Pride made me do it.

See the babe in the corner full of hopes that this romance will flourish. I know it will, but the purpose was mistaken. It was the peer pressure killing me inside. Having to own something not because you liked it but because it boosted your status. Status in the society, in it was hope that now I could focus on more important issues than this. But, like a fiddle lamp, the wick was about to burn out. Her only way out was to wait till it faded into a million pieces and no feelings were to be harmed, then and only then to disappear to oblivion.

Oh, she is beautiful! In the melanin kind of way, her eyes have that radiance of a queen specifically Queen of the Nile, Cleopatra. Kind of a Julius Caesar to leave it in the hands of Marc Anthony. Piece by piece I fall apart. Like the game of Jenga, my behaviours turn erratic as I discover the game being played on me and my patience weakens on how it unfolds. Full of rage I charge at the beauty of my heart. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Am I dumb to that extent? Is my chagrin monotonous that you have found it best to seek ‘fertile lands’?

I don’t blame you. Pride made me do it!

Looking outside my window is a German escape matrix I acquired a few months ago. This has the ability of 520 horses, with a sleek aerodynamic design that ensures I fly from 0 to 100 in the break of 5.3 seconds. Its stability maintains contact with the ground even at higher speeds around the corners. But do I need this? I never had the desire to acquire one of these. But in a certain meeting, all my peers were discussing their machines and I was left aback when in my turn to speak I had to be left behind as the topic of discussion didn’t correspond to my experience.

Well, well, well in the demeanour of this little conversation, I vowed to appease my spirit the following morning. I headed to the showroom, had a few test rides and took a baby home. I let the window open and let the gushing wind boost my testosterone—such a wondrous feeling of adventure. I arranged an impromptu meeting with the same friends as yesterday and somehow managed to offset my balance of not owning a machine the previous night. This pressure was now satisfied. Was it my pressure or some imaginary pressure that couldn’t wait to be put off? Truly, pride made me do it.

Rented apartments usually have smaller toilets and most of their designs are ambiguous. Words that my dad told me as we sat in our family home while roasting some pig. It was the day before New Year’s Eve. It took a toll on me like the words uttered before the gavel falls down and judgment is pronounced to the court. I now notice how bland my entrance porch is. With no sign of life whatsoever. The curtain now disdains my soul as they are now faded, the colour of the walls in the stair is just pure disgust. My bedroom is cramped with stuff that air will one day choke me off. The cushions of my sitting room sofa are no longer as fluffy and thick as they used to be.

My once white carpet has a blend of rainbow colours, some brown here a bit of yellow in a corner and grey all over the underside. The lighting itself is done in a survivorship manner. Shadows are cast all over my dining table that I have to supplement with additional light bulbs at given intervals. Pride made me do it. Plans of my house were drafted after I had held in my hands the title to the purchased piece of land in the third month of the year. And within 6 months I was in my own pride-filled house. A relief you say?

I had to dance to the tune of the momentary jolts of energy. Pressure everywhere that I lost touch with what I wanted. Very unlikely of me, pressure is good. I am proud of myself.

Pride Made Me Do It.