Bee sting.


I got stung by a bee today. For the first time in my life. It saw the back of my head, chose a spot and zoomed in. I had to remove it physically.

At first it was just a painful sting, and then a few minutes later, the pain increased to almost unbearable levels. I could feel the specific place it stang pulsating with pain.

If I believed in omens, I would have googled to see if being bitten by bees is a sign of good luck or something equally frivolous( hehe) .

And as I entered the house, I wanted to tell someone about that bee sting. I was itching to share it with someone who gets it. I didn’t get to tell anyone.

Do you get lonely? We asked ourselves a while ago with my friends. It was a vulnerable question, at least for me. Because admitting that I do , meant admitting that I needed people, that I needed someone to tell about a bee sting.

And I’ve lived my whole life aspiring to never need people. I discard humans who look and act like they don’t need me as fast as I unfollow misogynists from my social media timelines.

Needing human beings would require me to admit that the ones I once needed weren’t there for me. And that hurt. And that made me feel less worthy. And they failed me.

It will require me to let go of my defence mechanisms. Defence mechanisms are there for a reason. A nation doesn’t train its military for fun purposes. Same with my insides. They didn’t build those walls because they were idle.

Allowing myself to agree that I need people, will be to look at myself and somehow think that i’m not enough. And I am not. I exist in an ecosystem. Organisms in an ecosystem coexist with each having its own function to play in the overall scheme of things. I enjoy meeting my friends. They build me up. I love listening to my brother, and his laughter. That boy warms my heart. And on and on I could go on.

But imagine taking the trained men, they are usually mostly men, from an army barracks, and telling them to drop their guns and go greeting people outside there just like that. No plan, no strategy, no nothing. That the defence they’ve been putting out, is no longer required. That its safe out there. And even when it isn’t, they are perfectly capable of handling it without their learned defence mechanisms.

That’s how I feel.

Out there. With no gun, no strategy, no plan. Greeting humans. Potential enemies. Potential bad people. Potential suspects. They could be great humans too. They could be lovely souls that will warm my heart. They could be my partner who thinks going to Congo isn’t an extreme sport.

But how will I know?

I need people.

This might take a while to sink in. And its okay. For it to take time. For me to take time. Crashing walls is easy. But collecting that debris isn’t. And cleaning up the space. And rehabilitating the place maybe to a beautiful garden. Beautiful things take time.

So I watch some lady with a voice i’m extremely envious of, with confidence for days, as I let it sink in, that its okay to need someone to tell about a bee sting.

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