My Special Neighbor

She is my neighbour from my previous apartment.

She moved into that apartment a month after me. We never really met for a while because as an introvert, I strategically only leave the house when there is no chance of me meeting any of my neighbours.

The first time we met, I was from the mall and was a tad bit tipsy. I passed her door before getting to mine. Her door was open and she had a party. My tipsy self thought it would be a good idea to go say hi at that moment. I didn’t lock my door because, for some reason, my brain thought that the anxiety that ensues from leaving my door open would stop me from spending too much time at the party.

I knock on her already open door and she receives me. I introduce myself as her neighbour. Turns out she already knew that. She invites me for a few shots. I get in, and one of her guests offers me his space on the couch, she brings me tequila and shot glasses and introduces me to the immediate guests.

I take a few shots and wanted to leave but she insists that I stay. I promise to go lock my door and be back. I go lock my door and join the party immediately after. The introvert in me showed up with cigarettes. I don’t mind cigarettes but I don’t particularly enjoy smoking them. They come in handy when I need a break from humans at a party. It’s easier for people to understand “I am going to smoke at the balcony” compared to “I am going to the balcony because there is no one there and I need space from humans”.

After a few minutes of saying hi to people I did not know, I go to smoke. A gentleman joins me, he was smoking so I did not mind his presence. 10 minutes later, I decided to cut my night short and go sleep since the conversation I was having with my balcony mate involved him trying to figure out what was wrong with me as a woman.

I go say bye to my neighbour and she decides to walk me to my house and hug me goodnight.

Fast forward to two weeks later, she invites me for dinner and drinks. We get to know more about each other. We are both developers. We laugh about my resting bitch face that stopped her from ever saying hi to me whenever she saw me. She tells me that I am nicer in person which makes me smile. When the drinks kick in, she tells me that I am hot and respectfully asks if she can kiss me.

Is she beautiful? Yes. Is she hot? Yes. Is she smart? Yes Is she sexy? Yes. Does she have a beautiful personality? Yes. Am I attracted to her? Yes. SO, WHY THE FUCK DID I SAY “NO” WHEN SHE ASKED TO KISS ME!!!

Now the thought of kissing her is in my head and that is all I can think about. After about an hour, she asked if she could kiss me again. I nodded yes and our faces very naturally moved closer to each other. I got lost in that kiss. Everything disappeared. She was the only thing that existed. I have never had a kiss that passionate and that intense that all my problems disappeared.

With both her hands on my neck, she detaches slowly from my lips, her hands still in place, she looks at me and asks me to spend the night. I nod again because however much I tried, I could not let the word “yes” out of my mouth even though all I wanted to do was scream it for the whole world to hear.

We went to bed, and she helped me remove my clothes, made sure I was comfortable and then she got on top of me. I was not prepared for this. All she needed me to do was lie down and spread my legs. She had toys that I had never seen before. I lost myself in her which is something I had never done while having sex with a man. I felt safe. I felt special. That night, she existed to pleasure me. This feeling was foreign to me and I loved it. Sex with a woman hits differently.

She was happy to go on all night but for some reason, I felt guilty. I did not deserve that level of pleasure without giving anything in return. We cuddled all night and she made me juice in the morning which was quite helpful with my hangover.

She was the most overwhelming experience I have ever had.

I am not equipped to handle you in your current state

Sunday morning

Babe: “Hey, babe! Do you want to watch Spiderman tomorrow morning?”

Me: “Yes, I would love to. It will be a nice way to spend my last day on holiday before getting back to work”

Monday morning

I am awake by 7 am. I start preparing at a snail’s pace. The movie starts at 10 am so I should be out of the house by 9 am. I check on him via text and he responds confirming the date.

I make it to the mall in time. I carried Machiavelli’s The Prince so I could keep myself busy in case I got there before him. He showed up a few minutes after me so I was only able to read a few sentences which I would have to reread when I get back home because I notice that there is too much in my head and I feel sad yet I do not know why.

