Friday, 30 August 2013

30 August, 2013.

Have you ever known pain? Not the physical one. Not the visible wounds that bleed. There's another kind of pain. Pain that sucks the life out of you. Pain that kills your will power. Pain that destroys you. Like Mrs Adenuga's pain when her husband took their househelp as second wife. Or Adanma when she walked in her boyfriend  making out with another boy. The hardest part was the shame they both had to deal with. Adanma couldn't tell people why she left her boyfriend. Mrs Adenuga, on the other hand, could'nt leave her husband, she had his six children and no job. Now Mrs Adenuga is a shadow of herself. She never leaves the house, she fears the shame and the gossip. She preferred to stay indoors and embrace the darkness and spite for her husband that was eating her up. Adanma never forgot the image of her boyfriend with the guy he was with. She couldn't seem to convince her heart to love again. There's always pain that comes with loving someone. Love is weakness. Funmi seems to think so, as Ayo has been in control of her "mumu button" for more than three years now. She simply cannot help herself around him. He never made her forget her irrelevance as he always flaunted his fiance in front of her. She held on stupidly still and only accepted her fate when he got married to the girl. One of the biggest weddings in Lagos. However she is still very much content still with her duties of satisfying him on nights he chose to remember her.

Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Old Notes.

...I see this boy holding his girl close. I see the girl smiling at him. I think of how happy they are. Then I think of you and why you are not here...
...It is in pain that our minds release the most wonderful expressions. It is when we hurt that our heart spits out creativity in disgust. It is when we are broken that our words are most alive....
...I cannot stop thinking about last night and how beautiful your eyes were in the darkness. In them I saw a desire that reflected my own. I remember how sweet your mouth tasted. How my small palms cradled your face. How despite my helplessness, I wanted to protect you....
...I was too tired to understand why bad things happen to good people. Its been a reoccurring event. In the morning I was half mad with sleep. I am rambling because I don't want to say that I was heartbroken when I didn't see you yesterday...
...Your hands were warm as they held my cold ones. I didn't want you to leave me on my lonely bed to face the cold night alone. I thought I saw something reassuring in your eyes but the darkness made me uncertain of what I saw...
...I've realized its okay not to understand sometimes. We simply cannot have the answers to everything. Half of my emotions are strangers with no names. Tormenting me to confusion. But today, I want to smile so I'm concentrating on beautiful things like love and how its brings true happiness...

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Knowing Need.

I wore my loneliness on my face. I carried my grief as a stench wherever I went. I knew need like a man with a thing in between his legs. I wanted my sexy neighbor Samantha, her husband and her fast maturing daughter alike. I knew what it meant to be in need. I was like parched earth needing rain. I was always so thirsty. So I had them. All kinds of men. Even then it was never enough. Like filling a woven basket with water. Each man left me emptier than before. It left a longing I did not understand. My thirst was becoming unbearable. I was beginning to look as haggard as my feelings. One day I heard the maid tell the cook in a hushed voice. "Small madam no fit sabi how to take am easy. All this exercise go soon break her waist. She fit do pass them ashewo sef". I cried my promiscuous ways out on my pillow that night. Swearing to myself.."Never again. Never again." But here I am, shamelessly naked on my distraught bed with Ikenna who was snoring away like a pig. He was no man. The three rounds we just did barely satisfied my appetite....

27 August 2013.

Mother taught me never to be forward with a man.. Only loose girls are, and prostitutes too. I never paid attention for some reason. I found being coy about someone you really wanted stupid. So I was the go-getter kind. And funny enough, I never got what I wanted. Maybe it was my forwardness. Or maybe I loved the wrong guys. Something about the way their carefree nature and the way it fueled my eagerness. I was interested in their disinterest in me. Or maybe I was looking for something to fill the emptiness within. I was too afraid of being lonely. But that was what I was. I had only loneliness embrace me during cold nights. Men crawled in and out of my bed. Some were drunk the whole time to even remember what happened. I found a temporary solace in alcohol. I loved the way it silenced my thoughts for a little while.It was my anti-depressant drug. I loved the way it made my nerves relax and the confidence it gave me. It made me bold enough to call Alhaji up to set another date despite the fact I knew he kept calling his dead wife's name while we fucked. My life without it was suffering. Torment. I never figured the reason for the tears I shed under my blanket, in the ladies room or in dark corners. I cried when Anita got married to that guy from the United States, and when Mariam got engaged to that rich man working at Mobil, the worst was when my younger sister asked me to be her maid of honor. Being coy was stupid, but you'd always get what you want at the end.

