I Hope Someday I Will Find My Soul Sister

I hope someday I will find that kind of love. It’s not romantic kind of love I’m talking about. I’m looking for sisterhood. Don’t get me wrong, I have female friends. Friends that I cherish very much. We hangout often, talk about things and do favors for each another. And that’s pretty much friendship, I suppose. Showing up is the whole point of friendship, don’t you think? So I show up when they need me. I show up when I’m expected. I attend birthdays and never forget to wish them happy birthday. Sometimes I buy presents, actually mostly.

But I haven’t really found my soul sister. I haven’t experienced sisterhood. I’m talking about someone who knows me in and out and I know them that well too. I’m talking about someone who wouldn’t mind going to event horizon(black hole) if that means saving me. And I will love them enough not to let them do such a stupid thing. Someone who got my back and sticks through it all. Someone who listens to all my stupid experiences and bullshit stories and tell me it’s bullshit but listens some more.

I’m looking for the Caroline to my Max, the Ann to My Leslie, the Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda to my Cassie. I’m looking for my soul sister.

I have seen how sisterhood works and it’s all the love we need anyway. It doesn’t matter how hard times are, they stick together. I saw it firsthand from my mother and mentor.(well, I doubt I can ever be half the woman she is). She has this one friend she never gets tired of having around. They have stuck together through it all. The good, the bad, the messy, raising teenagers and everything in between. Sometimes her best friend makes decisions about our lives and she doesn’t even mind asking. It’s like they were made for each other. No doubt. My mom doesn’t have to carry her burdens alone. And someday, I hope I will find that. Who needs more if they can have a real best friend?

It’s the kind of love only a sister from the other mother can provide.

You probably wondering why I wrote this post while I talk so much about my friends in my previous post. Well, I had a soliloquy and it hit me that I really don’t have a real best friend. There’s no one I can call at 2 a.m when I need something, no one I can tell anything that pops in my head. I don’t have my 911 or is it 999? It’s mostly just a bunch of people that I hangout with and sometimes invite wine to the party. Take seflies and post online.

I know I might go through life and never meet my soul sister. I heard my best years to make solid friendships is closing in. I have heard it, you have heard it, the Eskimos have heard it and we all know it’s probably true. But a girl can hope, don’t you think?

Just another rumble.


In My Dreams We Are Together

Have you ever tried sleeping with a broken heart. You should try sleeping in my bed”


I’m not okay and haven’t been in a very long time. I have been faking it hoping to make it.

My friends think I shouldn’t be grieving and that it’s old news that a boy broke my heart. That he ain’t worth my tears. They don’t understand he is worth my everything. He was worth my life. I tell them he could have slit my throat and I would have used my last breath to apologize for ruining his shirt. They think I’m crazy, maybe.

I have been labeled desperate. They are Right, I’m desperate.I’m desperate for him. He kept me sane, he kept me safe. They don’t understand. Everyone is so obsessed with where I left my pride and who. They don’t understand that those things don’t matter when the heart is involved. The heart want what it wants,so does my soul.

I have been called foolish more times this past few months than my entire life. Yes baby, I’m a fool for you. I have been chasing you for months now, yes I’m a fool and desperate for you. You don’t pick my calls anymore and it’s like you forgot how to read and write because baby you ain’t responding to my messages. I passed by your place, more than once, you are never home.

They tell me I need to have pride. They tell me I need to stop chasing after that boy. They tell me to get my shit together and stop being so desperate. They tell me to leave alcohol alone for a while. They are talking too much. They don’t understand, you are all that I need. Too much noise and I just want to be Left alone.

I have gained weight, I know this because I stepped on the scale the other day and I was shocked. People say I look Like shit. I don’t care. I have never been able to fully commit to a reality without you on it. I don’t care how I look anymore, the last time I saw my salonist was many moons ago. She even called the other day, apparently she cares about my hair.

I get through the day like a zombie. I long to be home( that doesn’t feel so homey without you) just another plain room with nothing on it but a basic bed and a study table. I long to be home so I can finally get to be alone with my new found solace (wine). I drink my soul to sleep.

It doesn’t hurt when I’m passed out drunk. In my sleep I dream, in my dreams he is mine. In my dreams we are together. In my dreams he never  walked away in a cold windy night and left the front door open. He didn’t pack his bags and left me lying on the floor begging him not leave me. In that world he is my king and I’m his Queen. In my dreams, it’s okay. In my dreams we are okay. In my dreams, it’s his arms that lull me to sleep.

Just another rumble.



I hated him most for not having the courage to ruin us grandly.
To break all the dishes and burn down the house.
Instead he sunk quiet into the arms of a beautiful, weak little bird.
Denied me my spilled blood, my great war, everything except his confession.

Just another rumble.

