I am in Windhoek.
This seems to be a place where every time I visit I tend to think a lot in the days leading up to my departure.
I’ve realized I could not live here. I feel unsafe and do not want to become a part of the social scene. It all seems very segregated with people constantly trying to be above each other when really they ain’t shxt.
There is the place called Warehouse that apparently is full if people with problems. Everyone there is basically drinking away borrowed money. Wannabe transgender social climbers, lairs, lonely fun seeking white men, etc. call it home. I hate it. I’ve probably been there 4 times now and I dislike that I am recognizable and probably the subject of ponder. It reminds me of Linga Longa in Gabz. (of which I am thankfully banned from)
Along with that, I have somehow found myself in a committed week long relationship. (a cuddle gone wrong)
Here’s what I’ve learnt; I like to protect and bathe people in affection and consideration. To have them as my own and to be their provider/confidant. Perhaps I should be a dad. But I have become so comfortable with my own space and myself that I don’t want to compromise. To be accommodating, yes but my standards like the view from the top.
It feels good to finally have the desire to write again though I haven’t got to experience much of what I enjoy doing so that is my mission for the remainder of these days. Plus I’ve discovered things about myself and people that have been brought to the forefront. I believe them.
I am closer to being aware of my AURA but still don’t know what it feels like on other people. Self-awareness is much healthier than cockiness.
Anyway, “Never a failure, always a lesson.”
Oh, and I still don’t give a shxt about poetry. Oops….