Monday, 26 August 2013

26 August, 2013.

I sat at my usual seat at the front my eyes focused on the teacher , frequently, nodding my head in understanding. I heard nothing, I just watched her lips move. I was afraid to look at the time like the other kids. I was afraid Mrs. Ezinne would tell Mama that I was becoming rebellious. Mama visited school often to see all my teachers, asking about my attitude to school work, my general behavior and the type of friends I kept. She told them to monitor me and they were to report to her if they had any complaints. I still remember when Mr. Ladipo told Mama that I had begun to follow boys only because he saw me with Chinemelem at break time, who came to ask me to explain some Math problem to him.That night Mama came to my room in the darkness of the night and used Papa's belt to flog out the demon of whoredom from my body. Mama says that demons are weakest when you attack them in the middle of the night. So that night at two am, Mama lashed me repeatedly while speaking in tongues. After that I stayed away from everyone. Mama taught me to talk to no one. "You don't need friends Nne'm, they are distractions. I sent you to school to study and nothing else." So at break time, I sat by myself in a corner solving my assignments and staring longingly at the other children playing together. My tummy grumbled too. Mama never gave me money or food for break time.And she taught me not to collect "witchcraft" from the other kids. Even on birthday celebrations in class, I would politely decline. Because of this attitude, I had no friends. One time, I was too hungry. During Cynthia's birthday. I let myself take the cake and sweets she shared. I hurriedly ate the cake and I saved the sweets in my bag for the next day. I forgot to take the sweets from my bag so Mama discovered them when she went through my school bag as she normally did. She slapped me repeatedly on the mouth asking me who I had collected the "mami water" from.
Things became worse when I entered secondary school. When Mama noticed I had started growing breasts, she made me wear big clothes. "Your body is God's temple", she said "...respect it". When we walked to the market together. She would make disgusted noises when she saw the young ladies skimpily dressed. Her "hmm"s and "haaa"s and "Tufikwa"s would be loud enough for the person it was directed to. Some of them walked past quickly, ashamed of themselves, others would eye Mama and hiss or throw in and insult or two. During such occasions, I would be quite embarrassed and quietly pray for the ground to open up and swallow me. One night, Mama came to me while I was sleeping, feeling my legs, then my laps, her hands traveled still in between my legs. I tried hard not to cringe, and lay still. After a while, she left the room. The next morning she called me. "Adanma, you sleep like a drunk, a man can have his way with you. You must learn to sleep with one eye open always." So the next time she came to me. I held her hand to stop her and she nodded in satisfaction and kissed my forehead. "Sleep well my child" and left the room.
I began to know sadness more than before and in a new light when I entered the University. I had no friends. In fact maybe no one wanted to be my friend. I was the girl they laughed at. I was the girl who wore the worn out clothes that were several sizes bigger than her. Guys wanted nothing to do with me, girls also.I knew loneliness intimately. Mama still came around to make sure I didn't backslide from the ways of the Lord. She came to talk to anyone who would listen to her. My professors pitied me. Some advised her to let me be, that I was grown enough to make my own choices. Instead she told me to beware of those lecturers that she was sure they wanted to sleep with me. Mama would make me kneel outside when she was about to leave and she would pray for me in the open where other people on campus would see and laugh. Mama made me scream amen to the prayers. If I was not loud enough or if I did not say "Amen" when I was  supposed to, Mama would knock me hard on the head for being ashamed of Jesus. "If you are ashamed of Jesus, He will be ashamed of you too". Mama scarred me in so many ways. But I feared her too much to disobey her. Sometimes I wished her dead in my mind. The only reason why I never added that in my prayers is that I feared the thought of her dying as much as I feared her....

Thursday, 22 August 2013

A Girl's Thirst.

You were finally where you belonged. In my dreams. Where my fantasies come to me. You were mine there, and it was so beautiful. So beautiful I cried. There, you knew my name. In my dream, I put a spell on you. I liked the twinkle in your eyes and the fact that you looked at me a little longer than you did in our world. You held me close and whispered promises of love and wonderful forevers. You sang lyrics of love songs to me while you kissed the nape of my neck. I still feel that tingle thinking about it. I love you anyhow. I don't care if you don't want me, I'm yours right now. Its a shame that I see you everyday and all you do is breeze past like you don't even know I'm there. I hate that. It kills me inside. I hate that you think me to be a child. Being twenty isn't being a child. Girls grow up way too fast in our world these days, at thirteen, they aren't children anymore. I started bleeding years ago. I could have your babies. Mini you's everywhere, running around if you want . Don't you notice how woman I am? I do not have the body of a girl no more. I think of how to look sexy every morning for you, just so you'd notice, its frustrating sometimes.  I feel like a filthy whore. You make me feel dirty. The way I try so much to get your attention. Bending down this way cause I know you're passing by.  I'm full of hormones for you. I'm so empty and so full of thirst. That makes me almost desperate. I cry inside when I think of all the sexy girls you may have been spending your cold nights with. But I'm smiling today because now I know all of that is going to change soon I guess. I see us together, going on dates. I see you making me laugh. Alot. You're happy too with me. You just don't know how beautiful our tomorrow is yet. So when you walked in today, I put something extra in my smile and forced myself to say more than the ceremonial "good morning" to you. You smiled back. And that was enough. Maybe it wasn't. But it's all Ive got for now.

