CROSSROADS

I have been told for so long to be a man, a real man and I am in a crisis, I battle demons, I fight darkness, I beat myself, I search within for that real man and I still haven't figured out how to be one.

I have no spine, I lack the back bone, or may be I have them but know nothing about being a real man, the one they always tell me to be.
I am weak, I am soft, I dream, I let emotions run their course, I feel when as a man I should be cold, hard as stone.

I am still hanging in here walking blindly in the hope that I will find the man they want me to be that I know nothing of. I feel helpless but then again, how does a real man ask for help? How does he say the right thing he needs to say? What guarantee does he have that the very words he may say in that one moment of self abandon to his weakness will not be used to witness against his manliness when the hands of the clock turn? The more I think about it, the deeper I sink into this dark abyss, lost yet I can't ask for directions lest I get lost further than I am now in the process of being directed.

I know I have tried and keep trying but what is trying when you have nothing to show for it? What proves you have done something when there are little or no positive results to show for it? How do you explain when things beyond your control cannot allow you to be where you ought to be? How do you even explain how long it is taking or has taken when the judge, jury and executioner already know the outcome, when your sentence is already passed no matter your defense, proof and evidence to the contrary?

I wake up in the morning, look at myself in the mirror and see a pathetic failure, a veritable coward, a man without balls and to make it worse, they never miss the chance to remind me of that. Their voices replay in my head like a stuck grammaphone reminding me that I am nothing but empty trousers, beards, bass and different genitals.

Sometimes I wake up because I must. I think of life, of where I am and where I know I should be and I hate the morning sun, it announces proudly to me, the beginning of a new day, a chapter in the Chronicles of a chronic failure, it reminds me of another trial that flops, it reminds me of the how hard I have tried in the silent moments that I keep under wraps, the things I do without announcing, the plans, the dreams and visions I have since learnt to be aftaid to speak about loudly because they make no sense when there is no evidence of progress.

I swear I hang on because of the smile of a little girl who awakens the child in me. Sometimes I fight because of her, I keep fighting because of her and sometimes I wake up and face these dark days because when I think about her I tell myself, I can do this one more day.

I am waiting to be a man, a real man like the men out there, a true definition of a man that I have never been and may become or never become in future. The future that has always promised me heaven and delivered hell. Maybe one day I will find him, we will unite and become one and I will begin talking where all real men talk. I will find him one day or find a gun, put it in the head of this other weak man and send him to the other world so that the real man may finally reveal himself. I hate this man, I loathe him, I can't stand him but I keep hanging in there even though he disappoints me. I am at crossroads, the only thing that keeps me here from turning back is the hope that I might just accidentally stumble upon the right path in this darkness and find a miracle.

The story of my life depresses me. The pressure to become, the pressure to prove is overwhelming, what can a mortal man do? May the day break before the darkness takes me to where I can never return, the point of no return keeps calling me, every morning I wake up it entices me seductively, she asks me, what else is there to hold on to? What is there to live for? What is there to fight for? May the day break, for the night has been too long and I am afraid I can't take it anymore because each passing day  my strength is falling me, I am a weak man I agree, but how strong can I be when being strong over the years has left me with nothing, not even a morsel of self dignity. May the day break.

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