As soon as I see him, I smile then stand up to meet him halfway and hug him as he plants a little kiss on my lips. We walk to the counter to buy our tickets, hot dogs, popcorn and fizzy drinks. I notice that I did not carry my 3D glasses. I ask the cashier how much a pair costs. My babe tells me to hold up a bit because he might have carried two pairs of glasses. He checks his bag just to realize that he carried 0.

“Babe, will you also get me a pair?” He asks and I agree to get him a pair. I get my debit card and give it to the cashier. He charges my card, I key in my pin and take my card, the 3D glasses that I just bought and my receipt. I look at my receipt and I see the cashier has charged everything on my card, the tickets, food and glasses. At this point, my babe starts walking away from the counter and cancels the mobile money payment process that he had begun on his phone.

I follow babe and we sit as we wait for our movie to start in about 15 minutes. I notice that he is a lot more touchy and keeps telling me how much he loves me. He said more “I love you”s in 15 minutes than he ever has in a week (I have to make it clear that this is not hyperbole). My biggest concern right now is “why don’t I want to tell him that I love him back?” and is this normal to him given that I always tell him that I love him back???

After the movie, we go to his place to have lunch. He tries getting me naked but I am not into it so we settle for cuddling. He asks me to spend the night and I tell him that I can’t because I have to be in the office quite early the next day. Our food is delivered. We get out of bed, and he helps me dress up and recognises my depressed demeanour which I stupidly apologise for and was immediately disgusted with myself for doing it.

While having lunch, I ask him about traffic and what time would be great for me to go home if I did not want to deal with traffic. He mentions that 4 pm and 8 pm are the best times. I choose 8 pm because I generally prefer darkness. That was when he said, “I think you should leave right now because I am not equipped to handle you in your current state.”

I left indeed…..I left physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually and sexually.

It all went downhill after “sploosh! frothy loins”

Tinder might be a great way for me to talk to people other than the two constant friends I have in my life. I sign up and upload pictures of my beautiful face that I consider cool. I pay for a subscription because I am curious with regards to knowing who has swiped me right. They might just be my type of weird.

After a few days of swiping, I match with Michael. He does not have a picture of himself, but I did like the artwork that he used in place of his face.

The first thing he said to me was “From your taste in music, I can already tell that I will like you”. This intrigues me immediately because he is the second human I have met who knows the names Thomas Bergesen, Brian Tyler, Hans Zimmer, Soundcritters, Two Steps from Hell, Efisio Cross, Alan Silvestri, Steve Jablonsky etc. I am glad to have connected my Spotify to tinder.

We talk about music from the movies that we enjoy. He spoke about nostalgic ecstasy in reference to his listening to music that used to be his favourite at some point. I borrowed the phrase “nostalgic ecstasy” and renamed one of my playlists from “nostalgia” to “nostalgic ecstasy”. This is a list of songs that I listened to at some point in my life and drained the songs off all their neurotransmitters.

We chat about Christopher Nolan, reading, and writing. We talk about my blog Kyllan and Chebet, I share the link with him, he asks to be included in my adventures with Kyllan and Konan. I agree and draft a story that introduces Michael to the family.

He once called me “my fair maiden” and I stupidly responded to that with “sploosh! frothy loins”. At this point, he debates whether to be quaint and proper or unleash his wildest fantasies on me. He chose to go with the latter. It was at this point that I realised I had fucked up.

So, I did what I always do whenever I freak out. I deleted tinder and moved on with my life and made peace with speaking to only 3 people: my two friends and me.

A few days later, I get a comment on the blog post that introduced Michael to the family. The comment was of concern. He was afraid that he might have lost me and he included his email address where I could reach him.

I reached out via email and we exchanged numbers. The ensuing days included an exchange of messages that had me permanently horny and smiling. This dude whose face I had never seen was stirring up emotions in me that I had not felt in a very long time. He asked if he could invite me to go work in his offices on one of the days that I would be working from home. We had to cancel this because my country had elections around that time and we have a history of post-election violence. Safety was key.

A few days after the elections and everything looked peaceful, he had a free afternoon and asked if we could hang out. I tell him that I was working from a restaurant and that he can come to join me there and we can have coffee. I was not as excited about this as I thought I should be. After telling him to join me at the restaurant, he responds “I was thinking more of cuddles and watching movies at your place.”

