The boys love began to produce eggs in my heart. I had a disease and there was no cure it; loving a boy who was not even at the bottom of the list of boys I had imagined myself dating. His picture was still bright in my mind. He was bald, his skin was not too light and it was flawless.

I had made up my mind. I knew I wanted him I had no doubts anymore. I didn’t care that he was poor anymore. I didn’t care what my friends will say anymore. “Where am I going to find him?” I asked myself but I couldn’t answer myself. I felt a sharp feeling of regret.

I had made a mistake by not stopping. I should have stopped to listen to him. I wanted to talk to him now, I wanted to hear him out but I was too late. I felt a gush of pain in my soul. I felt so hollow and vacant.

I targeted bald, light skinned boys, hoping that maybe one of them would make me feel the way he did but no one did. At night I would cry in my bed. I couldn’t stop this pain. I wanted to forget.

One day when we were about to enter the taxi rank, I stood and looked around for a while. Even though I had lost hope, but I still couldn’t stop myself from doing this every time we entered the taxi rank.

My friend asked me, “Nondu, why do you always look around when we get here?” I stared at her.

One thought said I should tell them the truth; let it out of my chest and maybe the pain will go away. But another thought said don’t tell them; it will only make things worse.

Tell us what you think: Should Nondu tell her friends the truth? Why is she ashamed?