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If we never met? 

There'd be a me still, more stressed, laughing less with no smile to look forward to. Picture that, an anxious me, stagnant paralyzed in the same place with no awkward memory like how I met you. I think I've stopped wishing for things to happen. I want things I can have now. Your energy, your hand, your hair, your smile... 

I think I'm ahead of myself sometimes. I know my patterns. As many times as I can I'll do it, preach to people that don't know me about habits and patterns and how I'll never bend to that silliness again. It is a form of consistency and commitment that does not appeal to me, and yet here we are again, same damn thing just a different year and in the middle of a global pandemic to top it all off. Congratulations Miss Thang! At this point we might as well just raise a glass champaign darling like Leonardo DiCaprio and toast to me because yes ladies and gentlemen, Katleho has done it again, fallen in the hole of LDs.

I realise I've resurrected a demon, well, this one is more like a brother to my old one truthfully but birds of a feather, and and and. 

There are countless ways to fuck up your life, you know? I've always said the fastest way to die is to fall, fiercely without remorse. Now picture this, boy and girl meet one drunken night, boy and girl hit it off and turn into "likers" of one another that can't become "lovers". There's a wall, just as big as the one in China (the wall is in fact China) and that's the fuckery in the story. An entire continent came, it huffed and puffed and at this point I figure it might as well blow both me my house down in one wave. By far the greatest fuck up of my life since December, 31st 2016, only because I cannot take it back.

I'll take my chaos with a large spoon over this tragedy because, now what? What happens? This particular book really has no title to it. A story with an absent heading. We blindly write ourselves into things we cannot bring to life and see through, and for me, I might not want to. I think the comfort is also crippling, but I realise that enjoying the flow, builds a deep fear of the unknown - ANXIETY. 

So If we never met,

I'd still be spinning and spiraling, asking the universe about someone with his energy, a conversation as unforced as ours and his smile...

The tragedy that comes with attachments: they make for crippled minds and hearts that constantly need to be cradled and reassured. They give way to fears, like mine. It would mean Katleho will feel everything again, their ouch, she'll feel more. It'll mean dying again, this time everyday across an entire ocean, wishing for things she cannot have. I believe there are things as people we cannot afford to overlook, and if she did, she'd break her own heart. This time I'd say there's a little experience. I've seen what this madness does, it chips away pieces every time there's "if only" and "I wish". People don't tell you that "I miss you" hurts, you can practice all the optimism and harness positive vibes from the universe but falling will kill you worse than anything in this world - it is slow and brutal.

2019 Katleho knew how to strategically fall and throw caution to the wind, or so I thought. That girl was a result of 2017's brutality. I count my cautions now. That "think before you leap" shit is beyond imbedded in me at this point. But If we never met, I'd still harbor resentment from everything in 2019, convincing myself of all my fears and debilitating aches of my worn out spirit. So I like me more when there's a you involved.

I'd like to meet you again, not for me, but for you. Less afraid, more confident, more selfish and completely aware of who the fuck I am.

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