Remembering My Lover

You know how you like a song so much, you play it endlessly and think you will never get tired of it only to get to a point where it becomes unbearable to listen to and you always skip it when it’s ugly head pops up in your playlist? 

It’s a vicious cycle really. It seems I’ve found a song I haven’t gotten tired of. It’s almost a year now and I can still bear it; hell, I still love it. Its lyrics are perfect, sung with the perfect voice and to the perfect beat. Beautiful!

I crave this kind of love, this kind of consistency(odd use), this kind of bond.

Such is, well was, my previous relationship. It was one that started off beautifully. Every move was perfect. We clicked from the very first time we encountered one another. We looked good together, it didn’t look like we would ever get tired of being together.

But things happen; life happens. We always want things to go our way; and want the beautiful things we love to stay, forever. We forget there are many variables we cannot control and sometimes these variables, when altered by life, come with unfortunate consequences were forced to bear. 

Our relationship was a victim of one of such variables. Everything was going fine, we both were happy, it’s okay to say everything was perfect. Each person accepted the others scars, wounds and flaws; and so it was effortless to be ourselves whenever we were together. We were very different people, but as a couple, we complemented each other. 

Till this day, it hurts me. I remember the day we broke up. It was so unexpected. My heart still aches when I think about it. I had prepared my N500 and requested two meat pies only for the attendant to tell me that meat pie is now N270 naira. 

Goodbye Meat Pie. I will always love you.


His Cross – Part 1

Prompt – Subtle

He wears a smile wherever he goes. The pain, the hurt, the insecurity; he hides behind a mask. A mask of joy and happiness. Happiness so pure, it’s almost unreal; even though it is, for he is not happy; or joyous. His heart aches, his head hurts, as he wonders when, just when, when will he feel true happiness again.

His life had been perfect; his joy intact. He was a little boy with not a care in the world. A child’s happiness is heavenly; it is perfect. Perfect as the child has not gone through a lot yet. And so, he lives each day, smiling, laughing and jumping, because life is good, very good; at least for now.

Good things happen to bad people. Not that they deserve it, obviously, or that they put themselves in precarious po-situations™; these bad things just choose you. And once you have been chosen, there is no escape. Besides, where is the fun in bad things happening to bad people?

Like every other day, he played; innocence so overwhelming, it was too good to be true. Little did he know the ceaseless joy was life’s way of preparing him for years of unhappiness, of insecurity, of pain, of hurt, of tears he would have to hide.

Everyone has a cross to bear. No two crosses are the same. Similar, yes, but never the same. Some crosses are tougher to bear or carry than others. That is how it can appear anyway. But in truth, all crosses feel the same. Because pain is pain. And hurt is hurt. A loss is a loss, and a cross a cross.

But he would realise that all crosses are really not the same. His cross, so tough to bear, he would not wish it on his worst enemy.

His life was about to start. He was going into a new place, a new part of his life. And he was going to leave home for a while. Others cried at the beginning of this race as they had never been away from home. But not him; he was enthusiastic, a curiosity so intense burning inside him as he lived for new experiences.

The race started well. There were a few hiccups but nothing out of the ordinary; normal things that occurred in this type of race, or world. He endured the bumps in the road as he knew the time to return home, albeit for a short while, was near. The fact that he was blessed with rather good looks attracted a good number or ‘she’s’ and this made enduring the hurdles easier.

This race had 6 legs, or years. Each leg had three laps, or terms. Altogether, he was going to go through eighteen laps, terms.

His life was going fine. Still a joyous boy, but not as joyous as some years back as various experiences opened him up to the evils of the world, he tried to enjoy every passing day.

And then it happened. In a very odd way. A way so enigmatic, it was obvious life wanted his happiness destroyed, gone..lost.

He had been called before the cross assigning board. They had said, as he clearly remembers,

‘You have been chosen boy. Your joy irks us. And so we have decided to plague you with a cross; one so… heavy’ the word heavy had been dragged, for emphasis. He had asked,

‘Why? Why now? Why me? Why?’

They had replied,

‘Never mind that, young boy. Just listen. Now this cross is one we thoroughly prepared specifically for you. One we feel you will have great difficulty accepting, or bearing. One that plagues you physically and emotionally. One that will be obvious to every other person, just so your pain is further aggravated. One that grows. One that is alive.’

‘But I do not deserve this. I have done nothing to deserve any of this’ he had said.

