to get more,more…yup that’s how it starts for all of us.This disposition that is the human condition always wanting more,we can never be satisfied,the monster has to be fed.As we hide behind our online avatars and try to feed our always hungry monsters we forget how to smile.I forget how to smile.




Continuing on with my selective amnesia when it comes to facing certain situations head on,i seem to be in the thick of it no matter what i try.Father hood is a hands on 24-7 gig,yeah…i know what most of my fellow loaded gun slingers are thinking”Aki grow atanitafuta”, well i don’t know what father son movies you have been binge watching but things have changed,a bit too fast for most of us.Kids (especially boys)have become indoctrinated to the mum is everything era,i remember when i was young,dads were super heroes to us,we didn’t care what they did or how much money they made, all that mattered was that these amazing humans were always there for us.Fast forward to today and my niggers are always presented with a blue or red pill,like Neo in the Matrix.You can stay or leave,its up to you…then the punch line, ‘i can do this by myself anyway.’

On that note i met a young lady(call it 35 years…give or take a Brazilian wig) morphed into my life sort of like that auntie who always walked in on you masturbating and told you about blindness and your hands on do it yourself experiments…yeah,that one,this lady was fun and informative.we shared a lot me and her…from loosies to locked lips.I grew from a fidgety unsure lad to terminator two in a heart beat before things began getting awkward.Don’t get me wrong,this was not a money thing no…it was more like am lost,you are lost,lets get lost together.

The most intoxicating thing about my older friend was how perfectly she had compartmentalized her entire life, like one of those build it your self shelves.This was a woman who knew when and with whom she would bear children, no,it was more like borrow sperm from.The decisiveness and math put into planning always seemed to amuse me for some reason.The fact that  she had a husband who to my knowledge didn’t mind that there was a fly in his ointment(yes…pun intended) made no sense whatsoever For the same reason she felt like she was out of control when it came to her sexuality and as a woman who married young this overwhelming feeling of fleeting youth not lived to the fullest or roads not taken created a bond that nearly cost her the sham she called a marriage.And all this because she thought she deserved better.

We all have that thought sometime,something happen to you that creates a base line for how far or low you can go before you snap.For her,being married to a premature ejaculating safety net was not enough,it might have seemed like something small at first,you know,like that weird noise your long time boyfriend makes when he is asleep or that fucked up mole she insists is a beauty spot with three pin like hairs growing out of it.Is it really about self love?,when we choose to not compromise for our children when she gets pregnant ,i mean lots of families back in the day were either planned or just decided on by parents who were looking to make strong alliances,every other party involved just had to wing it till death do them part.The ladies always got the short end of the stick as young girls were married off to be third wives or worse,this way of living created remedies to questions like love and choice but now there is so many options and roads one can take in this age of free thinking.

Now not to stray too far,my ‘young’ friend seemed to be fighting to keep something inside her alive,as complex as her situation seemed it all narrowed down to what she saw when she looked in the mirror.Shrinks tell us that our brains automatically convince us that we are more attractive than we really are as a reflection maybe its meant to make us accept ourselves more or want less from what we perceive to be perfection,like the God theory and that gnawing question about the after life.we choose what to believe to make our lives easier.Husbands and wives choose to cheat to fill a gap they feel should be filled because when they look themselves in the mirror the person staring back at them convinces them that they deserves that specific missing piece in their lives.

The last time i saw my female friend was quite cordial.To be blunt,i believe reason was at play,the adrenaline rush had abated,she did not feel young anymore.After a brief ‘its not you its me’, she was gone,gone back to horrible sex and morbid house wife duties.I am not sure if she found the perfect specimen to make a child with or if she ever cheated again on her cabbage of a husband but as i stand before my mirror butt naked i think i understand now what she felt.With a child out of wedlock and a uncertain happily ever after you start to wonder if the fairy tale ending was just hot shit served with a side of greens.

I am a father,not super dad…definitely not super dad but a father regardless.That fear of change and uncertainty is still there,half the time am just going with the flow but what grounds me to this point in my life is the fact that i know who i am and the person staring back at me on this mirror is okay with that.