IS IT LOVE, OR IS IT HATE THAT I’M FEELING?

When something is toxic, it is toxic, in whatever form it comes. It is worse when it comes in a form of a person that you really love and plan to spend your entire life with, then - BOOM! You have a love crazy psychopath literally bleeding in your hands, with cloudy one sided accusations thundering at you.

When you don’t need a love-interest in your life anymore, the most simplest, considerable thing to do is to let them know – break it down slowly…..or fast, but break it down. You might encounter some form of emotionally linear, nonlinear sob, shout filled resistance, even silence, when breaking your heart felt news to them. In the end the breaking-up job will be technically done.

On the other hand, when you don’t need a love-interest in your life anymore, do not go around bad-mouthing them for ill-treatment towards you, just because you want to leave them, hence you don’t want anyone else to be with them after you are over-and-done with the relationship.

So, the question is: Can you really ‘claim’ to be in a loving-relationship with someone and insist on bad-mouthing them in the faces of your friends and family for ill-treatment, which they did not dish out?   Yeah, you might dish out for the dog outside, then do the dishes after but never throw any dishes aimed at anyone inside the house, screaming obscenities.

There are unwise partners out there. Partners that do not know how to handle the metaphysical reaction that goes on inside them. When they are suddenly hit by the knowledge and truth, that they do not have that needed passion and attraction to keep up the flames of love blazing, they explode. However, this bursting out is an implosion that is misdirected outwardly. Where what is needed to be said is not said to their partner, and what is not needed to be said is said to everyone that cares to listen. In refined terms, called: ‘An impolitic love-hate manoeuvre’.    

An impolitic love-hate manoeuvre, is a very hard place between being loved and being hated when bad-mouthing rocks are aiming at you.  

One suddenly hears rumours about their ill-mannered behaviour from castigating neighbours, friends, family, including work colleagues about things they haven’t done.

“Did you hear what Dick did?”

“ What did Dick do?”

“Where was Dick? Where?”

Only to find out that your most precious has been creating nasty tales about you, only to make you back-up, then push you over the edge.

No one comes to Dick’s defence, shouting: “Hey, enough! Enough! Leave Dick alone! Dick don’t know jack!”

When a “I want out of this love-affair!” lover, pulls ‘an impolitic love-hate manoeuvre’ on you, the first thing that hits you is…..yes, confusion. “What in the living misery is going on?” then that confusion gradually manifest its self into “What did I do to deserve this?” Others go ‘schizo’ on the menacing bad-mouthing lover “Maybe I did do it, when I was asleep?”……”Eish, is it love, or hate that I’m feeling?”

At times it leads to an uproar. Where a man…. or  a woman is left with one choice when all has been done and nothing can never be done –  the coldest-end-of-the-stick, has been dished out: “You came here with the bare essentials and you shall depart with your bare essentials! I hate you! I hate you!”

It is said, “Everyone Needs Love!” In the end it’s the one person that you love most that destroys you the most – they know everything about you that you don’t even know yourself.

Yes everyone needs crazy love, however if crazy love doesn’t need you, let crazy love leave.

WORD TO A LOVE-HATE REVOLUTION

Linda Sakazi Thwala

SPEAK LESS AND LISTEN MORE

When I committed myself into it, I knew the expectations that awaited me. I was prepared for the eventualities that will huddle me surprisingly without any warning, the unlikely overtures of a story that began unfolding many years ago – years that brought me to these terms of existence, haggard with joy, laughter, pain, sorrow, tears and smiles.   

These terms of existence that were a soothing ease during the tender years of having been christened to who I am and what I was meant to be in this life.

As a young boy, I preferred to keep quiet and watch, the perplexities of human acts. Logged in the quiet, peaceful enclosure of my mental and emotional cognoscenti of what is and what will be, to what is unfolding and recorded by my eyes and ears of being. I was a humanist in the making then, trying to make sense of everything that was going on, without a thorough comprehension of many religious and non-religious beliefs groupings that cordoned the confirmed and the non-confirmed eventualities of our (humans) managed lives.  

I saw those that conformed under political constrains, and I saw those who were non-conformist to their pious conditions, and those that swayed without the knowledge of their impish standpoint, for not belonging to any convictions, beliefs, habitation and cohabitation standards.

I committed myself into it, amidst the vendor assistant duties that my grandmother enforced without relent in a taxi, bus, fruit-and-vegetable stalls, and coal-smoke infested field, that adjoined Thokoza and Katlehong. As the unknown Bee stung my finger, and left a pulsating blood-filled lump that told a history of the enfeeble enmity that ate away into the core of our beloved country.  

I took it all in - in the words and phrases, in the multifaceted tongues that coloured my hearing, the clicks and taut dialects of humanity that surrounded my fascination. The hostel-dwellers that gyrated routinely to the claps of the warrior dance, Idlamu, when the colourful attired women and children, men with Holy sticks, had returned from the Holy Houses, from renewing their vows of assorted worship. Culinary smells inviting the empty stomachs in need. The rectangle dusty fields filled with keen young men in pursuit of thee circular cow skin, to control, manoeuvre and place it beyond the awaiting posts – the celebrated game.

In walks of experimentation with my peers, I preferred to keep quiet and listen to airy prattles about this and that, that actually meant nothing, but everything in a young boy’s heart.               

        

An Older Man cried out, “Speak less and listen more, young ones, wait for your turn to speak.”

When I committed myself into it, I knew the expectations that awaited me. I knew that in life we die in the fated evening and we are resuscitated in the assured morning, to try and make amends of the dark  wrongs that were written on previous light days that were meant to be right.     

WORD TO THE LIFE REVOLUTION

Linda Sakazi Thwala