When the river overflows, it eventually breaks it banks. That thing I call, bake and break, so you hold on to crap, they call you sometime when it’s convenient and beneficial. And the empath in you always feels obliged to show up. This one night, sounding quirky and messed up, they call for a 2$ bill. Eager and half worried you show up for them. Every time they show up at your door, broken into a million pieces, you pick them up and fix them so well. But then one day, you overflow and eventually your banks break.

To the good friends we have, to the good friends we lost Bob Marley sentiments; life probably narrows down to three things.

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Goodness. I have come to appreciate the kind of people who call you to just check up on you, the special breed of people that actually quip after you,’ Text when you get home!’ These people and avocados, have a special place in heaven. Those humble ninjas, who stop at the Zebra crossing to let you cross because it’s raining and you are trying to grow an Afro, God bless the hell out of you. You are good people.

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Kindness. This one time, in a point of self indulgence a friend and I picked up the partiality between being kind and good. Whether you can be good, without being kind or rather the later. There was every temptation to lean towards kindness and goodness as a two-tier handshake. The tie, was broken. Goodness is almost inborn, rudimentary and all, while kindness is basically a choice. Small acts of kindness, like helping a blind man cross the road, helping a child alight the car. Those are.

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Accountability. Responsible is too ancient a word to embody all that accountability would. When you mess up, real bad do you look at the man in the mirror and reckon, ‘You’ve messed up, bro!’ Or do you flip the pages and play the ultimate game, blame. An old soul once told me, if you don’t self reflect and self correct, you haven’t grown. Every man is blind to their own faults, we are more glad to bake than break the cake. We hide our faults and flaws under the sugar, the icing and toppings. But when the cake breaks,do we have the courage to introspect?

Shauna Niquiest pens in her soul-piece, Bittersweet that cooking for those you love is actually a way of expressing your love for them. But that’s all we do, cook and cook. Baking is that hiding behind good friends, wearing the urban paranoia mask, cutting ourselves into pieces so we can fit into people’s expectations. When we hide the skeletons in the closet, we keep on breaking each other into pieces. So we have hollow people walking around, pretending to be effing strong while all that is beneath, the hollowness is broken pieces.