I might be…

I might be a horrible person
I might be the person you never want to see again
I might be the person that turned your world gray
Too dull to even accommodate black
I might be the person that took away your heavenly bodies
Leaving you with nothing to stare at
Neither during the day nor night
Absolutely nothing
I might have been your timely bomb
The one you never knew was strapped around you every time we hugged
Each second drawing you near to your demise
Exploding beside you
Shattering you into more than a million tiny pieces
And letting you fall like rain of blood
But still turning gray when you gather to form pools
I might have been the knife
You know the one they found stabbed in your back
I might have been the gun
The one whose bullet shot you in your temple
Leaving you lifeless
But my image glued in your iris
I might have been
I might be
I still may be
Because you choose to see me that way
To paint me that way
To describe me that way
To tell your tales
To them that listen to you and never me
But tell me
If I was that horrible
Heartless monster
Wouldn’t I have destroyed myself in the process?
If I exploded, why am I still here?
I am broken too
I am lifeless as well
My world is pitch black
I’m struggling
But I have no voice
I lost it trying to tell my tales
And I lose to you
I might be…



Our lives are so crowded
Entangled by the strings we’ve created amongst us
Each of us pulling the other in our direction
Or maybe pushing
It’s hard to tell when there’s hardly any space between me and the next
And you
Yet a lot of it exists
We’ve worked so hard my love
To get this close
So near each other we are
Near might not be the word
Not in this context
Maybe into each other
No more strings between us
Because they’ve bound us together
Into one
Sometimes happy to have found each other
Escaping the extraction
Or maybe doing it together
Sometimes suffocating
Being stuck
Yearning to be alone
To just be an inch further
Away from each other
For just a second
To breathe
To rest
Revvy our engines
Then rebound back
But that can’t
Just can’t work
In a world where people posses penknives
I can almost promise that we won’t find our way back
That we’ll be entangled
Thick in between this labyrinth
Connecting and disconnecting
But never really having a connection
The one we can term as us


I don’t know what your definition of happiness is. I don’t know his nor hers. I’m not even sure what it means to me either. Growing up my mom defined happiness as a feeling of satisfaction. Whenever you were satisfied either with food or your present life or your grades or your parents or the way you appeared or your friends or your spouse then you were happy. All my life until now I have always benchmarked happiness to my mother’s teachings on the same. Any time I’ve had a feeling of satisfaction deep within my soul then I’ve always considered myself happy.

Over the years however, this definition has been corrupted. Watching too many soap operas, reality shows, living around a society that defines happiness differently, I must confess has been very confusing. These days we say happiness comes from having more and more and more. Not necessarily yourself possessing all that, could be your partner; “sponsor”. If my satisfaction before was to have just Kshs.20million as my net worth, these days I gotta go above and beyond to be happy or rather so people see me as happy. Happiness has been defined by how lavish one lives, how much they spend, how glamorous their lifestyle is, how many Ferraris they own, how many condominiums they can rent out, how many vacations they have in a year and where and how expensive. Rich people are branded happy while the poor are considered sufferers. Ask someone; “heri ulie kwenye Range rover ama ucheke kwenye bodaboda? Ukose usingizi runda au ulale vema kijijini?” (Would you rather cry in a range rover or smile on a bike? Lack sleep at Runda or sleep well in the village?) They’d not choose the latter, at least not most of them. Because we’ve been living on the deception that links riches to happiness until it seems to be gospel truth. People would rather financial stability before what makes them truly happy, they’d rather an arduous job that they barely like as long as it pays more than go after their passion even if it pays way less, they’d rather battle with traffic and expenses in the city and make thousands than live on dimes where everything else is at reach in the village.

In a bid to fit in, most of us have found ourselves living completely misconstrued lives. By other people’s comprehension and not our own. Feeling out of place if we decided to live by what our parents and grandparents taught us, religiously. Not allowing ourselves to be different because it is accompanied by a fear that we won’t be happy being ourselves and not being over the top.

But would anyone be blamed for thinking this way? For believing this? Society has bent us. By now now we’re way out of shape. Hardly recognizable in our distorted forms and beliefs. A comfortable life that would bring about satisfaction is achieved by dint of money. A lot of it. Spoil yourself. Take selfies and post them on social media. Let those who don’t have as much squirm and feel belittled.

Whatever it is, always go by your own definition. Happiness is a basic need.

I know not.

When I have no need for you
Into dust you turn
Creeping into my every space
In my ears
My ears itch
My eyes sour and red
Make me scratch them hard bursting My capillaries
You bug me
Let me have no sleep
Let me not know what I can be and do
Why won’t you just let me be!


