I was once told that you should marry not the one you love, that you should rather marry your best friend. They said that even the greatest of love shall fade over time, and it all turns into nothingness. Just a bitter memory of what was.
They said marriage is not a bed of roses, but a field of thorns surrounding a precious rose. Apparently after the honeymoon phase is over, the actual marriage begins. I would not know, I am not married after all.
Boitumelo Letsatsi would, she had been married for just over a year when her marriage started crumbling. She realised she was stepping out of the honeymoon phase and into the marriage. Only her transition wasn't pretty.
If the marriage was a cake, my theory would be that too much sugar and too little flour were added into the mixture. Plus the batter was probably under mixed, resulting in a soft crumbly cake.
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She realised her marriage had no foundation, that they were not best friends, they were incompatibles. But, she loved him. So she fought for their love, fought so hard she began fighting herself.
They would disagree over countless things. A tiny disagreement turned into an argument. An argument resulted in him storming out the house. Being away from her made him turn to man's best friend, alcohol.
He couldn't think straight. Failure to think straight made him call her names. The name calling bred insults. The insults stirred up deep anger. The anger made her talk back, that only fueled his anger. And, his anger was different from hers.
His was venomous, his drove him into a fit of rage. He did things he would regret the next day when he sobered up. He apologized profusely, was sweet to her. That reminded her of their 'love' and gave her the motivation not to give up.
She kept fighting. She got the same results. The same bruises, the same busted lips, the same broken arms, the same fractures, the same bruised ribs...
But one thing that changed was the emotional scars and her hope for their love. With each fight, the scars got deeper while her hope faded. Just like their love.
There was nothing left to do, but to just keep on Surviving.
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~Bee♡
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Surviving ||On Hold
General Fiction"Ina lebe seromo." This is a Setswana proverb that means: you are your name. Your name is your destiny, it is who you become, and it is you. Batswana, like most if not all Africans, understand that your name defines your fate. That your name shape...