Wednesday, 21 August 2013

Get Used To Living In Hell.

Embrace life as it comes to you
Make Love to every sickening second of it
Let your life pass before you in slow motion
Live every moment
Laugh at your woes and misfortunes
Caress hurt in her face
Let fear have your heart in her cold hands
Be a friend of the darkness
Know your sorrow intimately
Lick away your tears
Maybe, just maybe
If we let the worst come to us
If we take in all the bad
It would become part of us
Then maybe it wont hurt so much
Look evil right in the face
And dine with the devil
Live our lives so well
That death will tremble to take us.....

The Story Behind My Smile by Anonymous.

A Friend wrote this when I pressed on why he wasn't happy often. I decided to share for others who its directed to and  who are close to him and other people who can relate to this.

My smile. Its genuine. It will never let you hurt because I am. My smile is beautiful. To pull it off without missing a beat despite my whole world in shit is a phenomenal task. My smile is a masterpiece
But behind that smile is tears. Real nigga tears. Tears of Blood. Tears born from pain. Tears that make the hurt worse because crying and being that weak is unacceptable. I cry because I can see it all. Because when these people I love are desperate to be part of my life I won't be accommodating. But I smile because of the ones that hurt me the most. I smile because they must smile, even when they hurt me. I will smile because I can't bare to see them cry. Behind my smile is a life plagued with betrayal. I bend backwards and most times break to see them smile. But I break and no ones cares enough to help fix or tend to my injuries. I'm never what they want, and when I change for them I'm no longer who I was, a perpetual circle of inadequacy. Today I write without the grace of the skilled writer I am. Fuck my art, and Fuck your opinions. Today I share with you all of my heart, and even if you hate my writing, you will acknowledge these emotions. One way or the other. So get angry, be sad, be happy be whatever. You have already shared in this pain. Behind my smile is health challenges, a tumor and potential heart failure to go with it. Behind it is a life that will be spent on medication and uncertainty. Behind my beautiful smile is a struggle to forgive my family. To forgive their insensitivity, to forgive mistakes they made that forever changed my life. Behind my smile is a pain, because I know others have it worse than I do. Pain because I can see how ungrateful I am. Pain because I'm a bad person and I'm selfish. Behind my smile is a pain, real pain from people who have tried to kill me, pain from the scars and the bullet wounds. Pain because one day when I might be killed in front of my daughter, or my family will know pain because of me. There's more pain. Pain because I love you and you throw it back at me. Pain because I love you and you and you. Pain because I see you in pain in the future, and despite the depths I go to to prevent that, your naivete has blinded you to reason. Pain because I can't feed the dying child on the street, or bring the husband of that wailing woman back to life. Pain because the people I love die, and I can't do anything to save them, and no one cares to wipe these tears. Pain because I can't be understood, and everybody always points to my inadequacies. LoL fuck it my pain is real, and it lies behind every smile, and every single "I'm fine". Pain because I'm all alone in this world, with nobody to lean on really, left to hurt and get injured and heal and lift myself back up. Pain because the burden of doing it alone is overwhelming. Pain because I'm grateful that God trusts me so much, but then the burden of that trust must be felt. But then behind my smile is pain, and behind my pain is greatness. The greatness that makes me able to bear the pain. A greatness that not many possess. A greatness that begs me to forgive you all. A greatness that is God's goodness. A greatness neither one of us can ignore. This goodness is My Pain, My Smile and My Greatness.

