Nobantu Shabangu

I have decided to push the bed against the wall, it is better there and the room seems to have more space. The city never sleeps, I know it sounds clichéd but I woke up at half six and not because I wanted to but because taxi horns were having a rave of a time in the traffic- that was at six in the morning. It is now five to ten at night and there is no traffic but every now and then a car zooms by and homeless people are busy shouting at each other.
The view is amazing.
I have a tiny writing desk, a tiny fridge, a tiny microwave and a tiny bed. It makes me really proud of myself these small things; they are a foundation of the new me. My first night was last night and it was amazing because Xoli and I met two friendly gentlemen who by some chance happened to come up to our room and we had a mini room opening. I call it that because it is not a house nor is it a flat, it’s a room of my own to do whatever I want with it and I have been spending hours thinking of how I can spill my colourful thoughts on all these walls.
Xoli is amazing; my love for her cannot be quantified, she loves me and I know it because her actions manifest this unseen thing called love.
I am alone and unafraid, I believe at this juncture life has shown me flames, flames of a fire I never knew as a child I would have to fan out. I thought I lost my innocence ten years ago when my mother died but here it is happening again. I have lost my father, I am officially an orphan, and my life is unraveling in both good and bad ways. At least with all this shit happening I have a good view of the city. I am on the seventh floor; from up here I can see my fellow humans with all their unknown pains and anguish scurrying about like ants working hard at this thing called life. Life does not stop, and why should it? Look at the pavement: a tiny yellow flower has managed to grow through the cement paving- how amazing is nature? That flower is delicate, one step of my tiny foot and it is dead and yet somehow from when it was a seed it managed to peak through a very very hard surface. Makes you wonder what it is that makes us humans stronger and what is that makes us weaker. I would think a perspective on life makes us stronger or weaker. We can choose to make a situation benefit us or hinder our growth. I know many think how do you see the good side of death? Well you think of your life and what you have achieved and what you still need to achieve, once you’ve done this you should be buzzing with life. Yes it is sad that the person you loved is gone and you can no longer interact with them but that does not mean you should spend your days being morose, no, it means living life as if they were still alive; live in honour of the dead person you claimed to love so much.
I believe the saddest part about death is unfinished business with the deceased; personally when my mother passed I was just beginning to understand the kind of person she was and I was in the state of becoming; in a year if she were granted it, my mother and I would have gotten to know each other well because we were both at the state of our lives where, I believe we could truly be honest with each other. The same with my father, I wanted to show him that he was truly inspirational and that I was a grown woman, an adult and it was in major part because of him. I can lament all I want but what’s best is to live in honour of both their lives.
I have come to realise that some adults have been hardened by life and no longer possess the feeling of sympathy which is why I sometimes do not tell people that both my parents are dead. Most of the time they think I get along well because I have the support of these two people but it is not so, I get along with life, albeit not well, but I get along nonetheless because I get up and do what needs to be done.
I have come to my own and I never knew I could be this fearless. I am slowly accepting myself for who I am even though it is really difficult. I feel at times that I need to please society and its rigid structures that do not serve me but serve the function for simple thinking, complacency and uniformity for the human race. To learn that I am on the periphery of what is supposed to be a fully functional society has scared me, to learn that I do not subscribe to the gender binary or sexual binary has also terrified me. Of course this is not news to me because I’ve known this for over a decade and have finally accepted it. I believe I am not sick or demon possessed- I am just me and it time to live to that truth even if it may hurt those I love most. And besides if it hurts them then it means they do not love me most, which hurts me.
I am about to go to sleep except there is a big fat fly circling my room- I have to kill it. I wish someone would hit it for me, I wish someone would warm the bed for me. Where are all the dykes in this city?