Tina Muzondo is a Zimbabwean born writer with a keen interest in relationships, and how we as humans connect with each other. Her writing is deeply personal, simple and honest.
I’m driving to your house. I can’t wait to see you, touch you, kiss you. I can’t wait to fix it. I can’t wait to make it better.
I woke up one morning with an all-consuming thought pounding against my brain, in the same aggressive manner that a headache does.
Weepy Open-book : Why do I always seem to be the one with problems? Observant Judge and jury: Because you just are. It’s not our fault you’re such a mess.
Life. How quickly it changes, without warning, as quickly as a breath, as suddenly as the blink of an eye. I sat outside her bedroom door, knowing that she wouldn’t call for me. She wouldn’t come out, and she wouldn’t make a sound for a while. It was her way. It was her custom to hibernate, to process, to ponder before she resurfaced. By the time she did, she’d have figured out a way to be okay. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want her to journey towards acceptance alone. She’d suffered a great loss. My best friend was grieving, mourning, processing alone. In my selfishness I wanted to suffer with her, I wanted to dive into the trenches and wade through muddy waters with her. But she wouldn’t let me. She couldn’t.
Laying side by side, under the stars, talking about nothing in particular. A perfect cliche. We dream out loud about the polished, edited versions of our future life together.
I am on one side of a very awkward conversation. I keep looking at you like you’re about to disappear. I’m making mental notes about every single feature on your face.
You’re both sitting in the car, the silence between you ringing in your ears. Beside that lamp post that reminds you of Narnia. There’s a tension in the air that you can’t deny, or ignore any longer. Tonight was the night. It’s the night you first began to realise that you’re falling in love with a real person, not a fantasy. He’s not a storybook character. He’s not some perfectly chiseled glorified celebrity that you’ll never have. He’s not the guy across the room who’s never even said your name.
Ruvimbo: Why haven’t you been taking my calls, or answering my texts? Amara: I’ve been busy, I told you. School, church, family stuff. My world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.