Posted in State of Mind

–Ember Month

It is the end of the year. To some it signifies the coming of a “new” year, to others it signifies yet another time on earth passed, to me it only brings pain and memories I would rather leave forgotten. What is worse is that I go on Facebook and almost everyday those memories pop up on my notifications. I have been in a nasty mood since the beginning of this month November. I have pretty much thrown myself into work to forget about everything but it hasn’t worked. I threw a birthday party for my sister amidst all the philosophical gouging of the eyeballs my work place gives me. The party didn’t go as I “planned” but she was happy and I learned one lesson that day, “you cannot control everything, try as you may.”

This week started and I could feel something ominous lurking around. You see it’s November. I almost can never be happy in this particular month every year. My friends graduated this week and while I am happy for them, I am tired of the bragging. I went through this last year and it was tough on me. I am tired of seeing “the first class degrees”. I am sick of seeing “the jobs on LinkedIn” that they are picking up as soon as graduation is over. I do not think they are better than me and I know the saying it’s now how swift the race is run but how well…

But I’m human and it really is hurtful seeing their success when I am still trying to find my feet. You see, November was when I received the shocking news that I had to leave my first love. I thought I was over that but I received a text message this week from my love asking me what I wanted to do with my crap that I left behind. I was shocked at first, then I became furious. Here I was thinking about my first love all the time and I was ultimately just getting ditched. You see by leaving my crap behind, I was grasping for straws. I made a decision then to move on with my life, without love or getting attached.

I had to start by ending my second love. It was getting irritating. I hated myself for how I felt with my second love. I hated not being in control of my feelings. I hated how I even feel now that I’ve ended it. I had been making my plans since Wednesday. But seeing him that day made it so much harder on me. I at first was making up excuses to not see him but I decided to go anyway, to also remove his stuff from my place. Well so I thought right.

I know. I am just a wimp. I am simply ending our friendship because I am afraid of what the future holds. Because I am afraid that maybe yet again, I will be snatched away. Because I am afraid that fate who hates me so much you would almost think I stole her man, will play some evil trick on me as she has done in the past.

By Friday midday I had made up my mind to say goodbye. I was in a stink of a mood all that morning. Not because I wanted to be but because I thought my heart was going to be ripped out of my chest. Yeah, I guess I loved that much.

Dear readers, do you know what this wimp did? First of all, she sends an email. Secondly, she gave crappy excuses as the reason for ending things.

By evening, I was beginning to run a temperature. I took permission and left work an hour earlier because I thought I was going to faint. You see I was already growing dizzy. My mind was working as a clock. I was wondering how and when I was going to do it. Fate handed me a card I guess, and I, the wimp took that as an opportunity.

It’s hard. It really is hard. I have slept six hours straight this afternoon to get my mind off things and I still feel like a dumpster truck. I guess it’s my punishment. Maybe I should have adhered to the lesson I learned with my sister’s party.

I did mean some of the excuses I made up. But it is not enough for me to abandon this friendship. They are things that could be worked around and they are also things that have been settled. I guess I am just tormenting myself now by continuing to blather on.

Posted in State of Mind

The Woman and the Kid

It’s been a long time since I visited this space; sixteen days actually. A lot of things have happened since then, some weird and unexplainable, others surprising. I’ve had a writer’s bloc for a long time now. Funny how that sounds seeing as I am not a writer. What brought me to this space today is what I would call a work of fate and/or coincidence.

At a little over 5pm, I got called by my neighbour. I initially planned to ignore her because I really didn’t have the strength to leave my room and go down the stairs. I grabbed my keys anyway and went to talk to her. As I came out, over the fence, I saw a ragged looking lady with something on her back that I later discovered was a baby and a malnourished frightened child carrying a worn out bag by her side. I noticed her mouth moving and to my greatest surprise, I realised she was talking to me. I went closer and still couldn’t make out her words. I went further to the fence almost touching it to figure out her words.

“Please, I am looking for work, can you help me?”

“What kind of work? What can you do?”

“I can do anything, wash clothes, clean the house…”

I looked her over properly and realised that the thing on her back was human and it was a baby. Her features amazed me. She looked like a woman who was constantly abused. She was shrivelled and dried up but she couldn’t be more than thirty years of age. Her voice wave length was tiny and wavered. I don’t know if it is a result of a destroyed vocal chord or terror. I hoped I was wrong about either. I opened the gate and ushered her in. Now here’s the problem, I didn’t have any work for her. I cook, clean and wash myself but I could not for the life of me send her away. She was not really my problem, her kid who carried the bag was.

What first struck me about the child was that he was frightened of adults. At least that is what I deduced. He stood a good eight feet away, shifting uncomfortably anytime we got closer. Now kids are kids. When they come to a new place, they hold on tighter to their parents. So I wondered why he was staying away. I wanted to test my theory further and moved forward with his mother and he moved back until there was no more room between him and the fence. He kept sipping the water in his hand even though it wasn’t hot.

It almost felt as if his mum was about to sell him into slavery and he was at that distance ready to bolt.

I called another neighbour over to see if she needed someone to do a few odd jobs for her. To my greatest happiness, she did and to my greatest surprise, she knew the lady. We talked then. And from what I could make out from her inaudible voice, she was given money to set up a business by a Christian charity and my neighbour happened to be the volunteer who went with her to look for viable options. Well, to cut the long story short, her husband didn’t let her. He took the money from her and doesn’t give her money for feeding. I was sad. I had heard and read of stories like hers but I had never been up close and personal with one. I looked at her again and noticed how dry her chest was and how the baby sling was barely holding up. I looked over at the malnourished child again who eyed me warily. They were the victims of constant abuse of which I do not know the nature. Nigeria doesn’t have a shelter for the abused. My sadness became rage.

She was sick. And needed money for treatment. She has been going around looking for a job so that she can foot her hospital bill. We were about to send her away because it’s already evening and my neighbor needed the job done tomorrow but she insisted on doing it today. I knew then that she did not have any money for feeding or for transport. That is if she even took transport here. I am almost positive that they had been trekking for a long time.

She said in every suffering she gives thanks to God that she is alive. I admired her faith and tenacity. But I wondered why she will want to live on in her current circumstance. Isn’t death a more welcome alternative?

She said any money she gets from her hustling she wouldn’t give her husband again. I knew then that it was a lie. It always is.

I gave her money to go and see the pharmacist so that some kind of reprieve can be offered after she blurted out her symptoms. I wish I was a doctor, I would have given her a free consultation there and then. Going to the hospital will be too expensive for her. I also knew that the money I just gave her would not be used at the pharmacy. Her health is very important to her yes, but at the moment, she needs food. Well, she is coming tomorrow, I will take her to the pharmacist myself if I have to.