Breaking Up With You Was For The Best


Dear make up,

I’m glad our relationships ended when it did. I feel freerer now that I don’t have you in my life. My dressing table is less crowded this days. I’m sure it’s silently rejoicing for being relieved the duty of dealing with you.

Our relationship was toxic. You made me believe that I wouldn’t last out there without you. You made me feel like I needed you to survive. I became your slave and this time chains the latch was all in my head.

I stayed with you through it all. I stayed even when my skin reacted to some of your products. I stayed even when lipstick started ruining my lips. I stayed even when my lips started blackening. I stayed even when eyeliners wouldn’t let me rub my eyes. I stayed even after you made me take that painful trip to the dermatologist after one of your product ruined my skin. Did you know I spent money and time on that occasion?

You made me leave my bed earlier than need be because I needed extra time to incorporate you in my morning routine. The process from foundation to lipstick was not a one minute kind of thing.
As if that wasn’t enough I had to deal with washing you off every other evening. (I thought dealing with the bra was already bad enough).

I spent my hard earned cash on you. Invested my limited time on you and as if that wasn’t enough, I got addicted to you. Staying with you finally made me understand why people stay in abusive relationships. 

You weren’t all horrible though. Our relationship wasn’t all thorns, it came with some roses. Especially red lipstick. It magically became the answer to everything. Having a bad day? Get some red lipstick. Feeling tired? Get some red lipstick. Dark eye circles? How about some red lipstick. Feeling flirty? Let’s get some red please. There’s basically nothing red lipstick wouldn’t fix. My mom taught me this though, and after growing up I found out she was right. Of course my mom was right. Instead of therapy maybe people should just use red lipstick.

I wouldn’t forget all those times you made my face look bright even when I was feeling like shit. I wouldn’t forget how you made my plastic smile believable on bad days. A big thank you

Like every other good thing from cocaine, marijuana, alcohol etc. You were bad for me. Horrible for my skin. And worse for my time(not like I’m usually time conscious though). My finances probably had it worse.

How could any sane person have; more than 10 shades of lipstick, foundation, compartment powder (more than one) several eye shadows, uncountable eye pencils, several eye liners, some blushers and some lip gloss. That was obviously witchcraft! You had bewitched me into loving you. Sometimes I be walking around town innocently then I spot a cosmetic shop and accidentally slip into the shop and buy some lipstick. Witchcraft is real Oga!

I didn’t know I was suffocating until I breathed some air and choose to walk away. No more oils, soaps and cleanser to deal with every evening. My bathroom window is less crowded now. It only holds my shampoo and soap this days. I don’t have to take a lot of time to prepare before leaving the house. And my dressing table is actually on vacation!

Sincerely Riri

Just another rumble.

Good Things Don’t End, They End Badly

“If you asked me how many times my heart has been broken, I will ask you to look at the sky and count the stars . “


My heart has been broken that many times not because I have love so many times, it’s because I did loose the one I loved so many times. It’s like every time I wake to a reality without him, my heart breaks one more time.

I was never the one to wish or dream of happy ever after,but for him I wanted to take it to the alter. I started dreaming of a white dress. I wanted to walk down the isle with my parents in tow while my Prince awaits to sweep me off my feet for then and forever. Forever and for always.

I never wanted to have babies but for him I would have popped more than one. It’s like my maternal instincts kicked in, instincts I didn’t know I had. I would look him in the eye and get lost to those dreamy eyes and silently hoped to be the mother of his children.

Maybe it was in the way he looked at me. I was a chipped China ware that had lost it’s lustre long time ago. he saw the chipped and the dull but still looked at me like I was the most precious thing under the sun. Imperfect as I was, he loved me anyway.

Maybe it was because I had shown him the ugly (parts of me that I keep hidden) and he didn’t try to save me. He held my hand while I saved myself. He light the way while I walked the walk by myself. When my wings broke, he didn’t offer me his, he showed me that I could walk. That I didn’t need wings, and that my legs were just ask good.

Maybe it’s because he never wanted to change me. He loved me anyway. I was his beautiful mess,his drag Queen. And he was my human diary, my safe place, my 911 and my messed up Prince. You really have to be messed up to love me.

And I loved him even more. He became my source of inspiration. He was my flashlight. And it’s sad that all I could offer him were the broken pieces of what was left of me. All I could give was pain and more pain. All I could give was darkness and depression and cynicism.

Sometimes I lie awake at night will the night, moon and stars to give me a little sign that maybe in another life we really did have a chance. I go on my knees asking The Guy above to give us another chance. Just one more time and I will do everything in my power to fix us. The night offers silence. The moon is shy, let her be. And stars fall, shoot and shine. The night and company ignore me absolutely.

It was too good to be true, it was great until my insecurities kicked in and I started ruining us. There’s a threshold for this game for two, the game of pushing and pulling. It was expected somebody was gonna get tired and let go. In the end someone was bound to walk away.