Open Letter by @Dam_Xo

I am writing to you as a concerned Nigerian nineteen year old. After having visited your website, I find it disconcerting that there is scant mention of Nigerian literature there as with is the case with many Nigerian entertainment sites in general. Your entertainment-based website does not cater to an essential form of entertainment which is literature. It is also clear that the majority of popular Nigerian entertainment sites from, ynaija to mainly consist of pictures and updates about celebrity events, popular music and fashion. I understand this is an important form of entertainment; however, what I don’t understand is the neglect of literature in our entertainment media. It is disheartening that the majority of our lifestyle and entertainment websites do not consider writing as important enough to be represented or suitable as topics for discussion, similarly negligent are student-focused sites such as, which is entirely devoid of literary content. Meanwhile, many Nigerian blogs make no effort to reference a literary culture across Africa; the majority of them would rather focus on gossip, fashion, music and more superficial showbusiness elements that are pleasing to the senses, while there is scarcity of information to provoke thoughts and develop innovative thinking patterns among the youth.
If young minds are introduced to the world to question the status quo and prepare for new social beginnings, surely young people should be exposed to a variety of interests; this is however not the situation in Nigeria where edifying and stimulating content such as literature is harder to access. It makes one wonder what options are being presented to the Nigerian youths, to support their growth into well rounded adults. We ought to question how many young Nigerians are being adequately exposed to literature on social media. We need not ask about the void of literature in our society; it is obvious in our everyday lives, when we walk on the streets and when we shop at the markets the absence is reflected back at us. Do you ever wonder why book clubs are hard to come by even in universities? Does it occur to you that many young people have little or no knowledge about Nigerian contemporary literary stars well known abroad? When you mention authors like Teju Cole, Chika Unigwe, Nnedi Okorafor, Sefi Atta, Chinelo Okparanta and so on, people look at you with a blank incomprehension. Outside of tiny cliques in Lagos and Abuja, where are our well-read youths and future leaders busting with ideas to share news about the latest book they are reading?
As Nigerians we have failed to understand the importance of literature in facilitating knowledge of history and stimulating a collective imagination adequate to the problems we face. We constantly strive to emulate countries like the United States and the UK, but we don’t emulate properly, after all true knowledge demands we filter what we observe and practice what we have learnt. What have we learnt about literature? Have we realised that the US owes the fundamentals of its democracy to the French enlightenment philosophers who wrote books on rights and freedom? We neglect our own “enlightenment philosophers” at our peril.
It is for the above reasons I am writing to you, to ask that more attention be paid to our writer’s ability to nourish and stir our emotions. We should pause and ask ourselves what types of leaders we are raising; are they to become philistines with no bookshelf or digital library at hand to guide their thinking? Are you happy with the reality that our young only care for fashion, music and Nollywood gossip? Literature offers a myriad of choices to us, clarifying our thoughts while at the same time transporting us to familiar and unfamiliar destinations; literature can help us albeit temporarily to escape from the ills of the society at the same time providing vital lessons, expanding the reach of our words and our minds. In a society where we have online videos of governors testing primary school teachers on their reading skills (and ending with a #epicfail), it should be important to us that we are not the next targets for embarrassment.
In conclusion, I would like to thank you for taking the time out to read this letter. I hope you are persuaded on the importance of literature in our society and that I was able to stimulate you to create a literature section on your entertainment blog. It will cost you nothing, and only serve to enhance and expand your existing offering. It will also give you the added advantage of catering to a wider and more varied audience. How better to show your commitment to entertainment than by promoting all aspects of human creativity?
I eagerly await your response, and hope dearly that we can look forward to the time when literature is as valued as other forms of creative expression already well represented in our society.
Thank you.
Damola Fakunle, Age 19.

Tuesday, 20 August 2013

20, August 2013.

The night was alot of things. Wild. Dirty. Naughty. Dark. She made her way through the crowd and the stench of whatever evil that filled the air. Her friends sat in a corner, one up, dancing loosely catching the attention of the stranger at the other end of the room. They were all drunk. All of them but her. Something about the night didn't call to her. She needed her sanity to locate him She was almost sad already that he wasn't with her. She was horny all through the drive here, thinking of the bad things he would do to her. She was so ready to be defiled, so ready it  hurt. She was frustrated now searching for him. Everyone else had given into the intoxicating air of hormones, alcohol and weed. Their bodies humping each other lustfully to the music. She sighed hopefully. She was nearly devastated with her dead phone. She knew the night was going to waste away. Deep down inside she knew. Just like everyone there. She came here for him. She wanted to leave. She looked at her friends. Some guy almost had his dick in one's mouth, apparently the others found it hilarious. One was silently making out with a face she did not recognize. Her friends were not ready to leave just yet obviously. She decided to move around. Maybe find someone hot to dance with, someone to comfort her and make her forget her current frustration. She didn't have to move too far. She saw him. With her. They found a comfortable spot. Shamelessly satisfying their heat. Kissing her like his tongue was in her throat. His hands squeezing every part of her in the most disrespectful way. She snorted in disgust and left. Everywhere seemed to hurt all of a sudden. She finally got outside. She let her tears fall freely now as the evening breeze caressed her skin.

The best presents.

