I am pretty sure that the man in the great looking suit is as clueless as I am. At least that is what I like to think. That even though he might put up a gallant stance and when we do speak, he might be the perfect gentleman with fine manners. He might sweep me off my feet with his chivalrous words and I would whisper most seductively.
"You are far too kind" Flipping my invisible mane from the nape of my neck.
He might have that spiky blonde or black locks tied into a ponytail but if you ask me, needs a great deal of wash. I can hardly hold up my distance beside him because of the stench from those dreads. I would like to think that such a fetid
smell is as a result of his mind spacing. You should tell me, if a man so good looking and gorgeous, would forget for days to give his hair the decency of a wash. I would like to know what you think.
I should let you know, its only my imaginations running wild again. And if I'm to put it to work, I would have it that we take the same bus. So here we go, we took the bus together today like we always do. He had his hands in his pocket with his messenger bag swung across his shoulder. And with the side of my eyes, I peeked and I was right. He was starring into thin air. I would like to think the bus driver was having a bad day or how do I explain such recklessness? My bus friend was unto his knees before I knew it. I was shy now. For I didn't ask for a proposal, neither was he ready to offer one. He was startled, lifting himself up while putting twice as much weight to his left knee. He finally got up and like I said, he was a gentleman so he spoke and apologized the way a gentleman did.
And then I became wrapped up in my thoughts after I dismissed his apology with a wave of the hand. I became cold, shivers of anxiety ran down my spine.
"Amazing! Amazing!" I uttered like mad men do "Bloody ass sayers of gibberish" I yelled at no one in particular. Not even my bus friend who seemed outwardly to have life figured out. But deep down, inwardly, I knew my contempt was directed to no one other than the media.
"To the media?" You ask. "How convenient?"
But I tell you, weren't they the ones that propagated the doctrine that youths, teenagers can't figure out life on their own? And to think I have carried such a burden all life, etching those words in my heart and regurgitating it.
"Yeah we youths are clueless. We do not know what life is. You've lived it all I presume?" So why do some of you harbour uncertainties? Why would a thirty year old still live in the basement of his mom's house? Why would he continue to party like he just became sixteen once again? Why does he keep changing profession and blame it on recession?
So here is my teeny bit of advise. Its more than okay to be clueless, affright and confused. Cluelessness often leads to the posing of questions. Questions in turn leads to the pathway of knowledge and later on, the discovery of answers. So be sure not to single yourself out as the only clueless one because we all are equally clueless.
He might have that spiky blonde or black locks tied into a ponytail but if you ask me, needs a great deal of wash. I can hardly hold up my distance beside him because of the stench from those dreads. I would like to think that such a fetid
smell is as a result of his mind spacing. You should tell me, if a man so good looking and gorgeous, would forget for days to give his hair the decency of a wash. I would like to know what you think.
I should let you know, its only my imaginations running wild again. And if I'm to put it to work, I would have it that we take the same bus. So here we go, we took the bus together today like we always do. He had his hands in his pocket with his messenger bag swung across his shoulder. And with the side of my eyes, I peeked and I was right. He was starring into thin air. I would like to think the bus driver was having a bad day or how do I explain such recklessness? My bus friend was unto his knees before I knew it. I was shy now. For I didn't ask for a proposal, neither was he ready to offer one. He was startled, lifting himself up while putting twice as much weight to his left knee. He finally got up and like I said, he was a gentleman so he spoke and apologized the way a gentleman did.
And then I became wrapped up in my thoughts after I dismissed his apology with a wave of the hand. I became cold, shivers of anxiety ran down my spine.
"Amazing! Amazing!" I uttered like mad men do "Bloody ass sayers of gibberish" I yelled at no one in particular. Not even my bus friend who seemed outwardly to have life figured out. But deep down, inwardly, I knew my contempt was directed to no one other than the media.
"To the media?" You ask. "How convenient?"
But I tell you, weren't they the ones that propagated the doctrine that youths, teenagers can't figure out life on their own? And to think I have carried such a burden all life, etching those words in my heart and regurgitating it.
"Yeah we youths are clueless. We do not know what life is. You've lived it all I presume?" So why do some of you harbour uncertainties? Why would a thirty year old still live in the basement of his mom's house? Why would he continue to party like he just became sixteen once again? Why does he keep changing profession and blame it on recession?
So here is my teeny bit of advise. Its more than okay to be clueless, affright and confused. Cluelessness often leads to the posing of questions. Questions in turn leads to the pathway of knowledge and later on, the discovery of answers. So be sure not to single yourself out as the only clueless one because we all are equally clueless.
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