Wearing my loafers, scarf down to the knees. All black. Obviously feeling good – obviously looking good. I just finished a good and progressive meeting. 4 PM on a groovy Saturday – restaurants are filled with girls on fleek. Hello girls, can I come join you? But there is only money to get home; therefore it’s the only way I can head.
Two robots down, I see a Tswana traditional dancing group, killing it. I stop to enjoy the spectacle. I have some coins I can donate. But I won’t. I need them to get internet data. ** I realize I am actually being treated to a beautiful performance for free – and I am not going to donate a cent to these kids. This is one of the times when you realize life is good. Walking around town is beautiful. Free entertainment galore.
Before you cry the face cringes and closes up. Then it squeezes the tears out from the eyes. I cringe most times with the hope of crying out my challenges in life – the tears never come. Crying remains a wish.
But some January I cried it out. Some stuff happened; I was liable to pay. A girl l dug said no to me. These, plus accrued perceived misfortunes – including a lot of accrued debt, sent me to the highest depressive hills.