...I finally let out that first moan, throwing my head back, letting go. I grabbed the sheets struggling to at least maintain my balance and not fall off the edge of the bed where I was now. My lips were hurting, I probably bit it too hard. he was still there. I could feel it. It was probably all I felt. The pleasure. The pleasure sang and I felt my body whine in response. His tongue, stoking my clit did that to me. My ragged breaths were not enough. I was a woman on heat and this was my release. I felt myself release the built up sexual tension. This was the best orgasm I had experienced in my twenty years of existence. I was moist and still wanting more. His tongue left the feminine vee of my legs to torture the other parts of my body. I held him close, murmuring senseless words and  his mouth now suckled on my right nipple. We had been like this for two days now. We had been everywhere in the house like this. The kitchen, the swimming pool, the sitting room, on the washing machine in the laundry room. This was probably the only time we used the bed. His tongue trailed downwards again. I felt my body tremble, the pleasurable shivers that shot through my body. He lay me down on the bed. Face down I was, while he massaged my neck, back and behind with oil, kissing every part with his mouth as he went along.This was my graduation present. The apartment, the sex, the food and I loved every bit of it. Today was our last day alone and we were trying to do things right. Do it on a bed. I felt his hands shaking as he massaged my bum again. He was obviously fighting hard to control himself. He pulled me up to him as his lips claimed mine. His tongue teasing mine, his lips warm and soft. I let my fingers run down his face, trace his muscular arms, his middle, pulling him closer to me. I felt his control snap. I smiled at him with heavy eyes. My turn. I pushed him back to the bed. I saw his astonished face as I led him inside of me slowly. I wanted to do this my way, let him know he had taught me well. Let him feel the pleasure I could give. So I sat on top of him, moving at my own slow pace, grinding and whining with him inside of me, sending ripples down my spine. He leaned up and pushed himself deeper inside of me. I felt him occupy all of me in the sweetest way. We moved to our rhythm, the one we both magically understood till we rode to the heights of heaven together, finding pleasures and extremes we never knew existed. I screamed your name when I came. I felt you there too. You grabbed my hair and I heard your loud grunt. Then we fell back exhausted on the sheets.....

Sunday, 18 August 2013

Sunday, 18 August.

Take a deep breath
Let the waves of calm wash over you
Feel your nerves relax
What you fear does not exist
It is we who create the monsters that torment us
In our minds, in our minds
Some of us die without living.
Look at life
Like a painting
See how beautiful it looks all wrong and rough
Smile at every little thing
Find happiness even in silliest of things
You need the laughter
You need to laugh at Life.
Do not let life overcome you
With sorrow, sadness or hurt.
Find love in the purest of places
Love yourself, love living.
You may not be perfect
But know the beauty in imperfection
You are beautiful darling, in one too many ways
You feel out of place because you see things different
They call you werid, crazy misfit
They are just words
You're most beautiful in your madness
Its raining now outside
But you can overcome
If only you can rise above it all
Their burdening gossip and the heaviness of the rain
If only you can laugh through it all
Then and only then
You have truely lived.

Midnight rantings.

I have no strength to gather my thoughts together
So have them as they are
Untamed and flying around.....

Too much of you around to remind me of how bad you hurt me
I let you mess with my head
For a little longer
Telling myself I was still safe somehow
That I hadn't let you get to me, get to me much
There's no excuse for being full of excuses
I just needed you to stick around just a little longer
I let me forget myself, a little too much
And I let your scent lead me to nowhere
Now I'm lost and I need to remember
Who I am
How I got to this place
You hold my hand but I see you on the other side
On the other side of the water with that other girl
I remember how I always felt cold
I was cold because you were busy keeping her warm
Now I'm drowning in my regrets
My thoughts are eating me
As there are no remedies for memories.
And nights like this
Sleep has refused to know me
She would rather sit and watch me with mocking eyes
Watch me bleed for love.
I'm safest by myself
But I fear my empty bed and the long nights
Now I don't care if you love me
Or you think you do
I'm going to wander off
Chasing my own scent this time
And let Life happen for me
Find myself and my rebellion
I'm tired of singing your song
I can still feel you touching me
Your cold hands like death
Begging me to return
Telling me you own me
But baby this is where our story ends
I will let my heart soar
High enough
And the one I never thought will come
The one that would give me the world
The one that will make me his everything
Will come.

Friday, 16 August 2013

Something amazing about a girl.

