More Thoughts on Love

She deserves pity? Is that what you want to say, my good Prince? But for the sake of pity and for the sake of doing her a good turn, was it right to insult another, a noble and spotless girl, to humiliate her in her rival’s haughty, hate-filled eyes? What price pity after that?

The Idiot – Dostoevsky

I like to have imaginary conversations with people I know I’ll probably never see again. And sometimes I discover some truths by doing this. I’ve been thinking today about a book by Dostoevsky which has made a significant impact on my life. It is called The Idiot. What my imaginary conversation revealed is why exactly I keep reading his books: because Dostoevsky is exactly like me in one respect. He is a very strong idealist who is over-aware of the realities of life. He puts up standards and ideals which he believes in and we all should strive for, and then crushes them under the weight of reality.

As I went for a walk today I was thinking about the moral of the story of The Idiot. Near the end one of the characters confront the main character and tells him that it was simply wrong to choose a broken and corrupt woman over a pure and innocent one. Loving the broken one is not wrong. It is totally okay. What was evil is choosing her to the detriment of one who also loves him and is better than the corrupt girl.

If you’re a fan of the show called Once Upon a Time I can put it like this. It is honourable and beautiful for Belle to fall in love with Rumpelstiltskin despite his evil nature. In time her love makes him beautiful anyway. What is not honourable and downright evil would be for Snow White to divorce the just, upright and good Charming to be with Rumpelstiltskin, especially if she still loves Charming.

I know for my part it is easier to love fallen people. And I think this is a very mainstream idea. Take a look at some of our favourite characters from series and movies: Sherlock, House, Once Upon a Time (think of Hook). Think of your favourite movie or series, and ask yourself whether you would like the hero more if he or she was more honourable, good and pure? I realise that multifaceted characters are more interesting. But think about that. Is that hero you like someone you would really date? Or would you constantly have fights over this or that?

Now the problem with this is we tend to create a very static image of fictional characters and real people that really try to be good. We think of them as being unchangeable, conservative, hardheaded and simplistic, when they are simply good and struggle for their lives to hold onto what is good.

What is tragic is the tendency to therefore choose the bad over the good.

Screw all of the above. I’m talking in riddles. Let me be honest. I’m still thinking about a girl I met a week or so ago (we talked online for weeks before that). She’s a fan of Once Upon a Time and she really likes the characters of Emma and Hook. I can’t help but feel that she has the same type of standard or expectations to real relationships: that she wants someone who is bad but tries to be good. An anti-hero type of person. Who wants the boring old Prince Charming when you can have this passionate, struggling man who has done evil in his past but wants to make up for it for you? The perception is that Charming isn’t struggling to do good. He just “is” good. And somehow that makes him less worthy. I’m not a good man. And definitely not attractive. I know that. In a recent post I made that very damn clear. I just feel frustrated in failing to meet her expectations.

I want to give her this fairy tale type of love. If only she for one moment put away her ideals. Not ignore them, just put them in their right place.


Two Dreams and Some Thoughts

Why do I always write when I really should be working? I made this coffee so I could work, but now I’m gonna waste my fourth cup writing this!

I dreamed of you again. Twice in two days I think. They were not long and complicated but just short and impressive.

In the first dream we were at some theater, sitting close to the show. Then a group of people, you among them, came to sit next to us. I remember being so stunned at your face! It was so beautiful. At one point I had to stand up to allow someone move out of the row. But I fell backwards, and for a moment I just sat there and stared at you.

The second dream had you sitting on some couch talking to someone. But here your face was very distinct. You had red hair – I love that! – and gorgeous green eyes. The eyes were as intense as those of Alexandra Daddario, but softer and more lovely.

If there is one thing that Dostoevsky taught me, it is that you should not allow dreams and naive expectations to ruin reality. I cannot expect you to look like this or that, and then, when I finally meet you, reject you because you don’t conform to my dreams, wishes or expectations.

I am a dreamer. Not only a night dreamer but also a daydreamer. I often – (nowadays constantly) imagine how I’m going to meet you. Maybe it will be outside a class, maybe at a shop. Maybe when I walk the dog you will come out of nowhere with your dog and walk with me. Maybe you will be a brunette, maybe blond. You might be tall and skinny, or short, but wholesome. I don’t know. I usually imagine someone amazingly beautiful, but I won’t let my expectations blind me.