My vagina has never dried up so fast. I responded with a single “NO”. I then proceeded to delete his number and do some research on him. Our lovely Michael is actually called Victor and he doesn’t look like the kind of dude I would be attracted to if only looks is what we were going for. I quickly deleted the blog post that introduced Michael to the family and deleted all our correspondence (emails and text messages). My mind went on overdrive. Did he think that I was going to allow a strange man into my bed, all over my space and touching my skin? What if he cuddles me to death? What if he is a petty thief? He could be a serial killer. He must be a whore to think that it was okay for him to suggest that. He probably has a lot of unprotected sex. Eww! I am disgusted just thinking about it.

He sent a message a few days later apologizing for thinking that it was okay to want to come to my house just like that. He also asked if our relationship was damaged beyond repair. I responded with a single “YES”. He then sent an essay which basically was another apology, him saying that it was a privilege knowing me, that he is mad at himself for spoiling things, that he respects me and that he will never bother me again. I didn’t respond to this one.

A few days later, he bothered me again while I was on my eighth tequila shot. I don’t remember what I said to him but he has never bothered me again. He’s since been successfully deleted from my life.

In retrospect, things went downhill after “sploosh! frothy loins”. I will not be saying that to men ever again.

A nice thing happened at work

Sigh! Someone reported me at work and now I have to write an article about my professional journey so it can be posted on the organization’s website to serve as inspiration to members of the human race that will come across it. I wish I knew which of my tasks led up to this then I would have an idea of the person that reported me (it wouldn’t change anything if I knew anyway). The email I received from the communications department did not mention who had reported me. I asked to include my supervisor in my story. He was very excited as he had no knowledge of this. So, if he wasn’t the one that reported me, who did? I should mention that I do not like to be seen, I love the darkness and blending in the background. I wish I could write it anonymously or use a pseudo name.

It’s been two weeks since I got the news. I have been expertly procrastinating thinking about what I would like to jot down to inspire a young African girl. I even have to share a few photos of me working. Will I have to invite my neighbour to come to my house and take photos of me as I work? I have two friends. I will call one of them. I don’t know any of my neighbours. I moved to a new apartment and decided not to be friendly with my neighbours because I have had bad experiences with neighbours that have no knowledge of what a boundary is and why people set them. I would not want to unwillingly end up taking illegal drugs and have a one-hour phone call with my ex-partner only to wake up and realize that it was my cousin I talked to for that hour, again. I might need to dress up for the photos. Maybe get rid of the legal drugs on my table so nobody thinks that I am doing a great job despite my illness. The drugs are all prescribed by the doctor for my mildly acidic stomach that gets angry whenever I introduce beans to my gut.

I guess I am coming to terms with this. I might even come up with a concept in my sleep.

Just another day torturing my colleague

I am feeling dark today, so I have set all my gadgets to a dark theme so it matches my heart and create the best possible mood for my ensuing thoughts.

My very incompetent micromanaging racist colleague is at it again. What shall we do to her today?

I know a chemist that owes me a favour. Time to collect some helium gas.

As soon as she gets home, she will find me waiting for her in her bedroom. I will be behind the door. As soon as she opens the door to the bedroom, I will shut it behind her and knock her out.

While she is unconscious, I will carry her to her bed and have her lie on her tummy.

I will:

