THE TRUTH SHALL SET YOU FREE We are all liars. We lie to each other everyday. I’ve told so many lies in my few years under our Earth’s sun! Lies I didn’t have to tell. I’ve lied for fun, and for revenge. I never lie because I need to. I, in fact, tell the absolute truth in circumstances where anyone else would’ve lied. Are you cheating? Yes. Do you smoke weed? Yes. Are you gay? No, I’m bisexual. There other lies though, the unnecessary ones, they’ve added up and they’re weighing me down. They’re sooo many! Too many. And lately I feel like a weird amalgam of Jim Carrey in Liar Liar and Eddie Murphy in 1000 words. I have very few words left in my repertoire and they can only be truths. I came to a self realization two nights ago, about why I started writing again. As always, when it comes to women, it involves a guy. The love of my life this one, and he disappointed me. Oh how he disappointed! I wanted to punish him. No, no, no guys, nothing bdsm-y here. Not hurt him, but punish, teach him something. That’s where life’s lessons come from, you know? From punishment. All the consequences of your actions are basically just you being punished. Life isn’t a bitch, it’s a mother. I needed him to know exactly why we didn’t work out. All our fights towards the end didn’t quite drive the point in. It wasn’t all just for him though…no. I was also for my next, and for the one after that. I need to work out at some point… We keep on being told that communication is key to the success of any relationship. People interpret this as an outpouring of words, any words, aimed at a loved one. Those words don’t have to be true or hold any real meaning to you. Talk, talk, talk, but we’re all saying nothing. Just saying a bunch of random nonsensical words to this loved one should make a difference, because, hey! Communication is everything! You can probably tell that this strategy didn’t work out for me. I have been lying to the men in my life. They know a version of me that’s faker than Nikki Minaj’s ass. It was fun for a while, lying. It was also safe. They couldn’t reject me if they didn’t know me. If we broke up it wasn’t because they didn’t like me, it was this other person they couldn’t stand. I’m tired now. I can no longer act. I’m no good at it. So I’ve decided to be honest. To be myself in all my nasty glory. Atakaye nipenda anipende nilivyo. I’m too lazy to tell each guy that comes along all that I am and have been. I’d much rather talk about tomorrow and who I want to become. I need them to know in advance who they’re dealing with. So, I’m writing it all down once and for all. Do you want to know me? Read me. I promise that it’s the truth and nothing but. This is why I tell you exactly what’s on my mind. No frills, no masks, no corsets, no make up. I give you my thoughts unadorned and it just so happens that what’s usually on my mind is sex 🙂 I couldn’t hide it anymore. I’m always thinking about sex. I reckon I have been since I discovered the minx within my nappy. My curiosity about sexual nature is boundless and I’ve only just unleashed it. How much harm do we do ourselves and because we’re afraid to show our true faces? I’m freaky, I know that, I always have. I insinuate it to my partners but never really elaborate on how deep the freakishness goes. I’m a coward in that respect. Allowing what others might think to dictate how I live my life. Do you like feet a little too much? Do you find the sight of blood arousing? Are you a bisexual male? Are you into women with armpit hair? Do you like doggie but loathe going on top? Hate sucking tits but cum when a woman farts during? ‘How freaky can you get?’ is the game we should be playing in our relationships. Hii mambo ya kujificha inatuumiza!