I have this thing that I do every morning that very few people know about. I wake up at the crack of dawn (I’m lying, it’s not at the crack of dawn, it’s more of the thigh area of dawn, just below the crack.) I go for a walk and think about which is my greatest fear between giant homosexual frogs who are attracted to humans and true love?
Love is dangerous, it spreads over the mind unbeknownst to you, the mind, same place where all decisions are made. You find yourself choosing someone the first time, let’s say you have your phone in hand and them in your mind so you say, ‘Let me text them.’ or ‘Let me have a wank to their profile picture.’ Then you choose them again at another time, and they slowly encompass your entire being until you find you can’t live without them, then losing them becomes a very potent fright. Sad thing is, if you focus on your fear you will bring it into fruition. You will lose the person you love and your mind will become fractured, like broken glass. But how can you not focus on your fear? That’s like ignoring the sun. It’s quite the conundrum. But on the other hand giant homosexual frogs are quite terrifying.
I was walking towards my usual chill out spot where I often come to the conclusion that the giant frogs trump love when I found a friend of mine already seated there, on the makeshift wooden bench facing an unsowed farm.
I smiled at Evanso when I saw him, there was always this cheer he brought. Like a clown at a party, his nose was big too, just like a clown’s, so were his shoes. He had a smile that could temporarily make you forget your woes. If I was ravaged by several giant homosexual frogs and I came across Evanso, for a moment I will forget the amount of money I’d need for therapy when he smiled.
“Evanso.” I said with a smile while taking the seat beside him. “It’s a beautiful morning, aye?” Evanso didn’t answer. That’s when I noticed his usual smile wasn’t there, he looked at the ground like a gold miner would at a lump of shit, hoping it would turn to gold. “The frogs will take years before they are human sized, and even then it’ll be a while longer before they are sentient enough to have a sexual preference.” I said.
He turned to me, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asked.
And that’s the thing about that question. It sends me spiraling within myself. What exactly is wrong with me? If offered the chance to bang Beyoncé or Hilary Clinton, I have a feeling I’ll choose Hilary. There’s just something that’s wrong with me, it’s not even a matter of their age, it’s just political intrigue, a certain fetish like lure to politics. Given a choice between Vera Sidika and Martha Karua, I’d choose Martha.
There is something wrong with me and I knew that if I thought about it long enough I’ll discover other things that are wrong with me so I turned the question back on Evanso. “What is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you?” There, sent him into his own spiral as he sought to do me.
Evanso sighed and turned his head back to the ground. “I’m insecure.” He said.
I did not expect that answer. I did not! I just always thought when such a question would be posed that its answer wouldn’t be so direct. I realized then that Evanso might be more than the clown he resembled, he may be something bigger. Like a philosopher or something. A philosophical clown!
“What’s making you insecure?” I asked. I was quite interested in hearing the reason. I hoped it wasn’t something relationship based. Insecurity is most of the time based on relationships, it’d be quite amazing if the insecurity didn’t stem from relationships —
“It’s my girlfriend.” Evans said and I deflated, like a balloon popped by a clown. “She texted me that she’s going drinking with some guy yesterday. Told her it was okay because I didn’t want to come off as clingy and controlling. Waited for her texts for majority of the night, she didn’t text. Tried calling this morning. She didn’t answer.” He sighed.
And there, my first fear coalesced before my eyes, pushing the giant homosexual frogs to the back. Seeing the bags beneath Evanso’s eyes, I understood a sleepless night when I saw one. And his hands were clenched into fists, as if pain had translated to rage and the only way it could be expelled is with the threat of violence. I was suddenly afraid he’d punch me if I said something wrong.
I don’t like being punched. The first time I was punched was by a girl called Cindy back in class three. She saw me holding hands with a girl called Sandy, walked over to me and hit me in the nose. I felt very proud of myself, I thought she had a crush on me. Turns out she had a crush on Sandy.
“Insecurity huh.” I said. It’s not something wrong to say that, just make sure there is no humor in your tone, that way you don’t get punched.
“You know what irks me, Kyalo?” Evanso asked. I wanted to say ‘Insecurity.’ but I realized such an obvious answer would touch on humor, so I kept silent. “What bothers me,” He went on. “Is the feeling. Like, every thought has been about her since yesterday, rage, denial, hope, love, fear then rage again, and all of them in the negative aspects. I tell myself, if she cheats on me, I’ll get angry and use said anger to leave her. Then I ponder on what it’d feel like to lose her, then I deny the fact that she might have cheated, that she might be asleep or something and her phone stolen. Then I find myself hoping that’s the case which brings back memories of the love we share and this brings fear of loss, which in turn becomes rage at her cheating and throwing away what we have. It’s like a circle.”