It frightens me how some people – myself included – unconsciously build up expectations based on what they watch and read. In this series, Once Upon a Time, you come across very handsome men, and all of them are good at heart. Even the pirate has depth to him. And it worries me how some girls may really come to expect that, and then turn down guys who don’t superficially meet that standard. And they do so without realising it. I think that’s why my favourite woman in the show is Belle. She loves the worst man in town: a monster, a murderer, a magician… a broken man. And she makes him whole. Chesterton was right when he said that the moral of Beauty and the Beast is that a thing must be loved before it is lovable.

I know this is also an expectation on my part. I hope you are a Belle type of person who simply loves me regardlessly and without reason. But even if this is not the case I will still love you and appreciate you.


Enjoy this

(The spoilers are not too important)


The Selfish Christian Overthinker and Giving Up Love

I want to write like a poet or some great writer like Tolstoy, but I am afraid I cannot. And I know the most important part of any story or article or whatever is the beginning. I’m never good at beginning anything. With that in mind, I want to go through the mental steps an overthinker goes through to fight against his own selfish interests for the sake of someone he may or may not love. He is not sure himself whether or not he does, and that in itself is another thought that keeps him busy for hours on end. But to avoid getting sidetracked, let’s keep to his thoughts.

Before we start, it is worthwhile to consider what C. S. Lewis said in The Screwtape Letters. In one letter the demon Screwtape writes to his inferior, Wormwood, on the benefits of helping his “patient” (us) actually do good things. He notes that if the patient finally achieves a good deed, then Wormwood should immediately make him feel proud of that good deed. And if he manages to overcome that pride, then he should be made proud of overcoming that pride, and so on. This is crucial to understanding the overthinker’s predicament: at each step of the way he questions whether or not his actions are ultimately just selfish, even when he is doing good. He cannot say “no, this is not selfish” as then he would doubt himself and think he is deceiving himself and it really is selfish. And of course, he cannot say “yes, it is selfish” as that would just put him back to square one on what the “right” choice is. And that’s the problem of his story: he doesn’t know what is the “right” thing to do, and he doesn’t know whether he does it because it is right or because he is selfish. With this being said, let’s begin.

The Overthinker met a girl. That was a week ago. The Overthinker, being a Christian and knowing he cannot hide anything from God, admitted that he was, at least a little bit, disappointed in the girl. She wasn’t as beautiful as he expected. He is ashamed to say it, but he cannot and should not hide this. The whole week he started to agree with the girl. She said that she is not the girl for him, and vice versa. Thinking about this – always thinking – he began to agree. “After all”, he thinks, “she is perhaps kinda shallow”. She hasn’t really shown any depth in her actions or interests, and all she seems interested in is Harry Potter and a series called Once Upon a Time. (It should be noted that the girl turned The Overthinker into a fan of both of these, and he now appreciates why she likes them. This was just his first judgmental impression). She did not give the ‘right’ answer to his long philosophical message on Chesterton’s idea on how this world really is a Fairy Tale. She did not reply to any of his manipulatively put status messages quoting Dostoevsky or C. S. Lewis. She has not shown any interest in his life, especially his “very deep” thoughts.

But being a Christian, and wanting to do what is right, he is aware of all this egoism in his actions and expectations. For a better part of him, a much purer part, is aware of her beauty. But remember, he is an overthinker.

She did not look like she did on her Facebook pictures. And she wore glasses. Not a single one of the pictures had her wearing them. Not that glasses are unattractive, but simply that it was unexpected. The Overthinker realised afterwards that he, ironically, also wore glasses. Only these glasses were not made out of, well, glass, but out of egoism and broken expectations. But he had his just reward in that these glasses did not help his sight but blinded him to her true beauty. Yes, he was stupid and selfish to expect her to look like those pictures. But, during the week after his “disappointment” he began to overthink this again. “But she really IS beautiful! Those photos are NOT lying. She could be this physical beauty any time she wishes. It would be stupid – insanely stupid – to hold her plainness at the moment against her if, who knows, a day later she could look like that!”. But, aware of his prior egoism of expecting her to be beautiful, he now realises that it is just as wrong to regain an interest in her simply because of how she could look. The one was selfish in expecting beauty, but this is shallow in only wanting her because of her possible beauty.

