Telling this story will let my tears drizzle again on my cheek like the introducing rain of the rainy season, for it reminds me of wrong and wronged souls. Yes! it is my story and I am not proud of it.
on the eve of 22nd of February, I stood staring at the ugliest thing I ever seen, oblivious of the bleeding bruises from the shattered mirror.
Four years ago I visited Obumuneme; to talk about everything we have always talked about, it was a total stutter, she was already getting bored of me but I couldn't help it, we holly watched time tick on our wall while we counted months and days of our relationship. All we cared about was verily the time, all that came with it we were thankful for but indignantly hoped to see. We were the best thing the street always wanted to see, always on regular unplanned uniforms strolling the street with childe laughter while we aimed at evening rendezvous in a bar, restaurant or behind costermongers.
It was on the hour of 12:45 and I stole down to her hostel at Greenlight hostel at Presco, with my hands loaded with fresh bakes from Vegas restaurant, and some fruit-juices for her, she was in her period of monthly sacrament and I should show a little bit of care no matter how petit. My mind was pale of thoughts, while I reminisced on Song, laughter and everything that ever brought her elation. Few minutes later I was knocking at her door which was under inner lock, while standing coldly in my visigoth manner as she opened the door slyly ajar and looked at my forehead,
I am busy John; she said, come back later? Busy with what?' I definitely asked within me, while she gutted indignantly at my patery present for her. She immediately locked the door and I dissentient-ly continued my knocking before I heard a bass-male-voice raised to a crescendo which bewildered my least expectations, I was wanted no more and it eaved hotly into my heart like a burning coal, I tried finding my feet in the mist of the mendacious-dramaturgical-stooge. I was all tears and no awe.
I left for my hostel and four years later I was still mourning my rejection, I had all eyes set on every lunae that could bring hope into my dying-poor-soul, it was a monumental period of ill, elf and menacous moments, losing my sweet Clementine was hysterical. I thought of no feminine friend until the 22nd of February. Four years after.
Early on the aforementioned morning, while I found my way along the street, I heard a call John! I turned, I couldn't believe my eyes as much as my eye detested what it saw, it was her, her beauty was ridden, her once overiped breasts flat like a sunned red-pepper, so ugly she looked that I could call her Gagool and still not be morally reprehensible. I felt a sharp anger and disgust in my chagrin. Exchanged pleasantries and found my way out.
Alone, I felt I made a cheap rate of myself ever loving her, the hysteria downed in me in freelance, I judged her for the pains she inflicted on me, she was ugly I thought to myself, no nostalgia for our memories, I moved over to the mirror to see myself, then a thought creeped into my heart like a light in the dark, it was a thought of all the hearts I have broken too, I thought of how ugly those innocent beings see me as, they did think I look like a Goblin or natterjack, I was a lecher and viciously debauchery. I looked at the mirror highly petrified and couldn't believe my eyes, though I was sorry for all the good hearts I have broken, I was the ugliest thing I've ever seen.
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