Hello! And thank you for giving this title a read. There has not been really much going on in the content factory. Which explains the fewer blogs. If I let you in small in my creation process, you would see it too. It looks like playing around with words in my notebook. Having about ten drafts that really have nothing going on for them. Some drafts would have the words, ‘God!’… or ‘Think about something worth reading, Gosh!’

This really strikes me how much I talk about my drafts. Some of them are long paragraphs that would only make sense to me.

Without further ado, I would like to dive into today’s title.

When I was in class eight I went for a tour in Mombasa. It was a big deal. We toured the city. I found it really exciting since it was only my second time touring the coastal region. Well, you might be wondering a second time. Yes and also the last time I went to the coast. This is to say I am manifesting a trip to the coast Lamu nini nini. The first time I went to the coast I was performing a leading role in a play called ”The lost Samantha ”. I know this may sound funny since I do not strike as a performing artist. I do not strike myself as one too. But I digress.

We toured the streets of Lamu, Malindi, Kilifi, and Mombasa. It was nice and all but the highlight for me was the trip to the beach. I had this friend group. And we were sort of inseparable. Shocking for me to admit.

I was having the time of my life when a young Indian boy approached me. He had this silky, long, and extremely dark hair. I had never seen such black hair in my life. I got too carried away thinking about how black his hair was to realize that he was actually speaking to me. He was saying something about offering me his floater and asked to swim with me on the beach. He was being really polite so I, agreed. I had now realized that this five-minute interaction had garnered the attention of all my classmates. I really didn’t think much of it. So I hang out with this Indian boy instead of the friend group. Time passed and it was time to leave the beach. I said goodbye to him and walked towards the bus. Daisy ran towards me with a big smile on her face.

'' Dama! ''
'' Yes '', I anwered.
'' Did you remember to take his number?''
'' Daisy, he doesn't even speak proper Engli.......''

She ran off even before I finished talking. She came back a moment later to the bus without saying a thing. She took out her notebook and wrote some numbers down. It was his number. I really didn’t think much of it then. A day later we were on our way back. Not much excitement going on. We would break for one week before coming back for our final term.

When we came back from the break Daisy was telling us stories about the Indian boy. They talked. I came to find out that his name was Ishaan and he was in high school. She told us that they were in love and that he was now her boyfriend. She spent the rest of the term promising naìve girls his number at end of the term. In exchange, they would be good to her and give her their sausages and eggs. Oh! And she never stopped reminding me that Ishaan really had no intentions of being my boyfriend. And it was her she really wanted. My small ego got bruised. I wondered how they talked because Ishaan had a very strong Indian accent. I wondered how bold it was for her to ask for his number. I wondered if she had used my name to get his number. And whether she was pretending to be me on the phone. Well, she kept us guessing for sure!

But the truth was there was never really Ishaan. There was really no relationship. She got the number but went home and discovered it wasn’t going through. Maybe she heard the number wrong. Maybe she never even got the number. This was really upsetting. But she had his full name. She went to Facebook and found him. But that was just it. She tried to send him a couple of messages but were never read. She quickly realized that it was a dead end. But no, she couldn’t afford to look bad. She came up with all these stories to make her look better. To fill up gaps for her ego. To protect her ego. Her mind developed into this world where Ishaan was his boyfriend. She couldn’t tell if the stories were for us or for her.

Inferiority complex. When you look at it in terms of human nature, this is how people tend to increase their power in the world. Through compensating for weakness. She felt that it should have been her and went to the extreme to prove that.

For a person who is drawn to mental health, psychological disorders, and complexes, I tend to find the mind more interesting in people. Make no mistake though. I will notice your freshly cut fingernails and your super tight jeans. But I digress. Inferiority complex is a feeling of inadequacy and insecurity that determines the goal of one’s existence.

Research says that cognitive therapy should solve most psychological problems that affect people.

For example, thinking of how many times I have felt inferior. I have to recall that in primary school I used to say ” my parents” instead of ” my parent” just to fit in. I have to recall all my insecurities. And how projecting has affected other people. I have to ask myself ” Do I have a clear conscience?”