Now all I have is a bunch of what IF’s, a broken heart and wishes.

Good things don’t end, they end badly.

Just another rumble.

Tribute To My Most Dysfunctional Functional Group Members From Campus


I will start by celebrating y’all. It’s been two academic years since we started this ka cult of ours. Only one word might be used to describe the experience,crazy, it’s been crazy working with y’all shit heads. From our lows to highs,bad to good, substandard works to excellent, frustrations to stress free and now we are coming to the end.

We all know it was the most horrible idea for us to belong to the same group. I mean,how nuts can anyone be to have all that 50 shades of crazy in one group? I guess, more than crazy. We were never compatible on whatever scale of comparability ever created by man. How that worked out for two academic years, straight,  I will never understand.

Bernarde the alpha male and the only man, Mercy the sometimes alpha and sometimes beta female, Micere the sane one, Diba the sometimes rationale and mostly fisty, Sharon the one who talks too much and avoids responsibility as much as possible, Regina the ever unavailable and available (y’all know what I mean) and then there’s me. Let’s not even go there! And lastly, our ghost group member. Not naming names.

So our sometimes alpha sometimes beta female, (Mercy) can actually produce good results under pressure. She disappears when she thinks there’s no pressure, key word here is THINK. Did y’all see how she worked on that ka seminar paper? It was like her life depended on it! Who ever imagined Mercy was capable of putting that much effort to anything? Well, I didn’t seen that coming.

Then our rational (Micere) and all time group leader even when she claims she is not. Well, I wonder how she got through two academic years leading these shit heads of crazy people, by force. She didn’t have a choice BTW. Man, TWO ACADEMIC YEARS!! Maybe it’s because she is a first born or she is just patient or the Holy Spirit intervened. It’s hard to tell from where I’m standing. And somebody knows how to delegate duties,who knew?

I will really miss Regina. Well, her availability and unavailability is something to be admired. That girl knows how to survive. And we had a strange relationship. Sometimes she is on my side, sometimes against me but mostly she excelled in getting on my nerves. I wonder how much she got paid just to rattle my nerves.

Our Doris was awesome when she wanted, then there are days she just choose to do nothing. You should have seen how she handles stress and pressure. “Things are going south? Lets take some selfie, meanwhile. “ The number of seflie we took, courtesy of this girl are uncountable. And this used to piss off The man in the group,who could have imagined? He would storm out(like a boss) and leave us to fend for ourselves. Not like we ended up being more productive or anything mundane.

There was this one time we spent the entire evening taking pictures of ourselves, against the sunset. The man in the group thought we were actually working. We excelled in surprising him, as if we were getting paid. We did that for free! Abso-fucking-lutely free!

Bernarde without you I doubt we would have come this far. You are highly appreciated. Not like you were perfect, far from it. Your mood swings used to drive us insane, ask anyone. But at Least it used to get us girls to work, sometimes, anyway. You were our IT guy and the one who handle the Technical things Like SPSS and what not.

Then there was Sharon. There’s nothing much to say about her. She didn’t stay long enough to witness the crazy or get through the tough times, she left after a year. But she really knew how to evade responsibilities. Her laptop was never available. Sijui laptop imeharibika, sijui nilipeana , ooh sijui ……  unending excuses.

Then there was one who was never in the group but her name appeared in all our reports. I’m not mentioning names, lest it’s used against her in future. We would all agree not to include her name but somehow, I don’t know, somebody added her. Did she even contribute on printing money? Of course not. Not like we  asked her to give much, it usually from 100 Bob( Kenyan shilling) to 300 tops! And that was plus lunch for somebody, somebody always got lunch. Usually it was one person, always that person, and somehow, this person earned the lunch. anyway, about our ghost group member, I guess no one will miss her. And maybe that’s a good thing. Wait, somebody will miss her, but that’s definetly not me.

Well then there was me. How I got my pretty self in this crazy shit hole of a group,  I Will never understand. Why I stayed for two Years? I don’t know,maybe somebody should do a research, or something. As long as you seek consent, nicely. Not like I regret or anything. The experienced was interesting. Interesting enough that I’m telling the internet about it!

I will definetly miss y’all. I wish you well and I hope life treats you with kindnesses and may you find the desires of your hearts. And none of you shit heads should change, not for anyone or anything. Your imperfections is what made you perfect. Without those shortcoming we wouldn’t have had the experience we had

This was supposed to be a tribute and I ended up talking about the crazy in y’all shit heads.

The lessons I learnt were priceless. And the memories are forever cherished. And your support appreciated.


PS. I hope after school we will keep in touch, once a year ain’t so bad. Please send Christmas greetings or birthday wishes.

Just another rumble.