I remember on the second day… you told me, or should I say you warned me not to fall for you. When you said it, it took all my will power to not laugh in your face. In my mind, I was wondering, “Who the hell does this nicca think he is? Denzel?”
You see, I’ve heard guys say that to me a gazillion times before and in my opinion, if you’re not Hugh Hefner or a shirtless Tatum Channing, then you really don’t have the charm to pull off that kind of confidence. In fact, coming from the wrong guy, it’s quite irritating to hear.
Anyway, maybe I was bored, or lonely (thin line between the two). Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that it happened around the time I watched that stupid gay Twilight movie. You can’t watch that crap without thinking that maybe shit like that really does happen in real life… that people just sit and gaze into each other’s eyes in the middle of forests with romantic songs playing in the background.
Whatever it was, you became a habit. Then my habit became a horrible addiction. And this addiction reminded me constantly that it would eventually kill me. Then it proceeded to do to me what God did to Moses…
You held my hand and took me on a journey out of hell. On our way out, I kept asking what the outside world was like but because you couldn’t explain it using words, you showed me in little ways:
You showed me when you laughed at me and teased me mercilessly about being weird and about not knowing things I should’ve known. Then, as if you had all the patience in the world, you taught me what I needed to know.
You showed me by always encouraging me to do new things that I was afraid to do. It didn’t matter that a few of those things were illegal…
You called me beautiful in the morning and called me beautiful at night, but it meant more to me when you called me beautiful straight out of the shower with my hair in a mess and with no make-up on.
We never stopped laughing, at each other and with each other. You never took yourself too seriously. And I could tell you anything…
You would hold my hand and kiss my forehead at the most random moments. Pray tell, how was I supposed to not fall for you??!
I wasn’t surprised though when, at the gates of hell, you let go of my hand and left me standing there. I was warned, wasn’t I? I was hoping that maybe when we get to the outside world, I would somehow make you see that you needed to be right there with me. But I should’ve known you were afraid, even more afraid than I was.
Suddenly, I was Moses outside the Promised Land. I could see the world, just as you described it, but I couldn’t go in. I saw Bella and Edward, still doing their thing in a forest, with the romantic background music. I saw Jack and Rose, but this time they were in a canoe. I even saw Ellen and Portia. Nobody was there alone.
So I turned back. I’m going back to the familiarity and the safety that is in hell. I’m going back to the days when I, Hitler and Saddam used to just chill and exchange war stories. I somehow missed the days when me and TuPac used to play pranks on Ghaddafi just to see him get upset. Good times, no stress, no worries…
Looking back now, I realize that the only thing our story had in common with Twilight was that both of us have hairy chests… like Edward. There’s no background music, no eye-gazing, no animalistic sex.
I hope you’re happy; as punishment for daring to go out and so that I would never even consider it again, the devil makes me write “NICCA REALLY IS DENZEL” 300 times on the whiteboard every day.
So, I just wanted to say a big SCREW YOU!!! Nicca don’t ever come near my side of hell again…