You’ll Pick ?

This is me attempting to write.

So if you see this, then you know the attempt worked out.

I am scared though.

Writing to feel better usually equates to exposing your vulnerability. Most times, you end up wearing your heart on your sleeves by the end of the piece.

You would obviously feel better by the end of it but then…

Do we really want to let people in on what’s happening on the inside???

Big question.

Regardless of whether this gets out or not, o am going to write because I promised myself that I would write a piece before the day ends.

And….

Since I am now big on keeping promises to myself…

THIS PIECE MUST BE WRITTEN.

Non-negotiable.

So tonight has been bizzare.

You know those days when you’re feeling everything so much that you sorta numb up?

Those nights when you’re not sad or happy or worried or relaxed? Like you’re all over the place and you can’t make sense of it?

Sometimes you cry but you don’t know exactly why? And your heart skips this minute but wants to drown in the next?

Those empty evenings when you remember all that has passed, the good you enjoyed and the bad that you survived?

Those nights that once happy moments make you shed a tear or two and previous sad experiences now form the core of your belief that you’re one badass ?

Those nights when you lie in bed, not entirely awake but also not sleeping and you get a transaction summary of all your mess-ups and it’s like you are watching your days on a big screen?

Those nights when you crave to talk…to hold deep conversations about shallow non-essential things, those nights that you crave love… and friendships…and longggg breath-taking laughter? But you look around you and the room is quiet, the air is almost still, your phone also got the memo as it hasn’t beeped in hours. Even group chats are silent.

You know those kinds of nights, don’t you?

For this small fair random twenty something year old young aspiring entrepreneur/writer in a town where a strange melodious tongue…

This is one of those nights.

I am not sure what sucked the joy out of the hours of my evening and if you ask me to list… it surely would be a long list of rubbish. For instance;

After working up this patient for her Caesarean section and seeing all the support and love her husband gave her, I am now sad I am not married.

I mean, me too want to be the center of someone’s existence. I want to be someone’s happiness and personal project. Even when I am all swollen and edematous, gasping for breath and my belle is bulging, I want someone to be pampering me like a baby… to be asking the doctors, “please what are you giving her, what do you need? How can I help?”

I want to be played with too when I am having needle prick phobia… ; “ I go sha laugh you, but no be today”

I want to be scared and anxious and panicky, and somebody’s son will just say “ baby I am here” and I will just cool down…

Me sef wants to be loved right. By someone who has got it together enough to “gat me”.

This is the same me that was telling a potential husband some days ago that I don’t want to be anyone’s property and that I have decided the best course of action is not to be territorial about people as I have made peace with the fact that people can change and move on and that is entirely okay.

If this was a movie, I would have lauuugghed . Like really really laughed.

But this is not a movie. Unfortunately.

This is my life.

So now I am sad. That I can’t eat my cake and have it.

Or can I?

Do people eat their cake and have it?

Do you sometimes want one thing and it’s opposite at the same time?

Or have I finally gone mad?

Let’s just sleep.

Maybe answers will come in morning. And perhaps joy will also remember it’s morning and make it’s way to us.

But chill…

Now that you have read up to this point, what do you think we should title this piece?

Yes, I am also confused about that too.

Yours in confusion

Moxie🙃