The Age of Uncertainty

There’s something so comforting about being in the arms of the night; for the lonesome heart, the restless soul and your everyday average seeker, for each to embrace it when left with nowhere to turn. There’s just something so revealing about the darkness, to make it so perfect for soul searching. When the walls come down and all your layers stripped off; naked, left with nothing but the porcelain skin enveloping your scrawny frame. There’re cracks all over from all the times you fell. From every time you failed. And it’s just plain surprising how you still manage to drag your fragile self every other day convinced that you finally let the old ways die. Staring at the ceiling, you see the constellation of ironies. One that hits a little different; you don’t need light for self-reflection.

My soul is a maze, engulfed by a blanket that puts the night to shame. The fabric of which blind choices that I had woven, drunk on the deception that comes with being young; I have all the time in the world.

Reality didn’t come to play. Now that I’m counting days till I step into the world to do something greater than myself, the promise of a greater perhaps flickers in a distance with the echoing of Jim Rohn’s screaming “you messed uuup”

Those who have gold do not know it’s worth. Classic case here with the comfort that came with the school system. I put off facing the real world by convincing myself and everyone else that what I was doing was of extreme urgency and importance. The schooling that is; that I barely was doing. Now that I’m almost being stripped off of that privilege, I’m looking back and realizing that I slept my way out of four years just because. I’m married to the fact that I’ve all along been the clichéd “own worst enemy.”

Sadly, for what I lack in terms of preparation, I didn’t make up for in social skills or grades or anything in that matter. For four years, my days have just been minutes wasted by this man-child who should have known better. “No regrets” doesn’t apply in this case when my poor judgement compounds to a lot to regret about. So it makes perfect sense being here right now. In search of a way to uncage myself and jump off this plane. I’ve been high for far too long in this dimension of the insane.

But how do you undo years of messes you’ve made in a snap? The straightforward answer would be you don’t. It’s a process and not an event. You just start where you’re at; accepting; that it is what it is. The title that “I’ll never be enough” won’t work for you. This is not a mopping phase. You’ll need to come up with a new working title like “a work-in-progress” or something of the sort as you hit us with the plot twist that really matters in this story.

That’s talk though you see. I’ve been retelling myself this for as long as I can remember but never having the courage to jump ship. So how is today different?

Well, for starters, surging through me is the conviction of a man who’s had enough. My eyes just washed away my clouded judgement assuring me that the sun is not the only thing that will rise tomorrow. I owe at least that to myself. I was reading the ‘life is what you make it’ book by Peter Buffett and I highlighted this line… “For those whom much has been given, much is expected.” The gift of life in itself is too much of a blessing, that leaves me with a lot of pending work left. Now I know.

I’m stepping into tomorrow and the hundreds more after that, having no idea what they hold. Or where I’m going to end up. But my vessel runs on hope that draws from the night. One that all those afraid of the dark have no idea they’re missing out on. The promise that tomorrow will be different.

Wow! It’s 2 o’clock. And I’ve never been this eager to witness a new dawn. I better get some shut-eye.

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change, darkness, dawn, fragile, insomnia, night, self-reflection, sleep, uncertainty


Hassan Kassim

Hassan Kassim is a Mombasa-based Creative non-fiction writer, recently longlisted for the Toyin Falola prize, blogger and translator of Kiswahili work. A beneficiary of the Penpen program by African Writers Development Trust(AWDT) commissioned by Culture at Work Africa and the European Union(E.U), and holds his Bachelor’s degree in Maritime Management. Hassan writes about the ill-documented Communities of Coastal Kenya. His work has appeared in Writers Space Africa; his 2 non-fiction stories published in the anthology 'Twaweza,' a collaborative effort of 12 African writers on the African identity and set to appear in the forthcoming anthology for the Toyin Falola prize.

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