I plan to cook something for them tomorrow. I do not like to see hungry people. There was a time I did not have food to eat for long periods at a time. It wasn’t nice.

It is a full moon tonight. Maybe something positive will happen for that woman and the kid soon.

Posted in Pinches of Salt

Untitled (continued)

Bring out your dictionaries ladies and gentlemen. The time has come for them to be used.

Inspiration has come again, so I am trying to answer the next segment of the untitled series.

Part B

Misogyny, Chauvinism, Feminism and Misandry

So, today at work, I spoke up about sexual harassment I have been receiving at work as well as females getting looked down on by their male counterparts.

Quite coincidentally I saw a post by another blogger. It was about an african female musician who had a massive wardrobe malfunction while performing and she had no undergarment on. The blogger attributed it to the lengths at which “women” will go for fame. He also added, women please respect yourself so that you can be respected.

I’m thinking to myself, why must it be women though? If you look at almost all the streets in Nigeria, there is always a man with his penis out peeing on the road. If you look at almost all the streets in Nigeria, there is always a shirtless man with his boxers just on the ridge of his buttocks. Why doesn’t these count as a disrespectful situation for a man? Or are they trying to say that me as a lady will not get sexually attracted by a man’s firm bum or seeing a beautiful penis and looking away? Hell no. The good Lord gave me eyes to see and as such I will take my time to appreciate any male specimen he has put on this earth without feeling shy.

Personally, except in really distressful situations like long journeys and no convenience, I find it distasteful when I see men peeing on the road, in broad daylight, in a busy city with toilets around. But no one will say anything about it because it is “normal”. It can never be counted as being disrespectful of a man. He can never lose his respect because he has done it.

Think about it this way, if two african adults, male and female decide to go fully nude for the cover of a magazine for example, who is the one they will say is without home training? Who is the one they will say the person has brought disgrace on their children? Who is the one they will say “I am sorry for whoever marries you”?

And there’s this one in movies that I do not get. They will show full nude frontal of a lady and just show the bum of a man. Are you seriously kidding me! I want to see the man in all his glory. So women deserve to be shown naked and men don’t?

That brings me to the end of one of my points; Feminism. A feminist as defined by a woman I look up to, Chimamanda Adichie is “a person who believes in the social, economic and political equality of the sexes”.

I have just talked about one of the aspects of social. But believe me, they are a lot. Almost innumerable. We all know the major economic (lower wages for women), and the major political (lower official positions for women).

So I came to work and was told I was to serve staff meal. I don’t bother too much about what is beneath my status or what not. I usually just do whatever I am told to do if my spirit accepts it. But believe me when I say it is the most degrading job I have ever done. First of, the staff population are largely uncultured and uncouth. Secondly, you have to clean up after them; wash the dishes, clean the trash, clear the food warmers. So I’m there, strutting away in my shoes and beautiful clothing, carrying a large and heavy pan of food which is supposedly supposed to be a man’s job. But as the guys appointed with me were dragging their feet about it and I had a lot of work to do back at the office, I carried all the heavy pans. No biggie right.

Food service started, I did it, the other guy had still done nothing. I was beginning to fume but I kept quiet waiting for his end game. Food service ended. The dishes were not cleared from the tables majorly from the uncultured staff and the cleared ones were sitting in the sink unwashed. Mr. A still hadn’t lifted a finger. He was just sitting and smiling. I cleared the service table and picked up my things and started walking out. I got called back by the other lady.

Lady: “Alia, where are you going?”

Me: “I am going back to my work, I am done here.”

Lady: “We haven’t finished, we have to wash these plates”

Me: “For what? That is Mr A’s duty”

Lady: “Na man go wash the plates? It is a woman’s job to wash the plates.”

I turned to look and Mr. A was smiling sheepishly like he just won. I just walked out on them. By this time, I had enough rage in me to cause a premature volcanic eruption.

You best believe that Mr. A washed up all the dishes.

It is exactly this attitude of men that makes feminists inadvertently become misandrists.

Remember I said I spoke up about sexual harassment at work today.

After speaking, one of the men said, “well if you don’t want anyone to sexually harass you, wear rags to work, smell and come to work.” Another one said, “welcome to Nigeria”, “toasting is allowed”. Another one said, “every man that is not gay must look at you and appreciate you no matter how uncomfortable it makes you feel”. And I am thinking to myself, that kind of “toasting” in the work place. And this is how hating men begins. I’m thinking to myself, this are the people in leadership who should have some sort of sympathy for my case. Because now if not that I have better sense, they have put it in my head that all men are the same.

I have had my fair share of toasters all through my short life. Even when I was still a kid with an excuse of a chest. But let me explain what Nigerian toasting is.

1. In Nigeria, toasting is a slang used in place of wooing a lady.

2. In Nigerian toasting, you’re allowed to hold her hands or any part of her body without permission and accost her at whatever time possible to make sure she agrees.

3. Nigerian toasting involves using lines from wise King Solomon in the bible. (Read Songs of Solomon from any bible version)

4. In Nigerian toasting, you are allowed to be sexually suggestive as you like.

5. At the end of the toasting exercise, if the lady refuses, some men accept it and let it go. Others, go round the neighbourhood and spoil your name due to their crushed ego.

Now I do not support misandry at all. I just believe there should be a balance to everything. Do not go around being an extremist for the sake of feminism, religion and the likes of these.

Now here’s a thread an honest writer friend of mine wrote.

We grew up in a deeply patriarchal society. We didn’t ask for it, we just saw that patriarchy was the normal way of life.

The men did it, the women enabled it. It was normal.

It was thrown at our faces everywhere.

In primary school, we saw how a boy was given head boy not because he was the most intelligent but because he had a penis.

In our churches, we saw how a male was made the head of choir not because he had the best leadership skills or the best voice, but because he was male.

In our compounds, we saw how men talked down on their wives and abused them consistently.

We noticed how during meetings, a young son is called to represent the family in the absence of the Dad instead of the mother because well, he was male.

In our villages, we saw the depravity women passed through because they were women.

We saw women sacrificed a lot, not because they were supposed to but solely because they were females and hence were expected to let go of personal dreams for others.

And unconsciously we believed that was normal.

It was normal as eating rice and stew every Sunday.

As we grew up, we started to learn and relearn things. We started thinking and realizing that if the only reason as males we were seen better than a woman was because of our genitalia, then maybe we weren’t better than them at all.

The only problem was, these things wouldn’t go away without conscious efforts.