...She had one of the most amazing bodies I had ever seen. I was attracted to her body twice as much as I was to her mind. Her breasts were the kind that you'd want to do a thousand things to. Now here she was. In that new underwear looking hot as hell. She was shy, just like her heart. She wanted to hide. I could tell. The way she stood. I walked up to her. And claimed her mouth with mine. Hers was warm and soft. My tongue teased hers till I felt her body relax. Her kiss became more inviting. My hands were restless. Everywhere. The small of her waist. Pushing her body closer still. My hands squeezing her soft round butt. I felt her whimper. Good. Good. I unhooked her bra and took the first nipple in my mouth. She moaned out loud in pleasure.....I just wanted to show her how much I loved her. How much pleasure I could give and more. I'd do anything to please this girl. I took the second nipple in my mouth. Kissing it lovingly with my tongue. Sucking it. Then biting it so she gasped in shock. I took her to the bed. Leading her by the hand. I lay her down and took her panties off. I let my tongue journey up and down her clit. Sliding all the way. I heard her mummur things I couldn't make sense of. I wanted to touch her everywhere. Make love to every part of her body. I kissed her female tightness. Frenching it with her tongue. I could feel her thicken up. I tasted every bit of her till she came. Making the most delightful female noises I had ever heard.

Thursday, 15 August 2013

Sometimes and Maybe...

Sometimes I would sit under the shower and cry
And convince myself it was the water and not my tears that flowed
Everyday welcomed a new pain
I became my own grief
Sometimes I wondered whether the stars held any promise
Or tomorrow would be as dark as yesterday
I wondered why we were so alike.
Like our souls were tied together
Like our hearts were one, one and not two
I thought being with you was different from all the others
I had never been this connected to another being like this before
We were like one plant, two branches intertwined
I wondered why I thought we were forever
When I knew you still wouldn't understand what it felt like to me be
Inside me I knew you would be lost too
somewhere in the ocean like the others I had loved.
Maybe its me, maybe its life
Somehow I hoped your heart heard mine
and those times I silently begged
For you to understand
For you not to wander away
Or I hoped I could see your mind. Inside inside
Maybe, just maybe I would have known before you said goodbye
Or maybe you wouldnt have left me
Maybe I wouldnt be singing aloud to myself
Maybe I wouldnt be praying to unexist
Maybe I wouldnt have needed to buy all those teddies for my bed
Maybe I'd not fear closing my eyes to sleep
Maybe I'd smile back at the people at work
Maybe I wont scream at my dog so often
Maybe I would have fed the cat and she wouldnt have run away
Maybe I would have remembered to cover the parrot and she wouldnt have died of cold
Maybe I would have paid attention to the needs of the monkeys and now I think they've gone mad
Maybe I wouldnt have had to buy all these animals
To fill up that space
That kept growing
After you said goodbye.

Wednesday, 14 August 2013

To whom It may concern,

You there,
Do you know the first thing about love? You were too insecure when I first met you. I changed all that. Made you feel beautiful. Made you feel important. I loved you. Every way I could, even more. Do you see the way I hurt at all? My hyper ventilation. See the way I'm struggling to breathe. See the way I'm struggling to live. Only because you act the way you do. Selfish. Stupid and Ignorant. You act like you don't know when you stab my heart, you act like you cant hear my deafening screams each time you wander off with any boy, just anyone who gives you just a little attention. You know these boys and all they are searching for is a little fun. You tell me about your dreams to be a wild one. You're foolish enough to tell me to wait for you to let you wander off into the kind of life your heart yearns for. And I'm more foolish that I actually consider your offer. I have loved you to foolishness. Ive been everything you needed me to be and more. And yet when I need you. When I need you to just understand. You become cold and distant. My darling, do you know the first thing about love? It is selfless. It is giving. It is forgiving. That was why I forgave you every time and everything . But then we always find ourselves back at that place where I'm hurting again because you want to live whilst your young. You like the other boys that claim to like you. I endure the pain. I just watch you flirt the way you do. Shamelessly with them. Its long becoming insulting. Like I don't exist. I almost gave up on my life. Because I loved you. You made me question my worth. Whether I was enough human to live. Whether I was enough man for you. Now I'm just afraid. Of the way I kill myself for you. I fear I maybe stupid enough to wait for you. Maybe now I'm just angry. That I fell in love with the devil. You are a devil because you know what you are doing and you do it anyways. My young ignorant girl, you know nothing about love. But let me teach you one thing. Never rubbish the feelings of the one person in the world who genuinely loves you. Because at the end I'm all you really have. You're pushing me away. And all your boyfriends, they like the weather will pass. And at the end all you will be is cold, lonely and sad.

Good morning guys.

There are days when the rain falls like stones raining from the sky, each drop that used to cool you from the sun turns to pain. There are days when laughter sounds foreign, some language you would never understand. There are days when you look into your own eyes and find colors you never imagined in them. Those days you would need to remember you and that you are greater than you know only then would your weak knees have more strength and you would surpass the limits you thought you had.