  1. Pull down her pants to expose her flat buttocks.
  2. Pull out my phone from my pocket and play the Vagina Song by Pig Vomit.
  3. Get the gas cylinder, connect it to my needle and inject the needle into her right buttock.
  4. Pump of helium gas into her body through the right buttock till she floats to the ceiling.
  5. Watch her expand and float to the ceiling.
  6. Stop pumping the gas, pull out the needle and shut the hole from which the needle came out using a cork.
  7. Ask the 3 footballers hiding under the bed to come out and kick her around as they do with a football in the field.
  8. Watch her bounce off the walls until she deflates and can’t bounce off the walls anymore.
  9. I confine her to the bed with handcuffs that I stole from my neighbour who is a policeman.
  10. I open the bathroom door to let out her boyfriend who I had turned into an obedient bee earlier in the day.
  11. The bee-boyfriend stings her nose and dies.
  12. I take the dead bee-boyfriend, I go home and create it.
  13. She regains consciousness.
  14. I watch her confusion on my laptop thanks to the secret cameras that I installed.
  15. She quits her job in disappears to Mars because of the huge nose (huge noses are illegal on earth, people use them to breathe in more oxygen than they need and then sell it to hospitals at exorbitant prices). I made sure the bee boyfriend’s sting effect would be permanent.
  16. I enjoy a healthy working environment forever.

Saved by a drugie

I am using drugie as a term to mean somebody that uses hard narcotics but is not an addict. Is there an official term for that? Comment if there is one.

High enough (on Absolut Vodka) that I am looking at my keyboard to make sure that I am typing the correct thing. I am a lot slower at typing than usual. I have also been confused by the fact that the font I am using has small caps “L” and caps “i” looking the same. I also just checked to make sure that I did not throw the cigarette filter/butt on my carpet. Yes, I am smoking in the house and spraying lavender air freshener afterwards because I cannot stand the smell of cigarettes when I am hangover (a condition I anticipate to have tomorrow). I am just glad that I can actually type. If this article is shit, I will delete it as soon as I wake up hoping that I will actually remember that I posted something. Hopefully, it wont become one of those posts where I delete everything midway and decide not to post (I do this a lot). I was once told that I exist in the wrong continent because of the things I write about and I think that statement affected me more than I would like to admit. Are there specific things I should aviod writing about because I am African? Currently listening to Gary Barlow’s Back For Good. This will be relevant at some point, I promise. Give me a moment to convert the song to mp3 so I can listen to it on loop using VLC player.

I got to go pee then will be back.

I am now back. Don’t you love the JLS harmonies?

My neighbour gave me something called crystals a few days ago. It was a very little portion mixed in my Tanquery gin. She gave me a quarter the crystals of what she had (she crashed them into powder first). She was very happy after taking it (about 45 minutes after taking it) and our two people party ended because she got horny and went to fuck my other neighbor, which I encouraged her to do because she asked to kiss me more that once. I said no even though I wanted to kiss her back. Not sure why I did that. She is attractive and we happen to like a lot of the same things. Food for thought, I guess.

I was talking to a religious practitioner yesterday. He told me about how most humans are okay with giving themselves to something that takes control of them. This is what I have been doing all week; drinking vodka and being in another world. Since he is a Christian pastor (I think. He is very rational compared to other religious people that I have interacted with), he specifically talked about church. He said to me that people in church give themselves to the pastor and to the worship team. I give myself to alcohol. My neighbor gives herself to crystals (I still do not know the chemical composition but I will let you know as soon as I figure that out). Do we all, every once in a while just want to give control of our lives to something other than ourselves be it religion, drugs, work etc (pick your poison)?

He (the religious practitioner) mentioned that I always excelled at being free which turned me into the villain of the family (he has known me since I was little. I have also always done what I want when I want and I avoid showing weakness as much as I can). I didn’t realize that this is what the world saw in me because I have not felt free or in control this past week. I called all my friends (5 of them) before deciding to do something drastic. I thought that if my life ended, I would be free of the suffering. I just have to stop existing and I would be okay. I ended up at my neighbour’s because I needed someone to talk to and all my friends were unavailable. Thought of ending my life but became a pussy when it got to actually doing it. I think I like living, even when I am at low points, I am happy that I still choose life :).

I am smoking again after three months of taking a break. The head rush feels different. I am not sure where my head is at. Work is perfect, I got into my dream school in London and I am getting along with most of my immediate family. So, what the fuck is wrong?

While talking to my neighbor, she hugged me and thanked me for randomly showing up at her house. She thought talking to me made her feel much better. It may sound stupid but if one person felt better because I was just there to listen, then maybe my existence is somewhat of use.