But what about all that other so called shallowness on her part? The Overthinker is quite aware of his own condescension on this issue and mocks himself each day for daring to think that he is not shallow. He knows this very well and this point should be made very clear: The Overthinker hates his egoism. He hates himself for it each day and he mocks himself: “Oh, I’m so special and smart and deep and intelligent! Oh, everyone worship me!”. He thinks it is healthy to mock himself like that, each day, at least twice a day, and he is most probably right. But, he overthinks, you cannot atone for your egoism by doing penance for it.

And so he realises inescapably that he really is a bad fellow. He knows he is shallow for expecting deepness, egotistical for expecting meekness, and superficial for wanting beauty when he knows for a fact (this is not humility, it really is a fact) that he is ugly. And this brings us to the overthinker’s opinion of himself. He knows that he disappointed her just as much by his own appearance, that he was awkward and stupid, and, having difficulty in speaking (a real physical difficulty) that he is physically a worm before her, regardless of how he views her.

It came as a slight surprise to The Overthinker – but not to anyone reading this – that the day did not turn out as he wanted it, and also that she clearly said afterwards that they are not meant for each other. As she put it, “We ‘click’ as friends, but I want something more”. As noted, the Overthinker slowly came to agree.

And yet, in spite of it all, The Overthinker cannot help but remember all the nice things. The beauty in her pictures are not just superficial, but real true beauty. Those eyes and face show such warmth and joyfulness. And for a moment on the day he met her he could see past the “not as beautiful” look on her face into her true beauty. This date, by the way, took place at an animal shelter. On that specific day they had a “puppy day” where people could come and play with these puppies and adopt them. What The Overthinker recalls is one scene where this girl, with a puppy in her arms, was struggling to keep the furry monster from licking her in her face, almost making her drop her glasses. The impression of this scene on his soul is difficult to express. The closest word he could come up with is simply “lovely”. A lovely scene. Or possibly a lovely girl? One scene that went through his glasses.

All of the above are just an explanation for the current thoughts that are overwhelming him. He still has some hopes, the poor fool! He realises this, but it bothers him that his hopes may still not be pure. “She is probably right. We are not meant for each other. So why still hope if you don’t really want to hope?”. But then he wonders “But isn’t it still out of egoism that I think she is not right for me? Isn’t that ungratefulness?”. He really doesn’t understand why he still hopes. He points to all of the above so called flaws of her when trying to convince himself that he really shouldn’t even want to hope. But he still cannot help but think about those two crazy words: “What if?”.

But there are two thoughts that trouble The Overthinker. Should he pursue her despite his evilness? That recognizing his evil would be sufficient? Or should he do the honourable thing: recognise how wretched he is and spare her the trouble? But then, overthinking it, he realises two additional things. Firstly, how dare he even pursue her when she made it quite clear that she doesn’t want to like him like that? That’s not right. Wouldn’t he be disrepecting her choice by irritating her and bothering her with his actions? But the other thing is he wonders whether he is not really afraid of irritating her out of some noble sentiment, but rather out of fear of final rejection? If the latter, then he is a coward. And if he is a coward, then he has even more reason to leave her alone. It could be the noble possibility of him wanting to respect her choice and not irritate her, that he really does not deserve her and leave her alone, but he cannot trust himself that this is his true motive.

Reaching the apex of his own limited understanding, he throws himself over to God. He tells Him every single thing that has been said above. But even in his prayer he overthinks and doubts himself.