Tuesday, 13 August 2013

"No!" , she screams. He slaps her hard on the mouth before she can utter another word. She struggles to remain conscious. It was harder that way but she had to fight. She had always been a fighter. She had fought for him once upon a time. Before she knew his ugliness. He was good to look at, fine features, something you'd put at home like a trophy or medal. The girls were numerous. She remembered how hard she had to try. To keep him satisfied. "Pleasure wins the heart of a man", they say. Sex. Food. Laughter. So she made it happen. She became all he needed. Porn star. Cook. Clown. She bled to his satisfaction. That wasn't what hurt her most. It was the fact he did not discourage the other girls. They would always come around. She remembered the days she'd burn with jealousy in silence. Watch him laugh with them like he never did with her. Those days, she'd hug her pillow while her heart cried to her the new jokes she'd tell him. No one knew her pain. No one saw her suffering. They all thought them to be a cute couple. Sometimes she cursed the gods for their wickedness. Making her love him. She questioned his delay. Why he hadn't asked her out yet. It was her prayer every night. Finally, the gods answered, they were tired of her prayers so they let her have what she wanted. Sometimes unanswered prayers are intended to protect us from our demise. Its just that we don't know we cannot read the minds of the gods, can we? We are too stubborn to understand. So she danced in the skies, she danced in the waters, she danced on the mountains, the night he asked her to be his girl. Probably it was her fault, maybe she just didn't see the need to try anymore. He started to talk. He started to complain. He started to shout. He started to hit her.She could never understand how fast things had changed. It had been a month and a day and she had begun to curse the day she was born. She wondered why she had been blinded or whether she had just refused to see. She lay now with her torn sad clothes, almost lifeless on the ground. Apart from today, she had been raped six times. Somewhere inside, her mad heart still sang, "I love him, I love him.." This was why she wouldn't leave. This was why she couldn't tell anyone. She hardly left the house. She could never explain the bruises that were forever on her body, the ones she couldn't hide. She only tended to her wounds to get hurt again. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered cleaning them at all. Worse were the scars that couldn't be seen. She was a damaged girl now, with so much hurt that drove her to madness. They were not married. It was just a relationship. Yet her life was no longer her own. She belonged to him now. His punch bag. His sex slave. His maid. She was only nineteen yet she felt so old. She finally let the tears flow. She never cried for herself. She wept for her family and all the people that had warned her. The ones she had ignored. The ones that truly loved her.

Monday, 12 August 2013

Last post today. Enjoy the rest of your Monday guys.

Hi. I'm hoping to kill time with this post. Hopefully time would move faster now that I'm pretending not to notice.Ive decided to use plain words and not hide behind some story or some sad feeling this time. So here are things as they are. I am exhausted. Been exhausted since I left bed this morning. And Work. Work isn't helping. I want to open up, vent and say all the horrid things I have in my head. So between answering calls, attending to people and stamping and signing shit I know nothing about. Work has been something. People tried to comfort me today. You know yourselves. I appreciate your kind words. May others also make you smile on your days of sadness and trials. I dont think I'd ever get used to working here but I'd try. You know we all have strengths we are unaware of. I hope mine will be able to carry me through. Its remaining ten minutes guys. Almost six. Thanks and God bless.
                                                                                                                         Yours Truly.

Soldiers of Fortune 2 - The bad President.

We ate dinner in silence as we always did. Only the disturbing noises of our plates and spoons could be heard. I had gotten used to this. I had absolutely nothing to say to my parents after that day. After I saw papa and the other soldiers rape that girl. I felt her pain as they took turns brutally defiling a girl I was sure was barely thirteen. I could still hear the girl scream and beg in my head. I see her blood in my dreams every night. That I fear to close my eyes to sleep. I remember Papa laughing and slapping her hard on the mouth when she cried begging and trying to protect herself with her feeble hands. Worse, I remember running home to Mama telling her to hurry with me to save the girl. I remember how she looked away and told me to go to my room. She already knew. She came to my room that night and with soft words, tried to make excuses for papa. She said Papa was a  good man but the bad president made Papa do bad things. I knew the president didn't make Papa and those men rape that girl. Mama was weak. I could see it in her eyes. Days later at school Papa and soldier men came. They searched everywhere and threw out Mrs Thompson from her class. Papa was the one that fired the gum. Fired the gun into Mrs Thompson's head. After that day, I had no more friends. The teachers wouldn't even acknowledge me when I greeted them. My father was a bad man. He killed people for the president. I was the daughter of a bad man. I hated him. Papa came home late often. Papa came home drunk often. Papa hit mama often. Tonight was one of the nights he hit her. Her face was visibly swollen even under the dim lights in the room. She winced each time she moved quickly. I didn't even pity her. I was filled with so much hate and the food tasted vile in my mouth. I hated Papa. I hated Mama. I hated the bad President.

