Creating Frankenstein

Queering The Cloak, abuse, intimate partner violence, HOLAAfrica

By Siyanda Qamba

I’ve been sober for two days out of seven this week and that feels like an accomplishment. Trying to sleep has been a bitch though. Demons of my own imagining have been haunting me. Persecuting me.Trying me.

I’ve been trying so hard to numb the pain I’ve been feeling, pain from being a failure, pain from being pained and overall just…


Sex as antidepressant doesn’t work anymore. I’ve left too women heartbroken and hurt. Essentially I recreating these women in my own image.

Sold dreams about ‘forevers’ and ‘love’ and all that other bullshit. I had women open their most sacred parts to me, I roamed around and ultimately my darkness grew tired of having to hide from their light. So I left, like a thief in the night.

Now I’m here, getting texts from these women, texts with promises that ‘they can act better’, , that ‘they don’t understand’, that ‘they are better’ Messages proclaiming that they are ‘too good to be with me’, staggering drunk, “you wanna fuck”?.

Who’s fucken bed am I in? I need a drink not coffee. Mumbling ‘sure I’ll call you’ even though I don’t know your name.

They deserve better.

I need to do better. Fuck nah. I’ve been the ‘I love you, let me hold you down, let me hold the house down’ type of bitch and what did that get me? An abusive partner, who took everything from me and left me for a newer model.

Newer? At 23 I was left for a newer model.

Because my love came with too many responsibilities and too much accountability.

Now here I am bitter over someone who left with me emotional scars leaving other women with scars. Beautiful.

A monster creating monsters

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