“Lord, I am evil. I’m immature, ugly and a coward. I think I love her, but I really don’t know. I honestly don’t even know if I really even want her. She does seem a bit shallow, and she did disappoint me in how she looks. I know I am ungrateful for thinking this, and I really am sorry and I hate myself for blinding myself to her beauty. But she is also very nice, she definitely has a good heart, and the pictures – I know I am perhaps superficial for still clinging on to them – do at least show her loveliness, a loveliness you honored me to see at least for one second. Lord, I don’t know what to do. I want to respect her choice. And therefore I want her to be the one to tell me if she wants to meet again. Not out of pride, but out of respect. I honestly do not want to upset her life by insisting on seeing her again. I had my chance and I blew it. And I have no right to insist on another chance. But then again, I do want to pursue her. That’s what a just and chivalrous man (a man and not a boy like me) would do. I don’t want to miss my chance waiting if all I need to do is ask. But this might just irritate her, and lead to her cutting me off completely. And if she says yes, how do I know I won’t mess it up like last time? Do I even honestly want to go through the trouble again (forgive me). And even if it does work out, as I said, perhaps after all I don’t even want her? And it just leads to more pain for her? Or am I a coward who is more afraid of the pain for myself than for her? Or perhaps I will be overjoyed, but then I curse her to live with me. And perhaps I’ll mess it up anyway. So what do I do? What choice should I make? I don’t expect some miraculous sign. I want guidance”.

After catching his breath, he continues:

“At the very least, at least do what is best for her, even if it means her cutting me out of her life”.

“But do I mean this? Am I noble in saying this? A part of me, out of some selfish manipulative pride thinks I can deceive even YOU, thinking ‘Tell Him you give her up, and he will give her to you because of your meekness’. And how do I know that even admitting this deception makes my intentions pure? Perhaps in my heart of hearts I really do want You to bring us together out of some selfish reward for me “giving” her up (her whom I cannot even give). And if this is the case, do I even mean it when I ask You to do what is best for her if it means cutting me out of her life? I hope at least one small honourable part of me, even if just a grain of sand, really means this”.

And this he prayed, but when he stopped he still did not know what to do.



I’m ugly, shallow and ungrateful
I dream dreams just to throw them away,
And then cry my eyes out looking for the pieces.

I may have hurt you,
Or perhaps just disappointed you,
Or hopefully just bored you.

But whatever the case,
I’m sorry.

Sorry for being superficial,
Sorry for being awkward,
Sorry for being stupid,
And sorry for not appreciating you.

I’m The Idiot

He is either a physician, or really a man possessed of exceptional intelligence who can foresee a great deal. (But that he is, when all’s said and done, an idiot, of that there can be no doubt whatever.)

There’s this book called The Idiot by Dostoevsky. It is about Prince Myshkin (with “prince” being a common title for many people in 19th century Russia). Myshkin, or just called “The Prince” suffered from some mental disease which kept him from being normal until about 28. As in, he couldn’t reason quite well before that.

But, at the beginning when we are introduced to him, he is in a very good state of mind. He could read people, understand and analyse situations, and, most importantly he is a “wholly virtuous man”. He’s just a good guy. He never lies, is socially awkward, and tends to do what’s good.

I read this book once before and I’m reading it again at the moment. I know these last 80 pages will be disaster on every turn. No one will be happy at the end.

What bothers me the most about Myshkin is how people would call him an “idiot” while acknowledging his good heart and even his intellect. As I said, initially he was well aware of people’s motives and he could come up with ingenious solutions. What I hate is them calling him an idiot because they think it is stupid to be so utterly good hearted. And the tragic irony is that by the end of the book all that has happened to him made him return to be an actual idiot, devoid of reasoning. That’s tragic indeed.

Now I’m not a “wholly virtuous man”. But I’ve found that people tend to think “Oh, he’s nice, and naive”. They confuse trying to be good with being naive and unaware of the intricacies of life. I’m reminded of Chesterton’s Father Brown which the author made to intentionally reflect on this idea: people think Father Brown is naive on “worldy” matters when at the end of the day he knows MORE about it than others. But to come back to myself – this is my blog and I will talk about myself – I encounter this on every turn with my friends. I really love them and I need them in my life like I need water. They respect me – sometimes – when it comes to religion and being good, but they can’t help but be condescending when it comes to “real” issues like sex and love and dating.