Even though we knew, we still saw ourselves doing stuffs that screamed out inequality.

So we started putting conscious effort into our daily lives into treating people equally despite their gender.

This is a work in progress.

And we will be delusional and unrealistic to think everybody would buy into this.

Some dogs don’t learn new tricks at old age.

Some people are far deep into a patriarchal way of life that they would rather die than see life any differently.

Some are misogynist even without knowing they are.

Go to the parks, go to the slums, go to the villages and see that there is still a long way to go.

But we will get there, at least a majority of people would come to understand that everybody should be treated equally irrespective of gender.

In our society we grew up to see patriarchy as a way of life.

And good thing, we are all relearning.

On the other hand, it’s a very sad sight to see some women take the feminism to unprecedented heights void of any logical reasoning.

It’s like some extremists have hijacked feminism and have taken every thing out of context.

Feminism have caused a high level of paranoia that what comes to your mind first is feminism instead of common sense.

It would be an irony if ten years from now, a lot of men have dropped their misogynistic tendencies only for you to wake up and realise you have become that one thing that you hated – a misandrist.

Wouldn’t it be an irony to come to that point and realise due to your unchecked struggles you have crossed that thin line and ended up hating men.

And maybe then, the wave wouldn’t be feminism again. It would now be menism.

Feminism shouldn’t replace common sense.

Personally whenever I’m out with a female friend, I hold the door for them. It was something I did effortlessly.

At a time I stopped because I felt since we should all be treated equally, then why should I open a door for a lady?

She should open her damn door herself.

Then I realised later that equality shouldn’t replace chivalry. Chivalry shouldn’t be dead because we want to treat everyone equally.

Those little things that put a smile on someone’s face shouldn’t go away.

It’s the same thing a lot of people are struggling with.

There are soemthings that shows your lack of common sense instead of feminism.

Like Aunty Bumni said, how would you say you are married and won’t discuss a business plan with your spouse before venturing into it.

Isn’t that lack of common sense?

Are you people married or are you both roommates?

Or were both of you specially called by God just to populate the earth.

If tomorrow you get married and a situation happens that one spouse needs to stay home for a short while because of the kids and as a lady it has to be you, not because you are a female but because, maybe you earn lesser or your work happens to be much more flexible than your husband’s or the situation at hand makes you the best fit at that point without gender issues coming to play.

Would you rather allow your kids suffer because you are trying to prove a feminist point?

Or would you allow common sense Prevail?

In your homes, would you rather allow a little issue escalate into a mountain of warfare because you are trying to prove a point.

It takes Wisdom to know how to choose your fight.

If you have an understanding with your spouse, you can allow somethings slide for the greater good.

A lot of people are losing common sense because of all this.

Every issue isn’t a call to bring out our arsenals and fight.

Wisdom is profitable to direct.

Don’t become what you are fighting against.

You’ll despise yourself at the end.”

Laa Pulga Prince

Enough said.

Posted in Memoirs

Family Matters and others

It’s 6:35am, 13/10/2017. I paid a visit to my cousins since I am in transit to the city of my birth. And my cousins are already dressed and ready to go to school. I am extremely baffled. Why in God’s name are they up at this awful hour and dressed too. Do schools resume this early?

I coil in shock as the memories come flooding back. I remember leaving my house at 6:15am latest to be able to get to school in time. That means…. Oh no!! I actually woke up at 5am everyday. No chance. It is not possible.

If you wake me by 5am now…

Just prepare a few words you’ll like to be said at your funeral.

Anyway back to the point of this post. I haven’t been to the place of my birth in five months. One would think I would miss it. But all I feel is dread. Unfortunately, it is a compulsory family function taking me back this time, and I have to attend. I’m beginning to feel the first wave of sickness and it is not homesickness.

I do not have the strength for this travel. I do not have the strength to deal with all the family drama.

I got to the airport, found out my flight was delayed for seven hours. I feel like I could see the finger of the Lord warning me not to go home. I damn well nearly collapsed. By this time, the illness was in full effect. Some 800mg of Ibuprofen later, I was able to survive till I got home. I went to bed at 2am.

I got up at 7am for the family function. I needed more rest. But I dared not complain. It was going to be a busy day. Sometimes, sacrifices are necessary for family.

5pm. I received a disturbing news. A member of my family was more or less missing. The details around it were sketchy and I couldn’t let father know. Father had already broken down crying at the news. I have never seen father cry. All through the deaths that had occurred over the years; his friends and family. Father had never cried. It was up to me to figure out what to do and calm father down. I couldn’t risk his having another myocardial infarction.

Some GPS tracking later and some calls later, said family member was contacted. I will probably give details of her stupid acts that led to the panic in another post.

8pm. Family function was done and dusted. I couldn’t believe I was still alive. I couldn’t feel my legs or any part of my body for that matter. I hadn’t had anything to eat all day, plus my house was full to its maximum capacity; all seven rooms of it. Each room had a minimum of three. The room I stayed in, we were seven…

I managed to muster strength to put a few things in order and have a little offal soup, and off I went to bed. I didn’t sleep very long before it was morning.

Today is the 15th. Today is the day I go back to my safe haven. Away from the drama. I should be overexcited, strengthened even. But I still feel sick. I am beginning to wonder if I have a sort of terminal illness.

My flight was for midday. Two strange things happened today.

Firstly, on my way to the airport, my car that was perfectly fine and was used for the family function broke down. It was already 30 minutes to flight departure. I was already beginning to feel a bad omen. I tried ringing customer service to see how I can possibly be helped; I was kept on hold for a long time until I cut the call. I eventually found a taxi, practically threw my things in and raced to the airport. Yeah, I was the last one in.

Secondly, the aircraft I entered was battling with the winds for a part of the journey. While others shrieked and prayed, I looked through my window admiring the way the clouds hit the wing flaps and made it invisible. I thought to myself that perhaps the time has come for me to die. I was already composing the messages I would have sent to those I love even as my sister who sat beside me gripped my hand tightly. What is weird is that at that exact moment, I wasn’t scared to die. I was thinking, I feel terrible anyway; my head is banging, I have got a fever, my body feels like I’ve been doing squats and push-ups thirty hours non-stop. So yeah, I wouldn’t mind dying if it took away the pains I feel now.

Well, the turbulence stopped sadly and a very rough landing almost immediately, we arrived. Then the guilty conscience came. How would father survive? Surely I had seen how he was yesterday, this would kill him.

Well, I didn’t die. I just entertained the thought of death for a short time. I’m getting tired of living. It is too much effort.

Scratch that… I am not even alive anymore, I am just breathing.

Posted in Musings


Happy new day!

