Author’s Note: James is IBK. IBK is James. Just a name change because I’m one of those annoying people who likes to change their names on BBM and twitter. Carry on.
An interesting emotion.
It leads to places, good and bad, depending on what you decide to do with it, on the actions it brings about.
Sometimes anger is needed to set you free. It can be the fuel to your drive in getting what you want. But like real fuel, it’s dangerous and can set you ablaze if not handled with caution, if you let it consume you.
I’ve gotten angry a lot lately. Someone I care deeply about said I get mean when I’m angry. I asked what type of mean. Was it cute or scary? He said, “Just mean.”
I try to control my anger, tried to actually. But lately, I’ve kept a looser hold of it, letting it run wild, and the results have been less than ideal. I’ve said things I later regretted. But usually there’s a sense of relief.
See, I don’t know what to do when I suddenly become angry. I question that emotion a lot. Do I really have a right to be angry with this person? Am I not being overly sensitive? Stuff like that. It makes me bottle it up and keep it somewhere. I’m sure most of us know how that ends up. A grand explosion. I had a small explosion this week. It felt good but damage was done. Hopefully it can be repaired.
Then again, sometimes I forget to be angry. Someone does something and I feel a flash of annoyance but it’s so brief, and then, it’s gone and I forget to nurture it. Till much later when nothing can be done about it.
Then there’s me being angry with the ones I love – a curious sensation of push and pull. Attraction and repulsion. I’m angry and so I don’t want to talk to the person, but I love them so I still want to. It leads to other unwanted feelings like feeling weak; but it’s also when I’m very much aware of how much I love the person. Frecks summed it up succinctly when he said, “Is it weird that when I’m mad at you, I still want to hold you?”
Being angry disturbs my peace of mind, but like I said, it can be useful. Sometimes to move forward, your peace of mind needs to be disturbed. You could say I’ve used the past weeks as an experiment on being angry and letting it allow me say what I normally wouldn’t bother to say. I’ve learnt from it and I have little regret. I’ve seen how it has the potential to build and how it can also destroy. I’ll try and put it back in its little box in my head. Hopefully it still fits in there because it seems to have grown. *shrug*
I was with a friend. We were talking and he said he wishes he never gave in to the temptation of being with guys. He said he never would have gotten male exes or a scar on his hand.
Of course I was swift to point out that his sexuality doesn’t have anything to do with the lot he was bemoaning, especially the scar on his hand. You see, my friend is a hoe (he and I joke regularly about it) and he got hands-y with his boyfriend’s friend, and the boyfriend caught them, and in a fit of rage, stabbed my friend in the hand. There’s a nice long scar there.
He said if he was not into guys in the first place, he wouldn’t have been in that situation. I wanted to point out that if he’d betrayed a girlfriend the way he did his boyfriend, her weapon of choice would be acid. It all just boils down to his actions not his sexuality.
It’s nice to push the blame on things that are beyond our control. The devil, the government, other people. Of course they play a part in our tragedies, but it’d be prudent of us to remember we have a part to play in how our lives turn out.
School has been off for a while now but I deliberately decided not to go home for as long as my pockets would allow me. What was I doing in school? Nothing really. I spent most of my days playing Animal Crossing and trying to improve my painting. In between, I got visits from Vhar, my sweetheart (contrary to what public opinion probably is), and I’d follow a friend to go treat dogs and make small cash from there.
Anyway, a family event was looming ahead and I was anxious about going home, because once I got there, it’d probably be hard for me to leave, especially if mother didn’t want me to. I told a friend and he was all like, “I thought you loved going home.”
Well I do. I did. Not so much anymore. The freedom I get in school, I don’t have at home and I’m starting to value that freedom over making mother happy. This feels like me being selfish and it’s wracking me with guilt, especially since I have avoided calling her and stuff. It’s probably silly and I should stop suckling mother’s breast like an overgrown child, but you know.. You know what I mean, right? I’m not a bad guy for wanting to stay back in school where I feel like I can breathe? I’m not wrong for wanting space from the person I love, right?
Anyhoo, I fell sick. It started with a funny sniffle in my sinuses. I told mum because what usually comes next is a fever. She prescribed medication for me but I think I was too late because the fever came anyway. I called her to tell her and she instantly got upset and asked me why the fuck I was still in school (I’m sure she’s been bursting to ask me that) and that I should get my sorry ass home that instant (not in such flowery terms but her tone sounded like that). And me, Momma’s boy that I am, I stood at attention and started to pack even though I had been complaining to a friend moments ago that I was too weak to do anything. In the end, I settled back in bed and called to tell her I couldn’t start flying bus and cab to get home, this in a bid to postpone my departure. And she was like, “Well I’m coming to get you.”
I guess she meant business. She did come to get me. She came with a guy I call Uncle. I kissed her on the cheek in greeting, had the car’s air conditioning turned off because fever tinz, and we were soon headed home. On the way, my uncle started to jab at me that I was sick because I miss my female bestie (Lola). He said things like I am in love with her and because of a recent falling out between us, I’d fallen sick. I had mentioned over and over prior to that time that me and Lola were just very good friends but he’d chosen to ignore that. So I resigned to just hmming and aaahing.
I guess it’s just human nature to try and normalize you even when you resist being normal.
And the funny thing about this uncle is that I suspect he’s pretty bisexual, and that he can smell the gay off me. He’s married with a big-chested wife and I’ve seen nudes of her before. Her boobs looked really soft and tender… But I digress. So yes, I think he’s bi; the gay in him makes him keep touching me, a liberty he doesn’t take with my brothers.
He’d deliberately attempt to barge into the bathroom while I’m naked, and if I have a towel around my waist, he’d attempt to remove it. He’d tweak my nipples and stuff like that, and I can’t help but think that if I was a poor defenseless lad, he’d probably molest me a lot more than that.
One time he was dropping me off at school and he was asking me questions about my love life. Then he asked me if I was gay. He however didn’t wait for an answer before moving on to the next question. As if he was hinting that he knew I wasn’t straight.
I’m keeping my distance from him. I don’t want wahala and my instincts tell me he’s full of it.
So I’m home now. The guilt I thought I’d feel hasn’t come yet and I’ve told my mum I’m returning to school after the family event is over. She didn’t want me to but I’ve cooked up some excuses. Honestly I don’t do anything here in this sleepy town except surf the net (network is sweet here; at midnight, it’s like surfing with 4G on MTN). I don’t do much in school either but I feel like not doing much at school is better than not doing much at home. Besides nobody is going to bother me about how messy my room is, why I don’t seem to have any friends or why I’m coming back home late, etc.
I’m pretty sure my parents know I love them and I’m not abandoning them… Well at least I hope they do.
Written by IBK