Like right now I’m talking about that girl. And the one thing I’ve realised the last while apart from being patient, is that I should actually do effort for her. And I have. I first began our conversation on Tinder, I’ve been the one to always message her, constantly afraid that I’m irritating her. I’m the one who bought her a book, who first asked whether we could meet, asked again a week later, and when we planned for this weekend, I went and bought a nice packet, a bookmark, gift wrapping and chocolate. I drove in a hell of a distance to sleep over at my friend so I could meet her, and then drive from there another hell of a distance to where we meet, and then double that distance all the way home. I really tried. But my friend, on hearing how my first meeting with her went, told me I shouldn’t be afraid and that I should really try otherwise I will never know. But that’s just damn it! That’s what’s been motivating me! But no, I’m the idiot here.


Wat ‘n Dag

Net een dag nou! Net een damn dag! Ek onthou laas week het ek gedink: “Jinne, ‘n week en ‘n half! Hoe gaan ek dit maak?”. Ek het baie gebid vir geduld.

Gister het ek gedink ek moet net by jou seker maak of als nog reg is vir Saterdag. Ek het afgekom op so ‘n trending Facebook post wat mense spot wat nie uitsien na ‘n date nie. Op dit het baie mense gepraat van hoe dit beter is om net die ou te laat wag. En dit het my net bekommerd gemaak: die ergste wat kan gebeur is nie dat dinge Saterdag sleg loop nie, maar as jy nie eers opdaag nie! Ek het geweet jy sal darem nie dit doen nie, maar dit het my laat wonder oor of jy dalk second thoughts het. Dat jy spyt is. So toe dink ek ek moet net confirm die volgende dag (vanoggend).

So ek gaan slaap sommer vroeg want ek kon nie langer wag nie. En toe, vir een of ander rede, word ek vroeg wakker! En ek kon nie verder slaap nie! Dit gebeur bitter min. Ek het probeer slaap, probeer videos kyk, enige iets sodat dit by 7 uur kan kom sodat ek jou net kon vra.

En gelukkig het jy vinnig geantwoord met ‘n voicenote. Vir ‘n oomblik het ek gedink dis ‘n slegte teken dat jy ‘n voice note stuur, maar jyt darem entoesiasties geklink. Dis goed.


Soos ek hierdie tik begin ek besef hoe weird dit is om hier te skryf as of ek dit vir jou skryf. Ek doen dit gewoonlik met almal, of dit ‘n vriend is of wieookal, maar ek wonder nou of dit weird is. Nog iets om aan te dink…

Anyway, dit was ‘n helse lang dag. En die lecture was nie so goed nie. Die verdomde lecturer dink eks ‘n idioot of iets. Seker my gesig en my “ek weet nie wat aangaan nie” tipe expression. Byna al die vrae wat jy gevra het het ek geken, Oom! Moenie my stilte vir dwaasheid verwar nie!

Maar anyway, ek het ‘n realisation gehad. Ek hou aan dink asof Saterdag die moment of destiny is, as of ek onmiddelik gaan weet hoe ek oor jou voel. En ek het net die obvious skielik besef dat dit nie nodig is om dan al te weet nie. Dis nie verkeerd om jou eers ‘n paar keer te sien nie voor ons besluit nie. Maar nog ‘n ding is jou absolute wonderlike beauty. Jys is letterlik TE mooi. Soos in, ek moet bieg, die afgelope tyd fokus ek meer op dit as op jou persoonlikheid. En dis verkeerd. Ek het begin wonder of ek meer in jou belangstel omdat jy mooi is as jou persoonlikheid. Maar na ‘n bietjie gewonder weet ek dit is nie so nie. In die klas het ek gekyk na al die meisies daar en ek het imagine hoe jy is. Ek meen ek weet nog nie, dalk gaan jy Saterdag baie skaam en stil wees, of dalk gaan jy vol lewe lees (eks fine either way). Maar in die klas het ek jou mentally vergelyk en jy staan kop en stert bo hulle.

Ek dink wat my aan jou heg is jou lag. Op jou voice notes is dit jou lag, en jou stem oor die algemeen, wat ek so van hou. Dostoevsky het gesê jy kan uitmaak of iemand goed is net gebaseer op hulle lag. En dis waar. Ek like jou lag! Ek like jou stem.

Ek weet nie. My kop spin heeltyd. Dit gaan goed gaan of dit gaan sleg gaan. Ek weet nie. Ek weet regtig nie.