Happy Sunday!!

Happy new week!!!

Happy new month!!!

That is, to those who always look for something to celebrate even when there’s nothing to celebrate. The Lord is your strength.

Happy Independence Day to Nigeria. As my friend eloquently put it, “on this day, Nigeria unfollowed Britain”.

Did we really?

I have not written in a while. I have had nothing to write about. Even now, I have nothing to write about. I would have, if my plans had fallen into place. So sit back and enjoy my blabbering.

So exactly a month ago, I was about to start putting in motion, plans to execute the biggest surprise I have ever done. I was ecstatic. Certain that my surprise package will go well. You see, I took three weeks off work for this surprise. I was going to see “the one”. I had missed him for the past nine months. He had treated me badly, granted. But I was still willing to try and see if there was hope for us.

I was wrong. My love didn’t want me to come. He didn’t even want me around him. I had already booked my flight. I unfortunately had to cancel. He said hurtful things to me. None of which were logical enough to make sense. Being the fool in love that I am, I still forgave him. I will still try to go see him again. Maybe my persistence will change his mind.

On another note. I surprised mother and myself today, if I might add. Almost always any conversation with mother ends in an argument of some sorts.

Usually rebellion on my side to be fair.

So I had this hairstyle on that mother didn’t approve of when I met her last week. I noticed it in her stance, the hardness of her eyes and the coldness in her reception when we met. I was hurt. I haven’t seen mother in three months. A warm welcome would have been nice, even if it’s a pretentious one.

I have been waiting for mother to comment on it for the past couple of days. But she has been too scared to say anything. Always going through my siblings who will then tell me. Well finally, mother stopped being coy and commented on it. I am sure she expected some anger, loose words, fire, brimstone etc from me. I wonder how much she must have prepared to receive them.

She was quite taken aback when I simply just commented “okay, I wouldn’t make it again”. I felt her dead silence over the phone, so much so that I had to check if the conversation was still on.

In retrospect, I don’t know how or why I did it. Either I’m having an early stage adulthood crisis or I’m actually changing, for good I hope. I am tired of fighting with mother.

Posted in Little Steps

Renovation 101

The day is September 28th, 2017. The time is 8:03am. I feel rather strange today. Well, lately I’ve been feeling strange.

Today is the day I have started to let go of some garbage that are rather old and I have continued to hold on to. Maybe I am starting to grow old or I am having a crisis. I don’t know. I started with destroying my wedding planner. I created that in 2014. It was created at a time in my life when I was incredibly lonely, so starting it gave me joy. It filled my lonely days. I could finally dream of something although very unrealistic. Oh, you should have seen it. Very grandiose in planning. Obviously I wasn’t planning to get the money off my potential husband, I am all for 50/50 splitting of wedding costs. I think it was grandiose majorly because I was trying to fit things into my parents and my immediate society’s way and at the same time have a perfect wedding. Now, I don’t just care about society. I believe a compromise will have to be made by my parents. A wedding is just a day, not even a day, a couple of hours at months. What really matters is the marriage which is forever.

Everyday I had new ideas, I put them down there. I had notes on it. I had a beautiful book dedicated to it. Here’s a plot twist, getting married is the least of things on my agenda. How time changes.

In my process of deleting old garbage, I found something I wrote down a couple of months ago that I got from the internet. It seemed rather useless at the time. It seemed like all those crap that motivational speakers say to enrich themselves. It’s weird I have it right. I’m surprised myself that I am in possession of it. I have always felt that everyone is in control of motivating yourself. You are your own motivation and the earlier you realise it, the better.

Well back to the motivational article I found. I finally had a read through of it today, and it isn’t half bad. Too bad I had already begun the process before I read it. Well the title is “Steps to Discovering Yourself”. Grab a pillow and be prepared to sleep…

Steps to Discovering Yourself

Culled from the internet

How to Find Yourself

Wake your consciousness: write down your life’s timeline and distinguish your thoughts from others’. Start with a clean slate and organize your world.

Give yourself some alone time;seek out a passion, and find a mentor.

Change your perspective and let go of negative thoughts.

Question yourself, then act on your newfound knowledge.

Part One of Four:
Waking Your Conscious

Create your own life timeline.
Write down all of your major goals that you feel you have achieved and want to achieve. In turn, write down the events in your life that have already happened and that have shaped or affected you. When life brings problems or misfortunes it shapes our belief system and makes us think differently, but it also makes us us. These things you list are organically you, not a simple reflection of society.

• This isn’t an exercise in wallowing. It’s about clarification and identification of issues. These issues might be keeping you from reaching your present potential and letting your true self blossom.

• Spend a little time clarifying the past in your timeline. A timeline is an incredibly objective method for marking down past occurrences in your life that you consider to be major. You can look at them as formation blocks and as changing experiences along your timeline without imbuing them with too much emotion (as would occur within a diary account). As if writing a résumé, keep it simple, real, and condensed to the major effects or lessons learned from each past incident.

• When analyzing negative past experiences, focus on what you learned from them. Everyone has these blips in their timeline, but exaggerating or ignoring them won’t help you. Instead, recognize that these experiences shaped you.

Distinguish your thoughts from the thoughts of others.
For most people (it’s more common than you may think) life is pretty easy to go through while on autopilot; we practically get handed a road map for how reality “works.” Go to school, get a job, get married, think this, that, and the other, and boom — hope you had a good time. And that’s all well and good — it gets the job done certainly — but it doesn’t allow room for you. So sit down with yourself. At the end of the timeline, come up with a few beliefs of yours that aren’t based on logic, but are based on what you’ve been told. We all have them. Now, what do you actually think?

• Society has a very covert way of handing us the “misfits”, condemning the “losers”, idolizing the “beautiful”, alienating the “strange.” But here’s a heads up: These describing words have no basis in reality. How do you feel about the world around you? Think about what you believe to be good and bad — not what anyone else has told you.

• Feel free to think more concretely. Do you actually agree with your parents’ political or religious affiliations? Is having a career really the most important thing to you? Do think, black glasses really make you feel “cooler?” If the answer is no, great! There’s absolutely zero problems with not molding yourself to pre-existing norms. Now all you have to do is unlearn and then relearn. Only this time, relearn based on your gut.

Start relying on yourself.
Confidence and reliance are at the heart of finding yourself. If you don’t have a solid sense of self-worth, you’ll listen to what others have to say all the time and to be swayed by their insistence on what is appropriate. Learn to believe in yourself and trust your own feelings. Then, you’ll come up with a structure to base your new sense of self on. Remember, be patient with yourself and confident in your abilities. Everything will come with time.

