Seemingly possible miracles should never be called miracles after all. A miracle should be when the impossible tend to happen; now that’s miraculous.
Everyone has lived with a prearranged plan for that day noone has yet lived in, that day called tomorrow. Hopes, wishes, plans, have been set aside for a futuristic day to come. But if I may ask, all the strain done for tomorrow’s sake, can it be labeled as faith or is it just a practice merely done for purposes of maintaining cultural norms?
Whenever one starts at something you get to ask yourself questions like, “when should I put a stop to this?”, “am I to stop?”, “what shall mark an end to this?”.
When I started out with #Blessing_Tsvangirai I went through similar questions. I mean, nobody really expects a union in which the girlfriend is older to continue for long, do you even? That’s my point.
The thoughts of stopping some day that I used to hold began to wear of gradually. I started to play around with the idea of the best way to propose marriage. I started thinking of her as a wife rather than a girlfriend. I started feeling like, “this just doesn’t have to stop!”
I am sure I do not hold these sentiments alone although I might be alone in voicing them. I am seriously disgusted by the behaviour of some of the members of the opposite gender. It appears as if they have no sense of decorum at all. There are quite a number who just arbitrarily yank out their winkies from their trousers and point at some tree, wall, wheel or whatever feature is convenient at that particular moment and wee! Thank goodness beings move, lest we would have cases of children that have been on the receiving end of these seemingly haphazardly irrigating human pipes. (I would bet my bottom dollar that there are cases, even animals that have been urinated upon although no one would admit to it- whether they have been the urinator or the urinatedee.) The case of that musician who did it on some under-age girl is…
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I have never felt so loved in my entire life. It feels very much like a new experience altogether.
I am not sure when or how exactly I met Blessing Tsvangirai. The next thing I remember is us two sitting out all night long talking about her life. First she lied that she was fifteen years older then she told me the truth, it was just a four year difference. During the night long chataway she expressed her wish to one day visit the nearby mountains and I found myself promising that I would take her there whenever she wanted. I had my first date.
Since then she has made me think that my life is not complete without her…