Dis nice om vir ‘n slag nie werk te he nie. Ek het daai twee lesings basies uitgegooi en nou, skielik, het ek nie iets wat ek vanaand moet doen nie. Die ander werk kom eers more.

Jy hou aan om my heeltyd te laat wonder. Soos die naweek na ek so droog gemaak het om jou te irriteer en jy wat lank gevat het om te antwoord… Hoekom moet ek elke ding so oordink?

Ek het gister saam my beste vriend en sy meisie Antman and the Wasp gaan fliek. Dit was so lekker! Nie net die fliek nie, maar die hele ding. Voor die end credits was ek in my element. Ek het gemaklik en duidelik gepraat met hom. En ek het heeltyd gedink oor hierdie ‘n goeie fliek sou wees om saam jou te kyk. En ek het begin wonder hoe sou dit wees as ons vier sou gaan fliek. Dis weird hoe daar skielik ‘n hele nuwe wêreld vir my oopgaan, ‘n wêreld waar jy daar in is.

En ek het jou nog nie ontmoet nie.

Ek het vandag iets scary besef. Ek word ver te maklik emosioneel aan iemand geheg. En ek weet as dinge tussen ons uitwerk sal ek aan jou geheg wees. Soos in, my geluk en my hartseer sal afhang van ons verhouding. En ek besef vandag dat wanneer ons baklei – want ek weet dis inevitable in enige verhouding – hoe sal ek dit vat? Sal ek kan function? Kan werk? Enige iets kan doen? Enige iets tot ons weer opmaak? Ek weet ek sal my beste doen om die probleem uit te sort. En ek dink vandag ook aan hoe ek jou dalk sal afskrik as ek overly attached is. Ek bedoel dit nie op ‘n clingy manier nie. Glo my, ek wil en gaan normaal wees. Maar ek weet ek sal heeltyd by jou wil wees, die heeltyd jou wil vashou en heeltyd jou hand wil soen.

Ja! Jou hand!

Al daai Russiese boeke het jou hand so liefdevol laat maak. In hierdie stories as ‘n ou verlief is sal hy heeltyd haar hand soen.

Ek wil hê dit moet so wees dat ek net sommer enige tyd jou ‘n drukkie kan gee. Ek hoop dit gaan so wees.

As dit so gaan wees.

As dit gaan wees…

Hoe meer bewus ek word van als van jou wat ek like, hoe meer bewus word ek oor hoe ek nie reg vir jou is nie. Soos ek die heeltyd sê, my voorkoms en my duidelikheid pla my veral hier. Ek hoop nie dit gaan ‘n issue wees nie. Ek hoop nie so nie! En soos ek se my inevitable emosionele attachment. En al die ander dinge ook. Aai! Jy verdien beter. En dis wat my pla: dat jy dalk gaan opsit met my terwyl jy iemand soveel beter kan he. Maar soos ek se, al hierdie oordink ek net. Daar het nog niks gebeur nie. Hoe durf ek selfs aan sulke dink! Hoe durf ek ‘n lewe indink as ek jou nog nie eers gesien het nie? Is dit reg?

En geduld, ne! Ek bid heeltyd vir dit. Want ek weet wanneer ek jou ontmoet is dit net die begin. Ek meen tensy ons onmiddelik verlief word (nie onmoontlik nie), sal hierdie ook tyd vat. Soos drie of vier of tien keer ontmoet voor jy verder wil gaan. Die liefde is geduldig en ek sal wag. Eks net bang dat ek die tyd verkeerd sal lees of dinge sal opmors.

Ek tel die dae af tot Saterdag. Ses dae al verby. Nog net vier! Ek kan aan niks anders dink nie.

Al Daai Emosies

Ek is eintlik doodmoeg op die oomblik. Ek weet nie hoekom nie. Ek staan eers soos 9 uur op, en tog is ek nou al – 9 uur die aand – nogal moeg. My oë sukkel om oop te bly.

Maar meisiekind, het jy ‘n idee watse gedagtes deur my kop die afgelope paar dae gaan? Ek sê jou, ek voel dis die Here wat jou baie mooi op hype.