God, he was a Philosophical clown! I had to offer him advice, I felt like I had a duty to him somehow. But what exactly can I say about insecurity? It’s something I avoid thinking about. That’s why the whole giant homosexual frogs thing is quite scary for me, I don’t like therapy, I prefer to avoid facing traumatic thoughts than facing them. Something horrific in your life happens and you opt to confront it? What am I, Tarzan? Best to ignore it. Act like it never happened. You’re gonna die soon anyway, why waste time confronting terrifying thoughts? Use the time you have now to stop frog evolution. Focus on what matters.
But Evanso needed me damn it! He looked so lost, like a mangy mutt with three legs. God, I felt like petting him but I also feared fleas. As if touching him might send his trauma my way.
“Fuck.” I said.
Evanso turned to me. His pupils were really large, he looked like he would start crying at any moment. “Why did you curse?”
“Because I want to help you but it’ll cost me.” I said.
“How?”
“The same thing that is happening to you happened to me. I have been where you’re at.”
“Did she cheat?” Evanso asked.
“Yes.” I said.
“Fuck.”
“And no.”
“What?”
“I’ve been in several relationships. In some of them I’ve been insecure and the girls didn’t cheat. In others I was insecure and the girls cheated. And in others I was insecure and never found out whether the girl cheated or not.” I paused. Finally grasping the advantage of having been in plenty of relationships, it’s like a recurring lesson, training on a topic until you’ve perfected it, or believed you’ve perfected it. “And in the latter relationships before I took on the life of a celibacy, I was insecure but it was a weak sort of insecurity, something easily ignored like thoughts of having anal sex with giant frogs.”
“So you know how to end this… this… feeling?” Evanso wondered, his face full of hope, and then his brows scrunched up quizzically. “Wait, anal sex with giant frogs?”
“I know how to end this, I just dive into myself and try to figure out the exact moment insecurity became weak.” I said. “This will take a moment.” I closed my eyes and thought about love and the image of a woman came to mind, a woman who is everything and more. I eased from love into thoughts of fear of losing her to someone else and there, insecurity availed itself.
“Insecurity avails itself from comparison.” I said, I find it easy to speak while tackling my thoughts, speaking the thoughts aloud enables you to better ponder on the next thought. So mostly I speak to myself, which is not something I advice you to do in public. You’ll be one of the reasons weed isn’t legalized.
“You’re insecure because you compare yourself to the person you believe might take your place in her life. The reason you believe they might take your place in her life, is because you find yourself lacking in a compartment they might excell at. You might consider them more financially secure, or more attractive or taller or charming or any one of those things people consider in a valid mate.” I said.
“Huh.” Evanso pondered. “I think for me it’s financial. Couldn’t afford to be close to her last night, and another could.”
“Yeah. It’s mostly always financial. The ability to provide is considered to be quite a powerful motivator for ensnaring a heart.” I said. Felt a pang of pain as always with that hypothesis. That’s the thing about diving into your past to confront shit, like fucking Tarzan. Swinging on the vines of your neural network, hollering like a banshee on your way to confront your terrible thoughts. Sure you’ll heal yourself and shit but you’ll come out scathed, a thought that causes pain will hurt you again. It’s like placing your finger into a candle’s flame to see if it’ll burn.
“Fuck.” Evanso lamented.
“But,” I broke into a smile. “Financial stuff is only one aspect, one attribute, no matter how significant it is, it’s only one aspect of something that might ensnare a heart. And the reason your woman is with you, is because of a collection of attributes, things you excel at beyond other men.” I paused. “And other women.” I patted his head. “So you see, you’re insecure because of the one part you lack in, forgetting the other parts you excel at.”
“But what if she still cheats?” Evanso pressed. And that’s the ugly thing about insecurity, it fight backs. That’s why it’s a waste of time confronting it, every solution is met with adversity.
“Then it means the man she’s cheated on you with might be better for her, for he might be actually better than you in more than the financial aspect, better than you to an extreme degree.”
“Better… than… me?”
“It means she’ll be happier.” And I lowered my hand from his head and squinted at him. The hard squint, the kind you give your child when they poop on the sofa and use the curtain to wipe their bum and they hold it up to you with pride thinking you’d be proud of them for using a tissue, not knowing the difference between a tissue and a curtain. I gave Evanso that look that meant business.
“In this world you must be certain that there’s someone better than you out there. A better writer, painter, architect, Data analyst, Porn star, Drug addict, Prostitute. Someone who is a better match for your woman than yourself. That’s the hard part about relationships, always trying to prove that the version of yourself that you are is the best someone deserves, hoping the whole time no one offers better. If you truly love her, you’ll take consolation that she’s found better, then you move on and do what everyone does to get over someone.”
“Which is?”
“Get on top of someone else.”Evanso tilted his head back and laughed, and there, amidst the turmoil that had assailed him for the better part of twelve hours, a brief glimpse of sunshine availed itself. That clown smile of his spread over his face after his laugh came to a wheezy end. And I felt certain that seeing the smile when the frogs evolve into giant amphibian homosexuals with human preference, it would be quite a big refuge for me.
Penguin On Crack 