• If you have been victimized in the past, confront these issues. They’re not going to go away on their own. They might be coloring your approach to daily life, causing you to live up to other people’s expectations instead of your own.

• Start trusting your own judgment and decision-making processes, mistakes and all. We all make mistakes, but through mistakes we find ourselves growing, learning, and reaching our real selves.

• Start taking responsibility for budgeting, household matters, and planning about the future. People who lack a sense of self tend to disregard the “details” of life with a carefree attitude, believing that things will all sort themselves out. But things don’t always sort themselves out. Taking responsibility pulls you back from the precipice and lets you be self-reliant and self-determined, no longer carried along by the waves of fate.

Prepare to begin again with a clean slate.
Develop your own moral conduct and practice sticking to it. Start by overcoming bad habits.

• Stop smoking, over-eating, and abusive drinking. These are examples of lapses or habits that will prevent you from functioning at your peak. They also let you “off the hook” by sidestepping the analysis of why you use these crutches instead of finding better ways to brighten your life.

• This step may take some major rehabilitation for some individuals but putting it into the too-hard basket won’t make it go away. Remember, you can’t drive your life forward if you are always gazing through your rear-view mirror!

Organize your world.
You may find that having all your other affairs in order will help expedite the process to grabbing a firm hold on your identity. So clean your room. Do your homework. Resolve that fight with that friend. Getting everything else out of the way will clear up the path to “me” time.

• We all have excuses for why we’re not growing in the direction we want to be growing — it could be money, school, a job, a relationship, you name it, someone’s used it. If you’re a busy bee, take strides to clear your schedule so you can sit down and tackle this thing head on. If it’s always priority #2, it’ll never get done.

Part Two of Four:
Conquering Your World


Immerse yourself in solitude. Give yourself some time and space to get away from the expectations, the conversations, the noise, the media, and the pressure. Take some time each day to go for a long walk and think. Plant yourself on a park bench and look. Take a long, thoughtful road trip. Whatever you do, move away from anything that distracts you from contemplating your life and where you want it to go. In solitude, you should feel independent and self-sufficient, not lonely, needy or afraid.

• Every person needs time alone, whether they’re introverted or extroverted, single or in a relationship, young or old. Solitude is time for rejuvenation and self-talk, for utter peace and for realizing that purposeful “loneliness” is not a bad place to be but rather, a liberating part of your overall existence.

If you are a creative person, you may find that alone-time will help stoke your creativity. While it’s nice to collaborate with other people sometimes, it’s hard to be truly creative when you’re always surrounded by other people. Step back and tap into your creativity.

Seek out a passion.
When you believe in something or see beauty in something, you should do it no matter what anyone else thinks. If you have found something that is worthy of your best efforts, sacrifice, and tears, then you have found the most important pursuit of your life. Often, that pursuit can lead you to something ultimately fulfilling.

• The key here is to realize that it doesn’t matter what it is. It could be preventing child hunger or it could be painting. There is no scale when it comes to passion. You either feel it or you don’t; none is better than any other. When you find something that zaps you out of bed in the morning, cling onto it. You’ll only bloom from there.

Find a mentor.
Though ultimately soul-searching can only be done by you and it’s only you that determines what you need, having a mentor will be an incredible resource when you hit those unavoidable bumps in the road. Seek out someone you trust who has a definite sense of self. How did they do it?

• Let them know the process you’re starting to undertake. Stress that you know it’s your journey, but would love to use their strength as a guide. Take a look at them as objectively as you can. What seems to ground them, making them who they are? How did they find that? How do they stay true to themselves?

• A support system is key to any self-improvement tactic. Not a lot of people will understand what you’re going through and will brush off your broaching the topic as a flash-in-the-pan moodiness. Use this mentor as a sounding board, too, for what you come up against. The outlet will surely come in handy.

Sort out your career path.
If you’re meandering all over the place looking for the right “fit”, chances are that you’re not happy inside. You could be using the job-changing as an excuse for not fully realizing your true potential. Find yourself by really taking an interest in what you love to do. If money weren’t an issue, what would you spend your days doing? What way can you monetize this activity/skill?

• Spend some time free-associating. Think about what you like and don’t like; think beyond those things to other ideas that simply pop into your mind while you’re associating. Keep a record of these things. Then, come back to the career question and look at the free associations. What type of career seems to gel most with the things that excited, moved, and really energized you from the free-association exercise? As Alain de Botton says, this exercise is about looking for “beeps of joy” amid the cacophony of must-do’s, shoulds, and expectations.[1]

• Bear in mind, however, that work may not be where your “calling” is. If that’s the case, you’ll need to work out a work-life balance that lets you pursue your “true self” more outside of the workplace, even if this means more hours and less income. It is all possible, especially if it’s in the pursuit of finding and sustaining your true sense of self.

Part Three of Four:
Changing Your Perspective

Let go of the need to be loved by all.
Accept that some people will think poorly of you no matter what you do. It’s important to forget about what everyone else thinks because you cannot please everyone. And while you might not want to disappoint the people close to you, they should want you to be happy. As long as you continue to exist just to fulfill other people’s ideas of who you should be, you’ll never know who you really are. This thought is aptly summed up by Raymond Hull: “He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away.”

• Realize that some people will become jealous, afraid, or overwhelmed when a person changes their usual habits and grows more mature and self-loving (others will love it). It’s a threat to the relationship you’ve always had, and it forces them to take a cold, hard look at themselves, which they may not want to do. Give these people space and compassion; they may come around in time. If they don’t, leave them be. You don’t need them to be you.
Abandon the negative.
Although it sounds abstract, it’s not difficult. Make a conscious effort to minimize judging — others, objects, and yourself. This is for two reasons: 1) Positivity is nourishing and can usher in a sense of happiness which being “lost” masks, and 2) Opening your mind to new experiences and new people (that you previously wrote off) will show you a whole new world that may be better than the one you knew before — one where you can find your corner of the sky, your castle on a cloud, your niche in this crazy world.

• Try to do something every day that you would’ve brushed off as “weird,” “illogical,” or just plain “uncomfortable”. Getting out of your zone will not only teach you something, but it will force you to get to know you — what you’re capable of, what you like, what you definitely don’t like, and what you were previously missing.

Question yourself.
Ask yourself difficult and far-reaching questions, and record your answers. Beyond your time spent in solitude, it’s easy for these purposeful thoughts to slip to the back of your mind and be forgotten. If you have them written down, then every time you reflect, you can review your notes and take it a step further, instead of answering the same questions all over again. Keep them in a notebook that’s easy to access and update; it will be a source of sustenance for you, by which you can continue to measure your growth through life. Here are some to get you started:

• “If I had all the resources in the world — if I didn’t need to make money — what would I be doing with my life and why?” Perhaps you’d be painting, or writing, or farming, or exploring the Amazon rain forest. Don’t hold back.

