It is not your fault.

This is going to be a troubling read.

So, stop here

Happy birthday
Daddy and I are going outside with our friends, so please stay inside with your cousins okay.
And that was the beginning of the first incident. I was supposed to be playing with a toy car, yet I was being played with. Each guy laughed and snickered while taking turns playing with my private part. Their little brother stood at the window and watched. Then later threatened to report me, Me for what?
They are married now with children.
I still meet them, and talk to their parents, else….

Let us go to the arts lab.
Lie down here.
Do not be shy we are all girls.
Come closer to me.
That is how the next group of people felt it safe to play with my privates, taking turns to shove their fingers up me.
Mummy they did this to me in school and I felt funny.
What is wrong with you?
Are you a lesbian?
Go and bath, you talk too much

Let him sleep over.
Sure.
Goodnight, please stop playing with my nipples, I dozed off.
Please stop, I am serious.
Come on, I would be gentle.
I am serious you are hurting me.
Please stop.
Okay I have stopped
Good night
Please stop it hurts.
It took weeks to address the issue again.
Did I want it? Was it my fault?
Fine, you can sleep with me anytime you want again, I do not care anymore.

I am going back to school.
There is no need its late
Sleep here
Okay
What are you doing?
Stop it
Please
Oh, come on so any other guy is fine just not me.
The next day…
I am sorry about what I did
I hate how you live your life
But I would probably do it again
Why?
Because my cousins did it to me too.
I hate people who like people of the same sex
I am sorry that that happened to you, but I did not like your life.

Random Words.

I don’t know if I’m crazy but it sure feels like it most days.

I start something up and can never finish.

I swear I hear voices in my head only they all sound like me.

I can never seem to be satisfied with what I have.

I feel starved for affection. That’s not the hunger within.

I keep meaning to end it all. I keep stopping midway.

I don’t understand anything. It seems like.

I’m drowning in confusion and don’t have the words to explain what’s happening.

I started this with a clear goal in mind. To say something important.

I want to be focused but the words. The words have a way of running along.

They all look pretty. They can cover all I want to say and more.

The only problem. The only problem is the order they should take.

I start to lose focus again. I start to lose my cool.

Even now the words are blurry from tears left unshed.

I bury feelings. I bury my pain. I show only the joy. The parts that remain.

The parts that remain, remain hidden albeit just under the surface.

I can’t do this no more. I’m sorry for the promises I’m about to break.

I tried very hard. I promise. I did.

But it just feels too much. Too heavy. Too fake.

And now I’m taking the mask off to deal with my own crazies.

Funny how all this started with a post at 2am.

Random Addiction

Trigger Warning: Self-harm

I told myself that it was the last time three months ago. And 5 months before that and a year before that.

It’s sad and funny in a twisted way. I always said I was scared of getting addicted to something.  The push to satisfy what you crave. That mindless need to just soothe yourself. I always thought that was below me. Surely there’s nothing on earth I would get addicted to. But I lied. Once again. I did.
Now here I am. Wondering how I got addicted to this.

Was it because I was so sure, so careful, that there was nothing that would lead to me aching and craving a fix.

The first time I ever did this was after school, primary school. I dont even remember what led me to it. Was I sad? I guess I was. I mean, I don’t know, I dont remember. All I knew was I had already gotten beaten for crying for no reason, but if I was hurt and was crying, there’s no way I’d get beaten again.

I found two surgical blades in my grandmother’s bag and took them out. I was crying, that part I remember.  I sat on the floor and drew my knees closer to me. I made my first cut. On my knee. I still see the scar sometimes.  Watching the skin part a bit and slowly; in my eyes fill with red was weirdly fascinating. I made two more cuts. No one noticed. I felt less heavy than before I found the blades.
And that’s how it started.

Then on and off in school. Sometimes the only way it felt to let go off the heaviness was to make a cut. Two, three maybe five cuts. Cry it out for a bit. Then rub salt on it and move on. It was always preceded by a heavy feeling. Sometimes brought on by words. I was called fat and decided to cut out as much fat out of my body as I could. Specifically on my thighs.

When I couldn’t find a blade, I substituted with breaking my sharpener to make one.
Until one day there was no sharpener.  When there wasn’t a sharpener, I didn’t mind rubbing my wrist against a wall till little beads of blood form. And when that didn’t work, there were always knives and eventually fire.

