I stand for the broken in the society, those who have been crushed into pieces, the ones who have a taken a beating one too many by this life. These are courageous humans who tried to love instead they hurt in return. Those who trusted and got betrayed, those who believed and failed. Sometimes, the world has to break you open so that your glow lights up the world. Sometimes. But most times, pain teaches you something. The bittersweet innuendo that is life, sculpts you into the idol you were meant to be.
Believe you me, I am not spewing any negative energy here. In fact, I am celebrating this bittersweet life because it has jagged me a little. Like you, I haven’t had it easy. No, I have experienced delay, loved a person more than I should and knew no humility. But life can humble you at times. Now I am that kind of a friend, who would help you pack a bag and take that long introspective ride to the rehab. If you called me in the wee hours of the morning, I would pull up my car (the one that is in the showroom) in front of the police station, sigh, and bail you out. Then I would give you two or three days to cool off and call you, we laugh about it over coffee.
Life gets you there, heartbreaks too. Disappointments and betrayal will send you to an asylum. It is okay to break down for a while. It is okay to withdraw into yourself and find your light again. For me, I throw myself a pity party for a day or more, whine in regret and drink a cup of my tears. After a while, pick myself up, dust it off and keep going. So, when the question of compassion comes up, always remember everyone is dealing with something. And for yourself, you are not your pain, like the rain falling on you, you are not the raindrop.
I know the last time we talked, I made a vow, a very big commitment that I am still solemnly loyal to. You have to understand that word painters like Biko Zulu exert too much pressure on writers like me. They paint a make-believe that writers have this amazingly beautiful lifestyle. What they share is just a smoke-screen that covers up for the murky struggles of artists. Truth is, we write from creative spaces that are either euphoric or otherwise. Insights come, others are elusive and quickly fleet by. The God inside us, the muse comes and goes. If the divine in us is shaken or imbalanced, there is no inspiration, no muse. It is just a blank page, it is