Heartbreak hurts because the love stays, even after they left. And because they are still worth loving. Because they are good people. And because there’s nothing to hate. You hate that you love them. You hate that you cannot unlove … Continue reading
Aswad has loved you for a decade and a half. 15 years. Fifteen years and you’ve never as little as agreed to hug him, let alone kiss him. Or be his girlfriend. You don’t recall how you met. But you … Continue reading
His palm felt soft to touch. I wanted to roll my palm completely in that softness. I didn’t know what made me not to: common sense or the fear that if I did, it would harden. We walk on in … Continue reading
Nwokem was my friend first. For much of my years in the university, we built a solid foundation for what became a romantic rollercoaster. We had no idea what we were doing so it was a sweet mess, going back and forth but never really leaving each other. Nwokem represented everything I wanted in a love interest at the time. He thought that what we had was different, I thought differently. To pieces, he loved me. In fact, if you told him I killed someone, he’d promptly tell you why I had to, without even asking me what happened. I am so grateful that I experienced that kind of intensity and immenseness. With Nwokem, I was loved completely, warts and all. What I loved about the way he loved me was the respect he accorded me. Anything that hurt me is not in his reality. His focus was simply to ensure that I smiled everyday. My first love was everything a first love should be, at least in my books. Even though it isn’t the last, I am convinced it is the reason the last would be the last: growth.
I LOVE MEN
I am often fascinated by what makes them what.
Let me tell you about one of them.
So this guy and I went on a date. I chose what I was going to wear carefully. I needed to be myself, as well as make a good first impression.
The three-quarter plain trousers and a turtleneck top I donned made me feel chic and comfortable.
I got to the lounge before he did and passed time replying emails and surfing the net.
Occasionally, I looked up to enjoy what view I could: lovebirds staring at each other and laughing at nothing, lounge chefs sweating away at the peppered fish grill, and Gen Zs snapping and posting away.
The view certainly helped calm my nerves ’cause I hadn’t been on a date in months.
Plus, I held him in penman awe as he is an extraordinary writer. So I didn’t know what to expect.
Turns out I didn’t need to worry because my nerves came lose as soon as we started talking.
No, as soon as we locked eyes and he smiled.
Ouch my heart! That smile. That smile. That smile.
It was easy speaking with Leo. I enjoyed every bit of our back and forth.
I was taken by his intellect and manner of speaking.
The latter can best be described as…painfully kind.
The kind of kind that carries a depth of warm respect, a warmth that spreads to your stomach and back to your cheeks, so that you simply…glow. And glow some more.
The kind of kind that makes you wonder how someone manages to remain untainted by the pervasive negatives of this world.
Almost like a newborn: a kind innocence. An innocent kindness.
I couldn’t help but wonder: ‘Is he real?’ My fascination for this man grew even more.
The kind of kind that makes you feel…safe and cocooned.
Like a good night sleep under a warm duvet on a cold night.
“Are you a virgin?” he asked.
Continues next week!
Like most children, I was very curious. I questioned everything and didn’t stop until I got answers. Satisfactory answers. That also meant I was foolish and impulsive; like when I ‘questioned’ how adults defecated (did it come through the same hole as mine? Was it sometimes painful too?) and played ‘investigator’ by peeping through a crevice in the toilet door while Uncle Sam, who had come visiting, was using it.
It’s funny how I plan to laugh
And smile, do random things
When I am sure it is still there
Madness and fury consume me
Heartache and memories trap me
Revenge and envy entice me
And yet smiles are smiled and laughter booms
It may take a day, week, month or year or a century
Never may I get rid of the memory
Cursing and riding each day with a faint remembrance of things past
Bit of life here and there
Rain and sun, wet and dry
Cold and heat, winter and summer
But I know
Oh I know
It will tire when I don’t give in
It will realize what’s in me, what’s with me
It will find life not death
It will clear and release its hold on me
And I will be free!
#musingsofacrazymedic
Before the sun hits the sky
Before the night gives way to day
And morning chases the night away
Come back to me dear one,
Come back to me
Return to the heart that desires you
To be all you can be
Untouch the cactus, that which stings
Relish the warmth within me
The one existing just for you
Revel in my love, its gratifying abundance
Return to me loved one
Heed my call
Return to my arms
Allow me to lead you
Return to my waiting arms
They will never grow cold
They will never tire out
They are here
Always and Forever
@Hailey moghalu #musingsofacrazymedic
This is for you, who has always been there, who has given me a chance to entertain them, to take away their boredom and fill their lives with happy laughter. For all the encouragement to ‘write-on’, I am very grateful
Whomever you are to me
thank you for giving me a reason to say, iammyfuture!