I am not getting as high as I would like to be but I guess it works for my typing. I also realise, this was my last resort because sometimes, I get a few comments that are actually uplifting. (I just looked at my ceiling and was staring right at my chandelier. If it broke, part of it would pass through my right eye and that would be a complication that I choose not to think about right now. I clearly am not courting death).

Just a ramble

I guess I stopped counting the days since you left. It hasn’t helped because I can’t forget the exact date. I know you are coming back, you promised to come back and you had better keep that promise. I want to know that you are okay. I want to stare at your face for no reason. I want to catch you staring at mine for no good reason. I want to have philosophical conversations and arguments with you. I want to sit in the kitchen with you as you cook, I promise not to be a distraction. I want you to run your fingers down my temple to my cheeks in the mornings. I want you to hug me for as long as possible because I had a tough day and then listen to me while I ramble on about the tough day.

It’s been particularly hard these past few weeks. I got a message from my therapist. He was saying hi. I thought I could mention something then but turns out he wanted to sell me insurance. I never kept up the conversation after I mentioned not needing insurance. My mum was strangled a week ago by my cousin who is still at large. Don’t worry, she is alive. I am not sure about her mental state though. Nobody gave me this information until 72 hours after it happened. I am the fragile lastborn who needs protection from bad news. All I wanted to do after getting the information was to call you and talk without pretending to be strong. Cry to you instead of alone. I wrote a letter but ended up crying so much on it that the ink ran too much and the writings are no longer legible. I also would not know where to send it.

I recently bought a human-sized teddy bear so I can have something to cuddle and talk to. I moved to a smaller place so the house feels a lot less empty. I’ll try not to lose my mind.

Feelings after vodka

That first sip that goes down your throat, feels a little uncomfortable and irritating. It stings but you don’t care because you are waiting for the reward. That first sip hits to specifically remind you of why you should take the next sip. It’s a tipsy wave that comes and goes in almost a second as if teasing you and you are back to normalcy sooner than you hope. You immediately stretch your right hand to pick up your glass and your left hand to pick up the vodka bottle with 47 per cent alcohol. This time you pour a double shot. It tastes like shit but you are after that amazing tipsy feeling that seduced you only after one shot and left you yearning for more. What a bastard!

You take some water and pour another double shot. You worry about the speed at which you are drinking and decide to dilute it with water so you can sip it slowly. It doesn’t taste like shit anymore and you claim your status on the table of responsible alcohol drinkers.

You sip slowly making sure you are still in control of your balance. You start to feel good. He suddenly shows up in your thoughts. Who else would be better to share this feel-good moment than with him! You think about all the things you would love to tell him for no other reason except that you would want him to know every part of you. You think about the last time you saw him and that passionate kiss that is still very fresh in your head. Sigh!! You finally admit to your tipsy self that you miss him.

He’s different and sometimes he makes you uncomfortable but you like it. When around him, things that were once absolutely scary to you don’t seem scary at all. These are your selfish reasons for wanting him around. You are changing for the better, they may look like trivial things to someone else but only you know that this trivial experience if applied to other parts of your life, will move you closer and closer the kind of human you wish to be.

Your heart warms and you imagine that if he was there, you would stretch out your hands and touch his face, your fingers on his temple and the soft part of your palm on his cheek and look at him without speaking but your eyes will say, “I am glad I met you. I am glad you exist. You are a fine collection of atoms and my only hope is that you are getting as much from me as I am from you”. You know you will never utter those words but you hope that someday, he will be able to read your eyes.

It’s almost been three hours. You stand up to go empty your bladder and realize you are about to lose your balance as you walk. You empty your bladder, then head to the kitchen to have some water. You take painkillers hoping it will stop the pending headache. You go to your room, get naked and jump into bed. You whisper a good night and his name afterwards then make sure the last thought in your head before you sleep is of him just looking at you and not saying anything because his eyes tell it all.