Soldiers of Fortune - JUNE 8, 1998.

Everyone jubilated the day Abacha died. I remember the day like yesterday. I was 5 years old. It was during the math class the news came in. The female teacher in the other class screamed. I thought she had seen a snake. We all rushed out like small midgets. Our teacher too. "He is dead. He is dead". She kept saying. Then there was a total disarray. Mrs Kalu and her gang were singing and dancing. Others jumped up and down. Mr Bright smiled like he killed the man himself. Headmaster came late. Actaully smiling in his favorite suit. They didn't flog Abah when she threw stones at the monkeys in the cage. I didn't understand this happiness. Teachers kept congratulating themselves, hugging each other while us children stared in confusion. I pulled Miss Hadiza's dress with questioning eyes. She was crying. " The wicked man is dead, baby. Nigeria is free" was all she said and carried me up in her arms.I didn't understand but I didn't want to spoil the moment. She had never carried me before. So I enjoyed the moment in silence suckling greedily at my thumb. That night I saw him in my dream. The one they spoke of, chasing all of us in school. He wore a soldiers uniform and had a terrifying face. I was screaming his name as I ran for my life. I woke up in the pool of my sweat. I never spoke of the dream to anyone. It was the morning after.

Wednesday, 7 August 2013

8, August 2013.

I feel myself sway  to the unusual confusing rhythm of life moving lifelessly in my in my blood stained white dress. As I move my heart bleeds out more red to the cloth. Letting the hurt flow down in spiral lines down the dress to the ground. The drops of blood trace the steps of my dance. My journey on this earth. One full of pain. I dance because I hate the world. I am not who I started out as. I miss my innocence. The days of my childhood where my naive heart would believe in anything. Now I have lost the strength to hope. To dream. And happiness has traveled far away,  I pray for myself to come back to that little girl I used to be that would run free-spirited, hair in the wind, carefree on the beach side.

Tuesday, 6 August 2013

Wrote this during TTG.

I miss Shisha.i need to feel light headed again. I want to dance to those stupid Nigerian songs with meaningless lyrics with an air of reckless abandon. I need to stare at  the world without seeing the many things wrong with it. I want to live, even if it would be for a moment. I need to feel numb again and let my body ignore that familiar ache in my chest. my long days have begun. Those unbearable moments that would seem like forever. And this is my only solace, the little comfort my heart could find. So Im letting my pen run freely on these lines, spit out the untamed words so you can understand the sorrow beneath them. The sadness that has blinded me from seeing any meaning to this life. So I'm just here existing. Hoping for the day when the good things will come. Have my  lover pull hard at my hair when we make love so I know I'm not dreaming. I can hear words jump around in my head, each one begging to be noticed, begging to be expressed. A time will come when I would do the things Ive got no control of. For I feel the urge to cause havoc on the world that has caused me pain. So hear this my unspoken plea and let me loose to this temporary high. Let me get drunk on my frustrations and smoke out my fears. Let me become that invincible being you have always imagined me to be. Give me purpose, a reason to stop singing the same old sad song of the lovers that I have lost. I don't need to pass through the hell that is these two weeks to soar like an eagle in the skies.

Sunday, 4 August 2013

"I love you Tife soloye"

Her eyes held a familiar pain. One I knew too well to turn away. I was mezmerized to find a story so like mine. I stared deeper. The colors in her eyes told her story. One filled with love, one filled with hurt, one filled with pain. But then I saw her smile. Something I never did. A bright smile from the heart. Life could be beautiful the smile said. It moved me. I walked toward her with purpose. Everything drew me to her. The light I saw in her was enough to send away my darkness.  She reached out till I was able to hold her hand. Then I knew I'd never have to be alone again. She squeezed my small fingers softly. I had found a new strength. I smiled back at her and finally spoke, "I love you Tife Soloye".

Saturday, 3 August 2013


Its been a while. But hey I'm a graduate.I've been thinking of the right words for several minutes. To explain how and what i feel inside. But fuck it. I am a graduate. There are no words for this. I am a graduate. I'd keep saying the words till they sink down deep. I am a graduate. Till I understand the words enough to fear them. I am a graduate. Till I begin to wonder about tomorrows uncertainty. I am a graduate. Till i look back and smile at the past and the people I left with it. I'm a graduate. Alot has changed. Hopefully I visit here more often.