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Day 8 of 22

I don’t cry at funerals. I have cried at funerals, I cried at my grandmother’s funeral. But, I do not cry at funerals. We are born to die. Dying is a passage to an afterlife, one we are all destined. And even when death occurs, the person is gone. It is done. Crying will not bring them back. So, why should we cry and wail? Must we not take a moment of silence and respect and keep it moving?

“Boys don’t cry.”

My family would regularly share this mantra growing up. I had to be strong and I had to endure pain with the stoicism of a man. Crying gives you nothing. So, when you are running around the yard and you trio and fall; or you are insolent and get the belt; you must remember, boys don’t cry.

“Do you cry everyday?”

When I went to see a young doctor at the student’s clinic, she looked at me with a smile on her face and asked me,

“Do you cry everyday?”

“No. No, I don’t cry everyday.”

“Then you are not depressed.”

This was the shortest diagnosis in history. Well, she was a general practitioner and I was there for a skin condition treatment and not a therapy session. But, she was a medical professional and depression is a mental illness so she knew what she was doing, right? If I did not cry everyday, I was ok. I was ok.

“How are you?”

“I’m ok.”

I mean, that is the correct answer right? I remember being taught in primary,

“How do you do?”

“How do you do?”

That’s the answer. There are proper ways to answer these things and I try to be a proper guy. So, everytime someone asks me, “How are you?” I say, “I’m ok.”


That’s what I don’t want. Hate is easy to deal with. I hate myself already so you can’t possibly hate me more than I do. Plus, if you hate me, why should you matter? What does it matter?


Love though, I don’t know how to deal with love. I mean, in my mind I have to deserve it. I don’t deserve it. Even if you give me another chance, I will waste it. I’m a slumbering mess and I know I wont change to deserve love. You have given me love before and I wasted it. Have you seen me? Have you seen what I have done? Have you seen my thoughts? No, you haven’t. I don’t think you are ready for me to show you.

“I love you mom, pray for me.”

I did not elaborate. I mean, I was writing exams and telling your mother you love her is normal, right? Well, I’m not normal, so she knew something was wrong. I had said it, unprompted. She did not insist though, I got away with it.

Love was why I broke up with my ex-girlfriend. “I love you, but that is why I have to let you go.” She found love in Christ and she really wanted me to find it too. I couldn’t. I was too much in lust with my vice to change. To choose a different path. We were incompatible on a journey to righteousness. And, apparently, our relationship couldn’t survive that.

“How are you?” My mom asked. It was a different day, but the same question.

“I’m ok.”

“No, I insist, how are you son?”

“I’m not ok.”

I cried. I cried uncontrollably. I cried so loudly I couldn’t hear myself think. I curled into a ball and I cried. “I’m not ok. I love you, but I cant do what you want. I cant be better. I try to be better. I cant.” I cried my heart out. I did not have anything else to give. It was done. I was done. Finished. All that was left was a confession and to remove the last vestiges of resistance. I cant be loved.

“I love you. I love you anyway. I just want you alive. That’s enough for me.”

I am alive now, for those words mean the world to me. People who are dear to me say them with sincerity. I know the Lord loves me without excuse or limit. So, on that day, my spirit broke. I live with nothing more to give. But, I live, Body and Soul. And that’s enough for me.

Valentine Makoni

I am a sapiosexual, who finds joy in being a prolific and unapologetic composer of WCW posts. I have little stamina for books, so poetry is my reading of choice. I am a hip-hop head, I stan hard for Kendrick Lamar, Eminem and Run the Jewels.

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