• “What do I want to look back on in my life and say that I never regretted?” Would you regret never having traveled abroad? Would you regret never having asked that person out, even if it meant risking rejection? Would you regret not spending enough time with your family when you could? Would you regret keeping your unique view of society to yourself by not sharing with friends? Did I conform/stick out beyond the level I’d have like to? This question can be really difficult.

• “If I had to choose three words to describe the kind of person I’d love to be, what would those words be?” Adventurous? Accepting towards few? Open? Honest? Hilarious? Optimistic? Unreliable? Don’t be afraid to choose words that are considered negative because that proves you’re a real person, and not a lopsided combination of parts other people want to be known for.

• Sometimes the traits that you don’t like become useful in emergency situations — like being bossy. Sometimes they are valuable to the job you’re meant to perform — like being nitpicky.

• If you do have a truly negative trait, acknowledging it openly can give you the motivation to work on redirecting that energy to something positive. Try channelling that bad habit and into a hobby. Don’t wash your clothes much? Try camping — maybe you’ll like it. Even something like pole dancing could be your golden ticket! Know you’re lazy with certain tasks? Maybe you can lead yourself to find another task that hardly ever bores you.

• “Who am I?” This question is not static. It should be one you continue to ask yourself throughout your life. A healthy person continues to reinvent themselves throughout their life. By asking this question regularly, it updates your understanding of who you are and how you change. Instead of answering who you think you ought to be, keep it focused on who you actually are, because in all likelihood that’s a very good answer, warts and all.

Part Four of Four:
Settling In for Good

Act upon — and use — your newly discovered knowledge.
Pick up those watercolors. Write a short story. Plan a trip to Mombasa. Have dinner with a family member. Start cracking jokes. Open up. Tell the truth. Whatever it is that you’ve decided you want to be or do, start being and doing it now.

• You may shake your head and come up with excuses such as “no time,” “no money,” “family responsibilities,” etc. Instead of using these as excuses, start planning around the hurdles in your life. You can free up time, find money, and get a break from duties if you make time how to plan and find the courage to ask for these things.

• Sometimes, the real you is too afraid to face the practicalities because it’d mean facing up to what you’ve limited yourself by. Start planning what you really want to do and investigating what needs to be done to get you to that point instead of flinging excuses at them, stopping the goals and dreams dead in their tracks.
Be ready for dead ends.
Finding yourself is a journey, not a destination. A lot of it is trial and error. That’s the price you pay in return for the satisfaction you receive: More often than not, you hit a bump in the road, and sometimes you fall flat on your face. Be prepared to understand and accept that this is a part of the process, and commit to getting right back up and starting over.

• It’s not going to be easy — it never has been for anybody — but if you learn to see that as a chance to prove how much you want to find yourself, then you’ll find fulfillment and security in your pursuit. When you know yourself, most people will respect you more and treat you kindly. Best of all, your light will shine on both you and others, making them (and you) feel even more certain about your sense of self.

Serve others.
Mahatma Gandhi once said that “the best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.” Being introspective without reaching out to others can cause you to navel-gaze and shut yourself off from others. Service to other people and to the community is the ultimate way to find purpose and a sense of your place in the world.

• When you see how hard life can be for those in greater need than you, it’s often a wake-up call that puts your own worries, concerns, and issues into perspective. It helps you to see what you do have, and the opportunities you’ve been able to seize through life. That can fuel a great sense of self because suddenly everything can fall into place for you and you realize what matters most. Try it. You’ll like it.

Posted in Bits and Pieces

The Alchemist

I came across this poem a while ago. I didn’t realise then what it meant. I didn’t realise that I would experience what the writer of the poem meant. I couldn’t relate properly to what the poet was feeling. Now I realise it’s meaning. Now I know the poet’s experience. Now, I can relate to the poet’s feelings. And now, it has become my favourite poem.

“I am a sculptor, a molder of form.

In every moment I shape an idol.

But then, in front of you, I melt them down

I can rouse a hundred forms

and fill them with spirit,

but when I look into your face,

I want to throw them in the fire.

My souls spills into yours and is blended.

Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance,

I cherish it.

Every drop of blood I spill

informs the earth,

I merge with my Beloved

when I participate in love.

In this house of mud and water,

my heart has fallen to ruins.

Enter this house, my Love, or let me leave.”


 The Divani Shamsi Tabriz, XXXIV

~ By Rumi

Hello you,

Yes you.

I’m talking to you.

You like to open everyone’s book, and when you do suceed in opening it, you don’t take responsibility for what happens after opening that book.

You just think everyone likes their books opened. You think everyone’s books should be opened. You never take into consideration how their closed books was their last line of defence. So if you break that down, don’t just fling them away like trash and move on to the next closed book.

Posted in Bits and Pieces

A Letter to You

Use of strong and explicit language, please proceed at your own risk.

Dear phenomenal douche bag person,

I think I’ve had it up to here (insert my head with a hand pointed at my neck) with your bullshit.

I wrote this just for you. You know how my brain goes into hibernation if I were to wait for a conversation, and how it just locks itself when a conversation comes up and I do not have the password.

I knew something was up and you couldn’t just talk about it. Okay if you can’t talk about it, it’s okay to say something is up but I can’t talk about it. Remember I even asked you some days ago, what is up, that you’ve become weird, withdrawn. And you gave a crass answer.

You know I’m awake most nights. It’s weird but I know when you’re actually sleeping deeply and when you never leave the stage 1 in the sleep cycle.

You might not have been turning like I usually do when I’m restless but I knew something was disturbing you.

And I freaking tried to ask. That’s what is pissing me off more. Not that I didn’t notice, I asked you. Not once, not twice. Remember when I said you’re like me last year.

There were times I wanted to reach out at night when your back was turned but I stopped myself always worried that you’ll get angry. That’s the reason I always slept at the edge of my pillow closer to you.

I’m just wondering when we became reduced to this. Hiding what we’re suffering. There were so many things I wanted to tell you but I kept mute because you had become so absorbed in self-pity. I knew you were “suffering” in quote but you didn’t even talk about it. You didn’t even give a chance to talk about it. Coming in to sleep late, obviously sleeping in the mornings when I leave and when I return, avoiding me like a plague. You might not have known that you were avoiding me, but you fucking did. On the other hand maybe you were purposely avoiding me.

It really hurt. It did.