In more ways than one
It has been uttered
In pain and tears
In resolves and reconciliation
In abandonment and rejection
Dashed hopes are regained
Broken hearts are mended
Entertainment-hungry hearts are satisfied
Broken promises are livened
I am sorry
In more ways than you can imagine
I am sorry
That unlike ‘We are here for all of us’
I was not here for you
I am sorry
That there’s has been no sequel to ‘he-factor’, yet
I am sorry
That for three months and seven days
I have deprived you of iammyfuture
As if I or you weren’t the future
I am sorry
Because
I am sorry
I will be posting the series of mesmerizing poems of a rising star, Hailey. It is is inarguably one of the best I have had the pleasure of reading in awhile. Tomorrow!
We visited the Adigun’s.
To Ben, it was just another doctor-patient congratulatory visit.
It was a delight to accompany him as I hadn’t socialized in a while.
In the end, it turned out to be with an ‘eye-opener’ of sorts.
Georgia talked about Post-partum depression, how she almost got ‘infected’ by another then-pregnant woman but ‘rejected’ it. I couldn’t help chuckling: ‘infected’ as if it were communicable. And rejected? I pinched myself to ‘ingest’ my laughter.
Ben got into the ‘mood’ and ‘juiced’ out all he knew about the disorder. I get upset when he does that: revolve everything around his profession. I wondered if Georgia felt the same.
As they chatted away, BJ and I cocooned ourselves in another world.
As I cradled him in my arms, I thought about nothing else but his serene gentility. His eyelashes were a mini-version of his dark silky hair. Here in my arms was this fragile thing metamorphosing into something unknown.
He smelt new: fresh, clean, untainted and perfect. If he were a piece of cake, only grains of flour would’ve remained of him.
I didn’t want to touch his skin with my fingers, I thought it sinful. Like he’ll get sick ‘rejecting’ the ‘infection’ from my ‘germified’ fingers.
‘It is okay to touch him’ Ben said, ‘you transfer microbes that fight infections and diseases’.
Wasn’t he just speaking with Georgia? What’s with doctors and aproko?
…’his sense of touch is ‘trained’ too’.
‘Really?’ that was Georgia. The instant I heard that, I knew it was a mistake.
It was all Ben needed to lecture her on the importance of tactile communication between mother and child and what not.
I ‘tuned’ him off and focused on BJ, enjoying the warmth our bodies emitted for one another.
I hummed an ‘I love you’ lullaby to him, my croon so low I couldn’t even hear myself. BJ must have enjoyed it because his eyes graced me like I was a piece of creamy chocolate.
More lectures and some minutes later, we were on our way home. I was reluctant to let go of BJ because I wanted to, no needed to solidify the bond we just created.
Georgia said I could come by anytime to ‘touch’ him. I gleefully accepted the offer.
We rode across Okene bridge, the persistent chant of industrious hawkers mingling with Ben’s favorite track: Alicia Keys’ ‘We are here for all of us’.
‘Aunty, buy Gala na only #50 o!,(*music*we-are-here-for-all-of-us) Oga, buy for your wife, na only #50′(we-are-for-all-of-us)(oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh…)
Money changed hands and I savored the tasty snack alone as Ben feigned dis-interest. As my teeth churned at the snack, I started thinking about BJ again.
How much he needed external forces to survive: shelter, food, touch… the same way I needed this snack to satisfy my hunger, the same way Ben re-filled the car tank at a petrol station, same way we needed Efrebo to open the gate as we drove into our home. Then it hit me!
We really are products of environment. Everything we are comes from without.
Our deepest emotions, our thoughts, desires, personality, diction, dress sense, etc are influenced by what we see, hear, perceive, smell and feel.
As simple as that analysis sounds, it is also complex.
Know why?
Because humanity is confused. Everyday, we are bombarded with quotes, movies, songs, poems, comics, books and photos throwing bouquets at individuality, independent-thinking, self-expression, self-praise, self-everything.
We are often told how special we are(some parents are not as generous though), how grateful the world must be to have us and all.
If you as much as hint otherwise, you become the Enemy. Heck, the handles on Twitter will ‘handle’ you, and send you packing!
While I am not of the mediocre-be-like-your-mates school of thought, I am certainly not overjoyed with the noise made for narcissism and me-ism. It is NOT all about ME! We NEED people to survive: an indisputable fact of nature.
Doesn’t Facebook exists because Zuckerberg copied Barners-Lee’s HTML codes to creates web pages?
‘But I invented the light bulb’, cried Thomas Edison. But, Alessandro Volta’s glowing wire was what you built upon, I reply. You only refined it with carbon, a few other things and yipppeee…there is light!
But, people love duplicacy, some argue: they hate what is, on their terms, not ‘normal’. So that in more ways than one, they shove you into their ‘machine’, mold you and ‘jubilate’ at their just finished tear-rubber product.
Still, we need those people to be ourselves. Foolish dancing to no music eh? I mean, why should I be myself when I alone exist?
You get my drift right? We need people to be different, to be what we want to be.
There’s got to be a balance so that we do not become either of the extremes: confirmed narcissists or blind copyists.
My take? We are created to be interdependent of one another.
BJ needs his mom and I as much we need him. So does the gala man and Efrebo and Ben…and you.
iammyfuture 