Unsent Letters.

Today as I was cleaning my room, I cam across a brown box filled with well addressed and sealed letters that never made it to the post office. In that moment, a cold feverish but awesome sensation filled my veins and my heart got heavy with wonder but not regret.

Back in time, I was a shy little fellow, bullied and mostly lonely. I was an introvert of all sorts, I sat in corners and thought of things people my age didn’t have to think about/worry about. I hated maths but aced English class, I was very obedient, very humble, but with a crazy mind. All this because I loved my secrecy and I feared the cane so I had to act my life through childhood, hence the unsent letters.

In most of these letters, I attacked all those who ever hurt me, describing them in so much detail, I made some look like the devil itself and others like the devil’s advocate. I literally killed all those who bullied me and in these letters, I took off time and gave them a painful death.
I couldn’t talk to anyone, because you only talked to mzee when he/she talked to you. Otherwise, all I had to do was be silent lest I make a mistake worth the whip.

Looking back, I am lowkey wondering why something so wrong felt so right.
These letters could get me into so much trouble, but I still went ahead to write, address, and seal them and it’s only after then that I felt humane again, all hatred sealed in an envelope.

How different am I from those that bullied me??



  1. I have heard that venting through writing is quite therapeutic.
    I still write those angry letters since I’m not good with the whole verbal venting thing *hides*

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s