Sondag en Maandag was ek eintlik half (durf ek dit sê?) oor jou. Soos in die sin van “Ek wil jou sien, maar as dit nie gebeur nie is ek okay met dit”. En ek het actually goed gevoel en begin dink aan ander dinge. Ek het jou geskenk die Maandag gekry en vir jou ‘n message gestuur wat basies sê “Ek het iets wat ek vir jou wil gee, ek kan dit enige tyd vir jou bring, of ek kan dit pos as jy dit so wil kry”. Sien jy wat ek daar gedoen het? In plaas daarvan om weer te vra “Kan ek jou sien?” gee ek jou ‘n escape clause: “…ek kan dit pos”. As jy gesê het ek moet dit pos sou ek weet jy wil my nie eintlik sien nie. Maar dis als besides the point.

Die volgende dag reply jy eers en se dat ons nog moet ontmoet! En sommer die volgende dag! En net so los ek al my negatiewe gedagtes en begin weer opgewonde word en hoop! Ons het besluit op ‘n goeie plek en ‘n tyd. En ek was weer so bly. Ek wou sommer mall toe gaan om papier te koop om jou geskenk in toe te draai en ook sommer ‘n mooi pakkie om dit in te sit.

Maar die middag sê jy weer jy kan nie omdat jou Oupa ‘n hartaanval gekry het. Aai! Ek wil jou so graag sien, maar dis ‘n goeie rede. Die afgelope maand is hel vir jou en ek wil nie druk op jou sit nie. En skielik weer is daar nie planne of enige iets nie. Skielik weer is daar niks.

En vanoggend was ek so down. Nie net oor jou nie. Okay, ek jok, meestal oor jou. Ek wil jou net sien. Dis al. Net vir ‘n minuut. En ek kan nie eers dit doen nie! Net ‘n oomblik om jou in die oë te kyk! Dis al. In die stort het ek gedink aan dit en aan myself – my onduidelikheid en al daai – en ek was net so bleddie down. Ek het sommer in die stort gekniel en gebid. Ek kan nie eers onthou wat ek gesê het nie.

Maar die Here hoor, want die antwoord was net ‘n minuut of twee weg. Funny hoe ek onmiddelik vergeet het dat ek sopas vir hierdie gebid het! Jyt gesê jyt ‘n plan. En jy vertel van so ‘n animal shelter plek waarntoe ons kan gaan volgende naweek. Ek het onmiddelik ja gesê.

Maar jo, nog ‘n week en ‘n half. Soos ek my vriend gesê het, jy leer my geduld. En dis iets wat ek kort.

En weet jy, hoe meer ek aan dit dink hoe meer like ek dit. Dis perfek. Dis nie asof ons mekaar net vir ‘n oomblik sien soos ek bereid was nie. Dis nie ‘n saak van mekaar awkwardly ontmoet by ‘n koffie plek soos ons vandag sou nie. Nee. Hier gaan ons actually iets doen. Iets oulik en mooi. Iets wat nie kort is nie, en hopenlik die ys sal breek.

Nou, granted, dit kan nog skeef loop. As jy net ‘n idee het hoe onwaardig ek voel om te kom! Hoe vreeslik bang ek is om te kom. Bang nie vir my part nie maar vir joune. Bang dat jy teleurgesteld gaan wees in wie ek is en lyk en… praat… Bang dat jy dan obligated gaan voel om tyd saam my te spandeer al wil jy net eintlik so vinnig as moontlik wegkom, maar te goed en modest is om so te sê! Ek verdien jou nie, dammit! Ek wil jou nie teleurstel nie!

Dit laat my ook besef dat dinge vir ‘n rede gebeur. Soos ek sê, een van die ander maniere wat ons sou ontmoet het sou awkward wees. In kontras is hierdie idee die beste sover. Asof die Here wou sê “Nog nie, wag, en ek gee jou iets beter”. My pessimistiese/realistiese kant is bewus daarvan dat dit ook verkeerd kan gaan, maar ek het hoop!



Aan Haar


‘n Draft wat ek geskryf het op 13 Junie 2016 en nooit ge publish het nie. Dis bleddie mooi!