Another weird day

The hormonal shit happening in my body is on a whole new level. I snoozed my alarm clock for a bloody three hours. Thank goodness I did not have any work backlog. I do have a presentation tomorrow. The point of waking up early was to go through my documentation. I have to make sure there are no mistakes, add any new information and master that shit because I cannot look like I do not know what I am talking about during the presentation. I did engage in one of my guilty pleasures before sleeping the previous night hence my shameless snoozing. Hell, I do not know how my guilty pleasure and my snoozing are related but the two seem to be correlated.


I do actually get into work in time. I don’t exactly log in but I do reply to emails from my phone. I am working from home by the way. I do not log into Microsoft teams because being online will predispose me to tasks that I am not particularly interested in and can also be done by someone else. I am not in the mood for mundane tasks. My tits hurt too much for this.

As soon as I gather all the energy I need to work and feel proud of myself, my twatty neighbours start playing loud music from a genre I did not even know existed. I want to murder then, strangle them as I watch the life fade out of their eyes. Who the fuck plays loud music on Tuesday morning. I need to find a neighbourhood for introvert nerds. So I put on my headphones. I start playing “Portals” from “Avengers Endgame”, “All the strange strange creatures” and “This Is Gallifrey: Our Childhood, Our home” from “Doctor Who”, the David Tennant period. I blast this shit with my headphones. The decibels are enough to not harm my eardrums. Everything disappears and it is me and my work and I do not want to kill the bitches anymore.


It gets to 3 pm and for some reason, I am sad. I don’t know why I am sad. I try playing the sudoku puzzles that I had printed but it does not help. I try watching “Dr Stone” and end up getting angry at “Tsukasa”.


Its 5 pm and I do not know what to do with myself. It’s after work so I go offline. How is Marta doing?. She had a fever and has been indisposed all day. I like her because she has been nice to me our relationship has developed from colleague to friend. I am speaking for myself. I will check on her tomorrow. At the supermarket, I get myself some snacks, I am tempted to get cigarettes but I decide not to. On my way back to my place, the little devil on my shoulder urges me to pass by the liquor store and get some gin.


My feelings are still all over the place. But here I am ranting on a blog post because I don’t feel like bothering my dear friends with this information. I will instead bother you, my dear reader. I am tipsy enough to feel every single emotion. There has been a myriad of those emotions. Hope I will kill it in my presentation tomorrow which is on my least favourite topic.

It’s been a while dear religion

Hey babes 😁😁

Hey hey. What’s with the creepy smile? What are you doing here? Thought I got rid of you. You are persistent. You alone or did you bring along some believers to convert me?

Your mama keeps sending me back to you. She seems to be unaware that you kicked me out of your life. Your daddy too. Since you started talking to him again, he’s been quite curious about my relationship with you.

Damn!! If I tell them that we are still together, I might have to constantly lie about what I do with my time on Sunday. This one, is going to be exhausting for me. If I tell them the truth, I will get disowned. We both know you are the stick up my parents’ asses. I could just stay away from them for a while. Not sure how this one will end. Fuck me…..

I would make them mind their own business but that is against everything that I teach them. You probably should just disappear and change your name. You will be fine.

Sigh. I got a decision to make. It has to involve never seeing you again. Go back tgo my parents and feed them whatever bullshit you usually do. Why do you keep feeding my mom ideas about how my tattoos will send me to hell?? You are an asshole.

Yes I am.

Lol!! I didn’t expect you to agree to that.

Why won’t you take me back? Your life is so much better without me, people might find out that I am actually unnecessary.

I hate to say it, but some people might actually need you. I know a few people whose lives got better after subscribing to you. Don’t sulk. It’s weird when you sulk.

Remember that time you gave up on life because I made you think God and not you is in control at a time when your prayers weren’t changing anything so you decided that you are being punished for your sins and you should suffer your punishment gracefully and lead a life of pain until God decided that you had paid your dues and can start enjoying life once again.

Like I said, you are a bloody twat.

You broke up with me and started glowing. I am a little jealous of all the control you have in your life. You are a now a goddess and you live like one. I don’t like that I have no influence over you. Please let me back in. We could start a cult, and you will be the God I peddle around.

Get the fuck out of here and go bother my parents and their toxic marriage that they stay in because you told them divorce will send them to hell.

You are a rude one.