And here I am. Today again. Feeling heavy from words. Swallowing my thoughts and once more fascinated by how the blood wells up. That flash of white when you make a cut, that line of red, then the beads of deep red that form.

p.s This is poorly edited.

Random Comfort

I have come to realise that each journey is different. I might have started this particular one with other people but I am not ending it with them. It hurts, ngl. There’s something about being a part of a group that made me, what’s the word? Comfortable. I allowed myself to feel comfortable. To stay safe in my little corner, surrounded by the familiar, and now that the unfamiliar is looming, my sanctuary is no longer a source of comfort to me.

Comfort :(of a person) physically relaxed and free from constraint

Exactly, free of constraint and physically relaxed. I got too relaxed with everything I did, no, not everything I did, silly me, everything I do. I wake up and want the routine to be the same as every other day. I just want to remain the fish in the pond, forgetting that there comes a time when the fish grows and has to leave the pond.

Well, when I started this, I had an idea of what I wanted to write. I had an order to somewhat guide what I wanted to write. Just like my life, I had a list, a plan, I didn’t know exactly how that plan was going to work out, but I was committed to it.
Today, I had to throw out that plan.

I did not like it.

The best memories most of us have, came from unplanned circumstances. Maybe, that’s the way forward, to move with a rough idea of what I want, as opposed to being obsessed with achieving every little thing in my life’s plan.

So I am making a promise to me, that henceforth, I would accept the uncomfortable on this journey. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s something that has to be done.

In conclusion(I have no idea why I added that bit),go stretch. Yes, put that device down, take a deep breath and stretch. Use it as a warm-up for the journey you are about to embark on because you’ll need it.

Random Rains.

Well, I guess I’m continuing with this silly plan of writing about my life. This is a but sad. That’s just the mood I’m in. Sorry.

Today I went out in the rain.

 It was cold and hard. I didn’t go out for fun. I went out to open the gate for my mom and spent an awfully long happy time in the rain. 
After helping my mom inside the house, I went to put some water on to boil for tea and to bath with. 

While waiting for the water to boil, I started reminiscing about the past. I remember walking home from school in the rain and getting home to hot water ready for bathing. Happy met my sister and I at the front door, with dry towels and bundled us off to the bathroom, where hot water was waiting. After a hot bath, she served us tea or our food.On this particular day, I remember walking into the room and seeing so many pictures on the bed. Pictures of Happy’s relatives and friends, some long dead; a past life that I knew nothing about. 

I remember her crying, I was shocked. I didn’t know adults could cry. Surely adults don’t cry and they most definitely do not cry about missing the dead. I just hugged her and patted her on the back. I had no idea what to do. 

The water started boiling. I fetched some out on to the tea leaves. Lemon grass. A favourite. Sip on my tea for a while, then go take a shower. 
What I learnt, adults do cry. 
Death is hard to deal with. 
In as much as you think you’re over it, something happens. Makes you remember, a smell perhaps; those random ones that you can’t seem to tell where it comes from, there one minute and gone the next.
Perhaps Google photos when you’re loading all information from an older device to a new one.

I don’t have a good conclusion so I guess..

Drink lots of water.

That’s a good conclusion, right?

Random ramblings.

Okay so here’s the deal, this might just be the most confusing piece of writing to ever exist. Maybe, maybe not.

Would it make sense?

Maybe, maybe not.

Would you be entertained?

Most likely.

Are you going to wonder about the state of my mind?

Most definitely.

So I don’t have a subject matter but I’m writing based on what can best be described as a mixture of experiences I have had and thoughts in my head. Sorry in advance if you think I am referring to you in any way, shape or form. It’s either because I really love you or I simply could not be bothered by how you would feel (J.K) or maybe not. But yeah!

Disclaimer: This is in no way, shape or form referring to anyone you think it does. Honestly, please don’t even think it. I really can’t afford to deal with any drama legal or otherwise.

P. S, I’m serious, I don’t mean any harm whatsoever. Oh, and now I’m overexplaining instead of just writing. Ah well….

P. P. S, expect random recipes etc.… in this piece of art. I think it’s time to start.

Okay, I’m starting now.

So, It’s Friday. I love Fridays, I was born on a Friday. I mean, that shouldn’t be why I love Fridays. But come onnnnnn! THE LAST DAY BEFORE THE WEEKEND!!!