‘Shut up boy! No one chooses a cross. If they were allowed that luxury, crosses would be easy to bear. And that would not be fun, don’t you think? ’

They had dragged the issue. He argued and argued, trying and hoping to convince them to give the cross to another as he loved being happy. He pleaded but their conviction was unwavering.

On noticing this was a battle he would never win, he fell to his knees, weak, as he had almost no strength left in him.

His cross was placed on him.

‘Before you leave boy, know that there is a way out. But also know that we hope you never find it’, they had said as he left.

The next chapter of his life was about to begin. A chapter so long, so painful, so unfair for a boy so innocent.

The cross was heavy. One whose existence could not be traced or connected to any occurrence or disease. This was the first pointer to it being an actual cross. The cross he was to bear on his stay here.

This is his cross

I’m In My Feelings

I’m in my feelings right now.

There’s so much I want to say but I’d rather not. It’s not that I can’t; it’s just, I know there will be consequences, a ripple effect I wouldn’t want to see happen, occurrences I would prefer remain in my imagination, a couple broken relationships. So I’ll keep these feelings to myself.

Or not.

Many times, I want to share stuff; thoughts, feelings, a random story, stuff generally, with a friend, or a close companion. And just as I’m about to hit them up, I stop myself.

Would they care? Like really care. I mean, we all got our problems. I get the feeling I would be bothering them. And since these people are gentle souls that prefer to keep the harsh comments to themselves, they’ll pretend to care. But that’s not what I want. I need them to actually care. To actually be interested in these things I want to share.

There’s someone though. We vibe; zing even (that thing from the Hotel Transylvania movie) I believe this person feels me, understands me. Cos this person listens to me; allows me bother them with my sometimes really dumb stories, or thoughts. It’s a reciprocal thing anyway.

It’s a good thing, what this person and I have.

But to be honest, there are times when I sit and think about it.

Am I overestimating my importance maybe?

For real though, I know I shouldn’t feel these feels I’m feeling because of the way things are setup. Unfortunately, I can’t control the way things as delicate as this work. Catching feels finna be one of the 1000 ways to die.

Surely at a point in time, we all have gone through this – someone having high level importance in your life, cos that’s how much you feel them, but unfortunately, you don’t have the same gravity of importance in theirs. So saddening. It’s how I feel things between me and this person are. I consider them as the one I’m closest to; put them on a pedestal sort of. Even though I know this person probably doesn’t have me on something as short as a stool. And boy, it does hurt seeing them vibe with others, when they are the only one I vibe with.

Don’t get it twisted, I’m not lonely. But relationships come in different depths.

I’m magnanimous with my feelings. I don’t know what that word means or how it makes sense in that sentence but I really felt like using it. What I meant to say is, I’m generous with my feelings. I’m the kind of person that prefers to see another happy at the expense of my happiness. It’s just who I am. Be not deceived, I can be a very shitty person too; we all have the tendency after all.

In all this, I think what I’m trying to say is I really just want someone who rates me as high as I do them. Someone who holds me in high regard as much as I do them. I’m still young so there’s a lot of time. That person is somewhere out there. But in my heart, I really really wish that person could and would be this person I already sorta think I have a thing with 😐

Just to ruin the moment, this silly joke popped into my head
What does the prostitute call the device she uses to listen to music?
Her herpes


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The Void

Life feels empty

At times meaningless

I feel lost

And out of place

I don’t belong here

I should just move on

But ‘here’ is the only place I know

The only place I’ve lived

But this isn’t living

This isn’t human

I’m a shell

And I’ll soon crack from pressure

Collapsing into sand and dust

Being one with the Earth

Becoming ground and rock

With my memory withered out of existence

This…thing I have to live with

Fur Elise

(Not one of those Poems)

‘Fur Elise’ 

Bagatelle No. 25 in A Minor

Sixty minutes of bliss

Timeless  and beautiful

The product of heartbreak

He loved Elise but his love was unrequited

So he sat down

Used the pain

He released the pain of rejection

Similar to Footloose dancing

Only through a piano

Conveyed his feelings through melody and tune

And then a great song was born

Thank You Elise‘ He must have thought

So now my heart is close to broken

As my love is unrequited

But who knows? 

The pain can become something else

Written word? A Song? Dance?

Something generations will know about

I guess I’m dreaming

I am not Beethoven

I’m quite stupid

I never let you know about my feelings 

Mama said to never give excuses

So thank you for not loving me back 

Hurts like hell though

U. / P.