When I have need for you
Into an eagle you turn
Soar into great heights where you can’t be found
Places where we birds dare
That’s where you venture
Places my eyes can’t see
Horizons and horizons away
Not that I’m myopic
Then I’m deprived of sleep
Trying to attain your standards
To prove myself to you
To please you
Like those you surround yourself with
And then I know not what I can be and do
Why won’t I just let me be!

Are you my sine qua non?
Am I yours?
Are we?


In the thoughts of a person lies their power.
In the Broca’s area of the cerebrum lies the world’s focus on change.
Thoughts are inarguably the world’s driving force to change and the most powerful little things. Whatever we think and confess with our mouths and present in a clever way to society may just be our ticket to a shortlisting in Forbes magazine, guiness book of world records etc etc. They say if you don’t rule your thoughts they’ll rule you. They defeat the world’s most powerful kingdoms because even so they dictate them. By the thoughts of the king, queen, servants the mornachy runs, by the thoughts of the president and civil servants a country moves forward, by the thoughts of leaders and members a team achieves its goals.

My blog’s title is Laurahthinks. I want to think. I want to think big and small, enormous and tiny, clever and stupid. In the same way I want to share my thoughts with you and I wish you do the same via commenting. I want you to see inside my head, inside of my brain, inside of my mind. It’s little, big I haven’t reached. Sometimes they’re silly thoughts that I feel may be worth sharing. They may not impact everyone’s life and I don’t wish that they do right now because I ain’t there yet. That one person who sees probably a motivation or a hidden joke or just words as they are and feels like they change something? I’m humbled and honoured. But one day, I wish that one of my thoughts changes the world. I wish it becomes historic. A moment marked by just two three words. Like Martin Luther, I have a dream. Like Barack Obama, yes I can. Like Mahatma Gandhi, I want to be the change that I wish to see in the world. Like mother Teresa, kind words that are short and easy to speak but their echoes truly endless. Like Jesus Christ, to love my God with all my heart, soul and mind and my neighbour as I love myself. But these wishes I know aren’t horses and I am no beggar. Let me call them dreams, let me work tirelessly but smartly to make them a reality. Its a path less trodden, i comprehend. Because along the way the energy fades away, the spirit always willing but the flesh weak. Criticism. Negativity. Lack of appreciation. Nonetheless, a will exists, a way will appear.

She thought I was

The barriers we’ve built between us

Two steep cliffs that make us so different yet the same

Unable to pull neither of us to either side

Because inasmuch as we’re the same, we’re different

When she first told me about you

My fancy was tickled

My imagination ran wild

And the number of wonders in my head were inexplicable

I was wowed


By how much power you have in you

Your passion is painful and awful yet admirable

You don’t believe in abilities but choices

They were and are your definition

Your courage is your identity

And the most beautiful thing about you is that you never cease to be yourself

You’re a fingerprint

A motivation that ain’t shaken nor afraid to take the world by its oversized lapels and lead it in your direction

Dear what is it that you haven’t done?

The world is inspired by the product of your life’s struggles because they are a legacy!

When she said you live your life as though you’re always in a theatre she didn’t lie

Whether I interpreted as a hospital or a stage

It adds up!

Curtains drawn and action

The audience applause

Curtains drawn and gloves pulled up

Wounds are stitched and fractures aligned

And now take a look at me

Not yet a failure but still not a star

When she looks at me,

That little girl,

She sobs

A great disappointment

You might be fiction and I the reality

But for sure she likes you more in me


A lady

Sky blue shalwar

Black Kameez

Cool black sneakers

Emerald necklace with matching earrings

Her blonde hair is a little messy with some small twigs and leaves hanging in it

It is held back but loosely

Her forehead is a bit wrinkled and she’s got some more around her eyes

She’s in a weird posture

Can’t quite tell if she’s walking or just standing

Right leg in front of the left

As if she’s moving but not really

She’s about five metres away, but even after a second glance I can’t really tell

She’s got an iPad in her hand

And I can see headphones

Probably listen to music

Or just shutting herself from the world

I move closer

Her nose is sort of pink and so are her eyes

A little swollen at the tip and lower eyelid respectively

As if she had been crying or something

Just now I realize her clothes are not as fancy as I thought

One of her sneakers, the left one

A little torn exposing the largest toe

Her pedicure is chipped at that part

Blue with some white decorations

I can’t figure out what kind from where I’m standing

She isn’t really looking at her iPad

She’s staring aside

Her eyes a little watery

And then I see a huge scratch on her ear

Must’ve been bleeding but now covered by a scab

The Sun is blazing hot

She holds her right palm facing away from her face blocking it from shining in her eyes

There are red bruises on her arm

Her index finger is lacerated

A finger and nail avulsion

She looks left then right

I look as well trying to decipher what she might be looking for or at

But when I return my eyes to her

She’s long gone.