My freshman year in university, I stayed at this
hostel. Everything was oh so new to me. Unlike high school, I knew no one,
which made the experience a tad bit more scary for me. All the same I had
learnt to put on a brave face, and analyze people before I knew who to keep as
a friend and who would maintain acquaintance status and who to avoid all
together.
I had this room that I maintained throughout my
freshman year. it was simple, humble even. It Fit all my stuff quite well,
though I have to mention it being my first year, my stuff was not that much. But
the one thing I loved most about it was that it had a secret inner room that
most who had never been to my room did not know existed. It was my own little
haven.
It was narrow and small, but big enough to fit a chair
next to my bed. At the foot of bed was space for all my dirty laundry which
would always pile up. I’m not really a fan of washing. The walls were bare and
I never had the urge to fix them. There was just something about them and me
staring at them that I liked. That and whenever I switched on the laptop, the
light would illuminate the entire place, and I could fall asleep. I have never
really gotten over my night terrors of monsters and creatures lurking in the
shadows. The light was calming. And it lasted long enough for me to fall
asleep.
Let me try paint the picture. When I was in my 3 feet
by 6 feet bed which was pushed to the left corner of the room, on my left was a
yellowy white wall with a large window that began from around where knees
began. Low enough for me to see outside while sitted in bed. On my right was
space where I fit my plastic chair. It was a screaming blue. But you could not
really see that. It was always covered with dirty clothes and my laptop. Then
the wall that ran all the way to the door which was at the very corner. That
wall is where I would put up my first painting. It was a drawing that Brian
drew for me the first time he’d slept over and stayed the day. It was an
elephant. It was very hurriedly drawn in a black pen on a piece of paper that
could have been scrap paper. It was silly but it felt nice just having someone
do that for me. I hang it up on that wall. The only thing I have ever put up on
my wall.
I was worried of what my boyfriend would think. But
something inside me just did not care. It was a relationship that had been over
for a while, just that neither of us wanted to be the one that bailed. The bad
relationship had taken its toll on me. But still I kept a brave face. Breaking
down only to my pillow late at night, the type of hours that I would not be
getting any guests to be just passing by. Every night without fail, I could not
stop it. I broke down and screamt the type of scream that only I could hear.
And the tears burned down my face, each salty tear worse than the first. He was
not entirely to blame. Just that he was not helping the situation. But it was
never his burden to handle. It had always been mine. And I handled it by
myself.
I wish I could do that now. Just cry myself to sleep
every night till I feel better. Or the feelings pass. I want to let go, but I
feel so grounded. This pain hurts n hurts relentlessly. Never letting up. Most
times I can hide it. But when im alone is the worst. Fighting myself from
breaking down. I don’t want to shed tears for this man that doesn’t want me
back. What can I do? What is there to do?
Digression. My room. It feels somewhat just like that.
My bed is bigger and so is the room. But the feeling lingers. Especially with
him in it. We feel good together. I could almost say perfect. But it is like he
doesn’t feel it. He has been living this entire double life all this time….