I remember reading that children born on Friday are the life of the party and yeah, I can see that. I am definitely the life of the party, if the party was for one person, and was sad. (Pity party for one, anyone? Except it’s for one so you’re not invited). The most energetic life of the party-esque person I have ever had the joy of meeting was Happy.

Yeah, Happy.

Purple nails and dyed purple hair. Man, she loveeeddd purple. It was cute af. (oops, I mean I can say af, right?) I love Happy. She always had a kind word for someone, a smile and she gave the best hugs ever.

My first memories of Happy involved shrimp jollof, gentian violet, fried plantains, and hugs that smelled mildly of disinfectant. (That shrimp jollof recipe is for family only, sorry guys).

What was I talking about Friday borns or Happy? I forget which. But one thing is for sure, I can never think of Friday without thinking about Happy. Right now, I have a headache. I’ve been thinking about my sister a lot. She’s sad and scared that she might have contracted Covid-19 from classmates.

How an institution would feel it necessary to force students to report to school physically baffles me a lot. The worst part of all this is the uncertainty till the results for the test are out. The best part is standing at her door and belting out lyrics and waiting for her to sing in response. So far, I’ve done that Disney song, from the movie with the two sisters, the one that has the scene in which one sister is asking the other one to go build a snowman. (She’s not pleased with that at all)

Now, this has got me thinking. What at all is the purpose of switching classes that were running perfectly well online to ones that require attendance in person?

The kids were relatively safer at home where they were in contact with family (not saying that’s the safest but at least they had their movements monitored). I can’t imagine trying to study with the knowledge that some of my very best friends have contracted Corona virus. A virus which people are dying of each day, hour and minute. What if the last time we saw each other is exactly that? The last time. That would suck, a lot. I think that’s my biggest fear.

The uncertainty that comes with contracting the virus. Would I be fine?

Would I die?

Even if I did get better, what would happen to my body?

Knowing that so many people have had these same thoughts is a sort of disturbing comfort, like the knowledge that an animal if killed properly does not feel much pain before ending up as lunch.

I guess I’m ending it on this note. Wear a mask, wash your hands and go tell that person you love them.

Random Tides

I want to be done with you

I want to move on from you

Just hold me once again and trust me you say

For real this time

Yes, for real

Let’s start over

I can make you happy

I can make you proud of yourself

You have too much inside to keep it bottled

Let me take it away

Let me be the empty bottle you fill up once again

Come on

You are going to give in, eventually

I laugh at myself

Why am I having a conversation with myself?

Come on

We need this

We can’t be we

I am me

You’re just a figment of my imagination

Projected, so I don’t have to deal with my insecurities

You cannot keep taking these pictures

You can’t be sharing yourself with everyone

But I need that validation

I need to feel wanted

What am I then?

You are me, and I am you

We don’t make sense anymore

Yes, I don’t

And for once

I am okay with that

Okay, why are we talking to each other?

Random Validity

This feels wrong on so many levels.

Am I seeing problems where problems do not exist?

Wait what are problems?

I keep hearing myself, tell myself that emotions do not matter

Keep it in baby girl

There is nothing to get so worked up over.

Relax it would pass soon.

No, relax

I am sorry

I already reacted

My emotions are valid

Or are they really?

I keep going back and forth

I cannot discern what is right or wrong anymore

There is no right or wrong

There is just different perspectives

My perspectives are led by my emotions and by facts

My facts are valid

So then why are my emotions invalid?

Random Sorry(s/ies)

I remember the day you asked me to fix the problem I caused.

You were angry, you had every right to be.

You were hurt, I understand.

You wanted better, you expected better, you were working for better.

I wanted to be better.

I truly did.

You saw mountains in my molehills.

I brushed of your insecurity to deal with my feelings and thoughts, and life.

I needed that.

In the process I discovered things about myself you could not deal with.

They wrecked you, almost destroyed you.

Correction.

They destroyed you.

I could have handled it better.

I could not deal with my past.

I wanted to help, to be better.

I threw caution to the wind and tried blending my past and future.

Stupid mistake.

Lesson learnt.

I think about it again, would I do that again.

The answer is probably yes.

I should have accepted the truth.

I cannot fix everything.

No, I really cannot.

The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton