Welcome to The New Classic, where the past and the present merge, to form a new future.
Once that no one can see coming...
Join Angelo, Vanessa and the rest of the gang three and a half long years after that fateful night.
Lo kept count. V didn't...
Moodlist We Might Even Be Falling In Love - Victoria Monet Off The Grid - Alina Baraz featuring Khalid Soweto - Victony & Tempoe featuring Rema and Don Toliver 2 Sugar - Wizkid featuring Arya Starr Find Your Way Back - Beyoncé
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"Didn't anyone teach you not to take in strays?"
People tell you everything you need to know about them. Often without even asking.
If Selassie, or Kyah as I knew her at the time, was asked to describe herself using five words, the most likely response you'd get, would be no response at all.
At the best of times, she might politely decline to comment, but if you were one of the very few people lucky enough to have kept her company, she would most likely look you right in the eye with a small smile playing on her lips, before letting the silence that ensued answer for her.
My KyKy didn't like to talk about herself.
Along with an ever growing list of other things she didn't enjoy, that nickname included.
I didn't care though because nicknames were charming and personable, and so much of what I'd been trying to do with her as of late was centred around reminding her that she was, indeed, a person.
An actual, fully formed person, that was made with intention. A person whom deserved to love and to be loved.
Not a tool or weapon to be deployed.
Everybody knew me as Wild. The name came from the many exploits I got myself into as a child.
And it stuck.
It told people so much about me in such a concise way.
It spoke to how a childhood aversion to hairstyling of any form resulted most of my baby pictures featuring me with what could only be described as a curly bedhead. And it told the stories of how I used to bring home injured animals, resulting in enough trips to the shelter for the staff to be on first name basis with my mom and I. Those who knew me by the nickname were never surprised to hear that my mom had to put a leach on me as a toddler, whenever we went to the mall, as much as she abhorred the sight of her little boy with a brightly coloured harness on. And even a nurse commented on how well the name suited me, while he prepped me for an X-Ray of my broken fibula, after a particular ill considered leap off a climbing frame.
I had always just done whatever I wanted to do. And because my mom could never predict what I was going to do next, she started calling me her wild child. And the rest followed.
Of course, as I grew older, it became necessary for me to get a good handle in appropriateness, and with that, I learned to temper some my impulsiveness. And instead of doing, I started saying.
