By now I thought I would have figured it all out. I’d have a kamansion on the hills, a monstrous American V8 muscle on the drive way and a girl with a humongous backside twerking her heavenly features as she lumbers around the house in my oversized t-shirt. But as it turns out, I live in my father’s house, eat my mother’s food, save the balance that remains after shopping to buy underwear, and when my mother’s spirit is high,I borrow some loose change to buy bamba twenty to text my crush, who grey ticks me at every turn and when she is merciful she slaps me with blue ticks.
Nonetheless, I found the love of my life in campus. Or so i thought. It is unfortunate that at twenty one I have expended all my energy in chasing one girl who took flight to some strange land of white folks and tall buildings. The probability of future relationships has never been so bleak.
I have always been a reserved lad, opting to view the thrill of dangerous living through the lens of other peoples wild experiences but as twenty dawned, i became conflicted. I want to experiment with my youth; have fun, do drugs, twatwatwa in my soap dish apartment and kiss my crush in public while my hands rest squarely on her buttocks just to piss off the grey folks. But at the same time I am compelled by my momma’s teaching to denounce all worldly pleasures and seek Yee the kingdom of God and all its righteousness. I want to work harder or smarter (whichever motivational speakers preach these days) and be more solicitous about my future but I also want to be slapdash and nonchalant, after all life is too important to be taken seriously.
I spent a sizeable portion of my twenty in solitude courtesy of a gap year and I have never been that depressed in my life. Most of my mates were having the time of their lives in college. Some would call from time to time and whenever we would meet I felt completely out of place. We had known each other all through high school but the fact that they were a step ahead of me made a world of difference. But the most depressing thing was witnessing the cruelty of life take a toll on my parents and being incapable to offer any aid but emotional support which at times seemed jejune.
With their marriage hanging in the balance, my education and that of my brothers seemingly at worlds end, auctioneers knocking on the door raring to feed us to the wolves and the treacherous waves of life rocking the boat, dead set on drowning my family in the dark abyss, life couldn’t have seem to get any worse. But those moments of crisis were also potential moments of faith, and with great conviction I can attest that miracles still do happen.
I still haven’t figured myself out. Sometimes I can’t help but pity my situation when I look at some of these kids out there making moves and getting bank. Someone at the age of nineteen has a music career, someone else’s gorgeous twenty three year old face is canvased on a Nivea billboard in Waikiki Way while another is a kick-ass writer with stronger connections than Safaricom, some young couple somewhere is celebrating five years of a fulfilling relationship, while me, ayam just there like a bug infested log with nothing to show for but some shity articles, a mediocre meme collection and the only flourishing relationship i have is with my laptop, mouse and Xbox controller.
At this age, when you get your little heart heartbroken, you don’t cry to your mother because grownups aren’t supposed to wallow over silly things like heartbreaks. When you are broke, which you always are, you don’t ask your father for some loose pocket change because it is embarrassing and awkward. You are an adult but you are not old enough to go out without your parents’permission. It is eerie being in your early twenties, but what a time to be alive.
About Peter Chege
He is a student at Moi university who finds peace and solace in isolation. He expresses himself through writing and plays video games on his PC when he’s not writing.
To read more of his stories, visit his blog post on Medium: https://medium.com/@chegepeternjau