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Why I Am Not Loving Again.

Albert is a qualified love wizard who uses his great writing skills to inspire the love nation.

What is love.

Love is an amazing journey agreed by two parties to walk together and stick together despite the challenges. It is a secure feeling, arguably the most secure feeling that keeps relationships strong and glued.

Love is being there for one another in times of distress, love means knowing another person better and knowing the things that make him happy. Love is patience, so that even when you disagree you give your ears to your partner and reason together.

Love means appreciating, from the most complex things to the simplest of thing to motivate your spouse, love is equality so that you love one another equally, respect one another equally and most important, care for one another equally.

However, love is scary. It means giving someone a map of all your flaws and imperfections and putting faith in them not to abuse that power bestowed to your lover. What is even exciting is that love makes you do the hardest thing a human can ever do, it makes you vulnerable.

A lovely couple

A lovely couple

My beautiful Yolanda

Well, there is something about me and love that goes against my grain. It leaves me shivering even in the scorching sun. I used to have this lass, A beautiful, intelligent girl who stimulated my nerves. This was many years ago, approximately even-eight years ago. She was an attractive, light-skinned girl who wore spectacles. She is probably the reason I hate anybody in glasses, she had deep dimples which I was crazy about, her black silk hair attracted all and sundry to want to have a chat with her.

Yolanda was an amazing girl, superb in her thinking and talented with a visibly bright future. I was probably too young to contemplate love, I was in my early teens, young and innocent. Never had I been in a relationship before and honestly I was never going to think of it. I had been a diligent student who religiously clung to my teacher's advice. Madam Marwa was a great teacher, she was a marvellous teacher, one who could inspire hope in our minds, ignite the imagination and instil the love for learning with a lot of ease. She did everything to make the class fun, lively and exciting. I still owe a lot to her and remain profoundly thankful for helping me become a better person.

Much said I wasn't bright in my academics. I fell in that category of the academic dwarfs, those who were not performers. I had always felt ashamed of myself for not being smart and the latter had made me feel unappreciated. "You are smart Albert, we all have different abilities. Find your path." Yolanda had always told me. I had never digested her words, for fear that she is just trying to give me hope and that she did not mean her words I had never bothered to " find my path" as advised.

Truth be said her advice came in handy years later, I was to realise we all have unique abilities. If you think being a bright student is all about being great in academics, you are wrong. Who told you what is being bright and what not? If scoring 95% was being bright, the world would be ruled by nerds. Sadly, that is not the case today. Taking nothing away from the academically bright students, the point I am trying to put here is that there are a lot more things in life to target, even if you are not as good as academically great. I know a number of students, who never scored less than 95% marks. But if you ask them about a talent other than academics, most of them go blank.

Life is about exploring. There are millions of ways you can live your life and still be happy, despite being a student with great marks. The feeling of being not better than others starts when we start comparing ourselves with others around us.

A beautiful school gorl

A beautiful school gorl

Goodbye love!!!

Yolanda had this unique thing I envied about her, she was easily accepted by everyone. My parents cherished her. She had suddenly become a family member. My siblings looked forward to weekends with zeal to see her, my parents always made it their business to know why Yolanda had not come home during rare occasions she had missed. Our love was always at its peak, but with us beside one another it had touched its depth. There was no doubt we were destined to the aisle young as we were. Sure enough, the best way to tell about love is when someone else's interest trump you down. I was down, down to the ground in as far as love is concerned.

It was a day like no other. My sister Elsie was scheduled to celebrate her birthday. Preparations were underway for lively celebrations, lots of food prepared for the unique occasion. Then a suggestion hit my brain, If this was to be then it was today. I notified my mum I was leaving for town.

I had known Yolanda's love for teddy bears and I knew she would fancy the gift I bought. I bought a beautiful pink teddy bear, I was in the cab headed for home when the call started tripling in. I ignored the numerous calls assuming they were meant to check on me. Then a text came in, then anxiety. I was tempted to read the text. " Albert, Yolanda was on her way home when she had a fatal accident, please come to Mediheal Funeral Home."

I quit loving.

Lover of sadness

Lover of sadness

I quit loving.

— Albert

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