Okay. I think I got the parts that my brain would have locked up on me out. To be continued…

Kind Regards,

Alia, the weirdo.

Dear word press readers, I apologise for the strong language used. Sometimes, it is needful to use strong language.

Posted in Pinches of Salt

The End

Ecclesiastes 9:5-6 KJV

[5] For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward; for the memory of them is forgotten.

[6] Also their love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the sun.

I came in to work this morning, it felt different. It is a Monday. Usually I find happy faces, all those I hadn’t seen over the weekend. At least the greetings were cheerful. And also, it is a Monday. Monday mornings are usually full of jostling and bubbling. I wondered why.

Well I proceeded to my office and five minutes later, I got told that a colleague had died the prior night. To say, I was shocked is an understatement. He had an accident.

To put things in perspective, let me break this down in detail.

He came to work on Saturday, told his colleagues goodbye at the close of work and proceeded home.

On his way home, he got called by Mr X’s wife that Mr X was gravely ill and had refused to go to the hospital. He probably called his wife and his kids. He probably said to the little kids “daddy won’t be home early today, daddy will get you something on his return”; his wife probably already making dinner and him promising to return early so as to eat the food while it’s still hot. He is just going to take sick Mr. X to the hospital. That’s the kind of man he was or at least he appeared to be. Selfless. He probably came back home tired after the day’s job and still wanted to take his sick friend to the hospital. You see Mr X was both a colleague and a friend.

He successfully took Mr X to the hospital and he got on a bike, because it is quicker, so that he can make it home in time for dinner. Halfway through the journey… BOOM!!! His bike had collided with a car. No helmets to protect him, no metal shield by his side; as his head hit the road with a thud. He made it to the hospital, but he didn’t survive it.

I am just thinking about the call his young wife received. He was supposed to eat with the family that night.

I am thinking about the call his immediate colleagues received. It cannot be. They only just said goodbye to him. He was supposed to show up at work the next day.

I am thinking about the call the organisation received. He had just attended a surprise party thrown for the General Manager before going home. Everyone was happy; eating and drinking.

I am just thinking about Mr X’s wife. Do you think she will forgive herself for being the one that made him leave his family at that particular time?

I am just thinking of Mr X, do you think he’ll forgive his wife and himself for indirectly causing his friend’s death? Do you think he’ll be able to face his colleagues again?

That could have easily been me. I use a bike to and from work almost everyday. The bike drivers are very rough and erratic in their driving. As a matter of fact, I entered a bike driven by such a driver this morning to work.

Death always has a way of putting things in perspective. I would like to believe that he died happy. I would like to believe that in his final moments, he wasn’t thinking about how he should have apologised to his wife for their morning fights. I would like to believe he wasn’t thinking of the harsh way he treated a junior colleague.

His chapter is over. His curtain has been drawn. His candle is burnt out.

Life is too short.

Live everyday like it is your last.

Be kind to others.

Do not have regrets.

Never carry over fights; either to sleep at night or to work.


Posted in State of Mind

How To Incite Murder – Episode 1

Please give me a few minutes while I cuss out my neighbours….

So we share a generator; it is the responsibility of all to care for that generator. We get petrol for it, oil for it etc. These buffoons had collectively decided that I should be the designated petrol buyer. I wouldn’t mind as much if they made other efforts concerning this particular generator of ours.

Sometime this week I decided to ignore them. I didn’t buy petrol, didn’t lift a finger for three days. Oh you can be sure they got the drift and went to get petrol.

Fast forward till today. I switch on the generator by 7:30pm and see that the petrol is not gonna last up to three hours. I switch it on anyway, I mean they are closer to it, I am sure they can put it off when the time comes. I mean, I trust them to.

Approximately at a couple of minutes past 10pm I presume, the generator began to make a sound showing that petrol is exhausted. I was already asleep, so obviously I didn’t know what was going on.

These big-headed, self-rigteous douche bags did not move a muscle at the noise. Luckily, somewhere in my dream, I heard the sound, so I jumped out of my dream and ran all the way downstairs like a woman, crazed to turn it off.

I do not know how long it had been going on for before I turned it off, because it was already at it’s dying stage to turn off automatically by the time I reached it.

And then, I heard it, the lot of them cackling like abandoned peacocks in the Serengeti.

So these fools were all awake?

So these fools heard this and did absolutely nothing?

So these fools, five of them, made me almost fall down the stairs?

Even I, was asleep and heard the generator noise in my sleep. I was having a good dream… yeah, that kind of dream.

And this daft children were all laughing and chatting, less than five feet away from the generator.

When I finally switched it off and did the changeover routines, they all came to the window to ask me a stupid question with a tiny patronising voice that would not even arouse an oyster.

“What’s the problem?”

Like the lot of them had never had a generator in their homes before and didn’t know how it sounded when petrol finished.

Oh help me Jesus!

Strange Lingua

*generator – a device that has been saving Nigerian’s lives since the 20th century. Found in almost every space that has a roof and people inside. Including homes, shops, salons, roadside umbrella stands etc.

Posted in Musings

The Mind; Her Mind; My Mind


Sometimes I imagine what life would have been like if I was born without privileges. If I was born without a silver spoon.

From last year, I began to experience the thing called “brokeness”. For most of the last six years, I always had enough, and when I didn’t have, all I had to do was place a call home. I wasn’t working and I was living in a fairly expensive city with high cost of living. My friends were both jealous and awed at the same time. I didn’t have any budget. I just spent money as I saw it. I didn’t have savings, because there was no need. Money never came to me unless it finished. I couldn’t give account of anything I spent my money on. Now I wasn’t extravagant, but I wasn’t frugal either.

So when “brokeness” hit me like a plague last year, I could not deal. To some, it was normal. To me it was hell. I found out that I could not adjust to certain things. I lost weight, my health suffered, amongst other things. This year, it is even far worse, except that I have come to enjoy it. I want it. I want to see life and the world at large through a different lens. I love clothes. I have so many of them. Or had. I hate to repeat clothes at work or anywhere. Even for an outing. But here I am, I haven’t gotten new clothes in ages and I am still alive. You see personally I cannot afford new clothes. I am broke. But I’m still alive aren’t I?

I am trying to be independent. I am trying to be normal. I am already the Nigerian lady in my age grade who has been having cheese, sausages and all things nice since I was a baby. I don’t want to be the Nigerian lady who is still having expensive things at the expense of others. You see, father dabbled into something he should not have dabbled into. So now salaries are unpaid, children are getting nearly kicked out of school and their parents are shareholders in the borrowers committee, the organisation is suffering, and the CEO still has no clue of the situation.