Aan: Die liefde van my lewe

My geliefde liefde,

Elke liewe aand bid ek en dank die Here vir alles, goed of sleg. Ek maak dan my oë toe en dink aan jou. In die donker stilte is daar so baie soet gedagtes wat deur my kop vlieg.

Ek dink aan ‘n duisend moontlike maniere hoe ons kan ontmoet. Miskien loop ek met trane in my oë, trane van eensaamheid en bitterheid, dan voel ek jou hand op my skouer om te weet of ek okay is. Miskien is ek oppad uit, en dan val ek by die trappe af omdat ek jou beeldskone gesig raakgesien het (dan vra jy of ek seergekry het). Miskien reën dit, en dan red ek jou met ‘n sambreel. Of miskien staan ek buite, soos ek so baie keer doen, om na die sterre daarbo te kyk en met my Redder te praat oor goed en kwaad, oorlog en vrede, mense, probleme… net om af te kyk en jou voor my te sien. Of miskien is jy “net” ‘n vriendin in nood, of ek ‘n vriend in nood… albei van ons blind vir wie die ander is tot een of ander wonderlike aand waar ek die glinster in jou oë raak sien en besef dat die Here jou nog heeltyd onder my neus weggesteek het.

Is jy iemand na wie se soet stem ek heeltyd gaan luister? Of is jy ‘n wonderlike geheimsinnige wese wie se stilte ‘n liefdeslied is? Gaan jy vir elke persoon vertel wat reg en verkeerd is, met my by jou sy? Of gaan jy jou diep gedagtes net met hierdie ou siel deel?

Gaan ek altyd daar vir jou kan wees? Gaan ek regtig vir jou kan oppas? Sal ek alles vir jou kan gee? Sal my liefde alleen genoeg wees? Al hierdie dinge wil ek belowe. Ek sal dit vir jou belowe. ‘n Belofte in rebellie teen almal en alles wat ons uitmekaar uit wil hou.

Na ek my oë oopmaak vir die sonskyn wat deur my venster straal, dink ek heeltyd, tot my oë weer toe val, aan hoe onrealisties dit is vir my om te dink dat iemand soos jy by my sal wil wees.

Jy is ‘n engel. Jy moet wees (jy is al klaar). Want net ‘n engel kan lief wees vir my.

Slaap rustig en droom van rose en sterre.

Jy weet van wie ek droom.

Ja Wat

Die hoeveelheid dinge wat die afgelope maand deur my kop en hart gaan… En gewoonlik dieselfde gedagtes en gevoelens oor en oor. Een dag voel ek so en dink ek aan daai, en dan die volgende dag aan iets anders, maar die dag daarna weer aan dieselfde as twee dae tevore. Ek voel op hierdie stadium herhaal ek nou net wat ek heeltyd voel.

Twee gedagtes eet my op nou vanaand weer. Die een is die blasphemous idee, wat lyk my so eenkeer n week oppop, dat jy nie is wat ek soek nie. Gister, nee vandag, het ek nog ge brood oor wie jy is en hoe alles van jou, hart, kop en vlees mooi is. En nou hier kort voor ek gaan slaap het ek daai scary gedagtes waar al jou messages skielik anders geinterpreteer word. Soos in, “Ek het gedink sy het dit bedoel nog die hele tyd, maar dalk bedoel sy dat“. Dat ek heeltyd nog verkeerd is van jou. En ek weet hierdie is ook maar n passing fad en dat ek more heelmoontlik weer smoorverl- o nee ek gaan nie dit sê nie. Nie nou nie.

Die ander gedagte is, alweer, my voorkoms. Ek haat dit. Gewoonlik fokus ek op my onduidelikheid wat ek dink n groter issue is, maar my voorkoms pla my ook soms. Al wat dit vat om my hele kop te laat spin is net een foto van myself. Net een glance in the mirror. En ek weet nie mooi hoekom dit my soveel pla nie. Of dalk doen ek. Dis altyd my spraak wat ek oor bekommerd is wanneer ek mense ontmoet dat ek nooit dink aan dit nie. Maar ek dink dis ook basies jy. Die indruk wat dit en my spraak op jou gaan maak is wat my pla. En dit pla my VREESLIK BAIE.