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.

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.

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.

"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".

Hey.

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.