Now father has come again with talks of another degree. Still at the expense of others. No, thanks. I’d rather strive like evey other Nigerian my age. I am tired of worrying about father, his reputation and the organisation. I am tired of the looks I get when I say “oh I haven’t done this before.” Or “oh I haven’t tried that before”. Because apparently it’s normal for other people. I am tired of being that person. It is no fun.

So yes, I would have preferred to have had fifty kobo as spending allowance than eating smarties and goody-goody for fifty naira whenever I wanted. Yes I would have suffered, yes I might not have had food whenever and wherever I wanted, yes I would have gone to averagw schools. But at least I would have been happy. I would have had a semblance of a future goal. I would have been free from societal obligation and trying to maintain the perfect standard. I would have no midnight restlessness. And again, I would have been happy.


Can I have your number?

I want to be your friend.

I want to know you more.

The good Lord knows I hate this line. I absolutely hate this line. What’s up with Nigerian guys and I want to be your friend. Why don’t you just come straight out and say what you want straight up?

If I had a pound for every time I’ve been pitched that line since I have been back in Nigeria, my account balance wouldn’t be in a sorry state.

I would rather a guy walks up to me and says I want to have sex with you (obviously not at work because I could kill you for sexual harassment and not with a lewd sneer either) or I want to take you out on a date than shady lines like “I want us to know more of each other”, “can we be friends?” “Let’s hang out”.

It’s funny how they always change their tone from being friends to something else after I must have cajoled and threatened, the truth comes out.

Okay, maybe I am going to try out my theory and tell someone that I want them; body, mind and brain. And I’ll see how that works out and I’ll also see if it’s really difficult to just say those words.

Maybe they are afraid of rejection; everyone is. And so they probably think starting from friends will make me less likely to reject them. Please and please, I want to inform you that it doesn’t work that way. From the very beginning I almost know how my relationship with someone is going to turn out. I always know if it’s a conversation that will die a merciful death or continue. My instincts have been extra sharpened.


I first fell in love at 21, by 22 I had gotten my heart broken. I knew there was a reason I had never loved before. I don’t think I can handle all the emotions. I don’t think I can handle all the jealousy, hate, anger, sleepless nights, panic attacks and the list goes on.

So how did I fall in love?

It’s a really funny story actually. Growing up, I had this tough hide or maybe pretended to have one. I had difficulty trusting or telling anyone something even a tiny bit personal. So I always had this fantasy that the one person who listens, the one person who I am able to trust, the one person I can tell everything without restriction is “The One”.

So with this young man, I started off. At first, I was my normal pretentious, superficial self. But with time the walls kept caving in, crumbling until like the wall of Jericho, it went down flat. And then I began to fall in love. It was no longer a case of my childhood fantasy about “the one”. It was proper love. Racing pulses, girlish excitement kind of love. I felt the electricity in our touch. The Mills and Boons novels kind. For some reason, I thought he felt it too. The longing and the yearning I felt. In his arms, I found calm, sleep and peace. That’s love right. I cannot remember the exact moment I fell in love. Okay, I lied. I can. But all I know is I have never felt this way with anyone. No, not this long.

How I got my heart broken…

Well, I discovered to my greatest shock that he didn’t feel it too. I was just another piece of puzzle solved. Another riddle that had been explained. Another girl he had made “whole”. I thought I was special. The thought of being special finally to someone made me all gooey. Was I angry? I think I was more astonished at the time. So I tried to play it down in my characteristic way by saying naughty things. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days, days to weeks and I realised it really was true. Between those days when reality dawned on me; there will be a few hours of reconnecting and then I’ll feel content or linger to a small tiny shred of hope. But it always soon passed. It became as if I was grasping for straws. There was no electricity, there never was. All the words he uttered that made me fall in love in the first place were just empty. Now I think about it, I think he just liked new shiny things. The excitement of opening each layer and finding something new. All my layers have been opened, I have nothing new to give anymore. Now, between us, there is nothing.

You know this thing they say is true. When you get your heart broken, you find it difficult to love again. I am almost sure that I would never be vulnerable, I would never be open, I would never trust someone this much ever again. It’s always been me all this while. True that I get sad during valentines or all those special holidays, but it passes. And I get happy later on. But a broken heart… I am not sure I am ever going to be happy again. I am not sure things will ever be the same again both in my life and between us.

P.S As I am writing this post, I am not actually curled up under covers licking icecream like someone who just got heartbroken. I am actually having Borscht soup. Boy is it nice! And do you know why? Because I’m transitioning back to the phase before I met my love. I think that did my heart and physical body fine.

I am also overhearing my neighbours discussing about me in their self-righteous way and being generally stupid and selfish and I’m trying not to commit murder. So help me God.

Posted in Bits and Pieces

My Apologies

I am sorry. I watch the light get dimmer from your eyes everyday. I watch the curved smile I’ve come to love fade slowly from your lips. It pains me that I cannot do anything about it. I can only say I am sorry.

I know you keep saying it was your decision. But I really am sorry. Unfortunately I am filled with regret and can’t let it go. I know I am now walking in tiptoes around you. I am unsure of what to say or what to do. You don’t laugh so loud and heartily anymore.

You remind me of me last year. You’ve become closed off. You answer “I am fine” to everything and really it’s either you’re lying to me or I don’t know you very well and you really are a broody individual.

You are not a disappointment. I really just want you to know that. It’s my fault. I didn’t think of the pains the future will bring before I tried to take you out from your comfort zone. If I was to turn back time I wouldn’t let you do it again. I am sorry you’re not feeding well. I am sorry your temper is growing shorter every day. I am sorry you long for home. It’s all my fault that you are not with them right now. I know these are just words to you. But I really mean them. I wish I could be braver to say all this in person without stumbling or falling over. Maybe I will. No, I won’t. I’m afraid if I say it you will feel that I’m treating you like an egg. So this will just be what it is. Another forgotten note on my diary.

Now I know the reason for this moodiness runs deeper than this recent turn of events. But at least if the present was good, you wouldn’t have felt the gloomy future this badly

I miss you.

I miss talking to you.

I miss your deep sighs and the way your brows furrow when you are worried about something.

I miss the stupid jokes we laughed at.

I miss the perverse thoughts we almost always had.

I miss holding your hands. Yeah as ironic as it sounds. But holding your hands and feeling the warmth and harshness of your palm reminded me that you were still alive and that there was hope.

Maybe you were right. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to change fate. Maybe being closer geographically is really a bad thing. Or maybe some of my bad luck had rubbed off on you. I am sorry.

Dear Readers,

I was finally brave. I showed this to its owner. I think life is too short to keep things hidden.