Tag Archives: Love

Mine (1)

So we decided to visit Atlanta. Strange how I have to go through this city to get to school, but I’ve never really been to it. It’s actually pretty decent…I mean, not bad for a city. But too much ratchetness, and quite frankly, I ain’t about that life. (lol…that sounds so ratchet! =D ) Anyway, so here we are in Atlanta, Yvonne and I; two college students taking a break from the busy student life. I’m Stacy by the way 😀

Being the mildly egocentric individual that I am, I had persuaded Yvonne that we had to stay in one of those $150/night hotels. She had looked at me and laughed, until she realized I was being serious. She suspected that I had something up my sleeves, as I was never really the type to spend so much money on a hotel room. I said even if it’s just for two nights, then we can be able to tour the city during the day. Thinking I wouldn’t follow through with the plan, Yvonne agreed to it. That look on her face when I brought out my card to pay for both nights! =D We got up really early the next morning, and began our pre-booked tour of the city. We visited the CNN Center, the World of Coca Cola, the Georgia Dome, Aquarium, we went to the High Museum, and ended up dining at some fancy restaurant a few blocks from our hotel. But it didn’t happen that fast…

We had indeed spent the day touring the city, taking pictures, flirting with some, ignoring others, and the day had been terrific! We arrived at our hotel at about 6:00pm, and we were starving! Yvonne had said we should stop by the hotel restaurant, but I had insisted we go some other place fancy, after all, this was probably our last night in Atlanta. Reluctantly, she had agreed. We spent the next hour showering, and putting on makeup for the night (my idea). I was about to get into my dress when I heard a knock on the door. No one requested room service… The hotel staff at the door suddenly had his tongue tied, tugging at his bow tie as if it was on too tight. “What’s this?” I asked again. “It’s a uh um…it’s uh umm uh uhhh…de uhhh for uhh” and then finally, “you.” I took the box from him, and picked up the $20 bill lying on the table, and handed it to him. He couldn’t even say thank you, it was like he went into shock or something.

I closed the door behind me. “What was that about?” Yvonne called from the dresser. “Apparently, I have a package,” I wasn’t exactly sure myself. “Well, did you order anything? Did you ask the boy who it was from? Cos it could have been sent in error you know.” I sat on the bed, still staring at the box, “well, I guess. The boy looked really distressed, he could barely speak.” Yvonne laughed, “and I wouldn’t suppose that had anything to do with the fact that you had no clothes on.” “Don’t you raise your eyebrow at me,” I hissed, “he knocked on the door at the wrong time.” Yvonne just laughed and shook her head, “so typical of you. Well open it.”

I opened the box, and it was the most gorgeous sweetheart cut dress ever. It was covered in black sequins, and it looked so elegant! Yvonne and I stared straight at each other as our jaws dropped. There was a note in it: “I had guessed you’d be a size zero when I first saw you. Hope I’m right -David.” My heart was on some fast and furious ish!!!! Who on God’s green earth was David? I hadn’t met any David throughout my time here, this was room 520, I was a size zero, and the only size zero in the room for that matter. I turned to the other side of the note, it had an address, and a table number scribbled on it. It was the restaurant down the street. I was scared, but excited at the same time. It could have been some serial rapist or murderer, but the mystery was just too sensual. I mean, he didn’t even have to hide his name; whoever this guy was, his mystery game was 100% yo!

The dress was perfect! And I couldn’t get over the fact that it was such a luxurious black. I rummaged through my luggage for my strappy heels and purse. Well, I guess it’s an all-black night tonight then. Fragrance, finishing touches, and within 10 minutes, we were seated at the fancy Italian restaurant down the road. Turns out we needed reservations to get in, and who knew we already had reservations; Table 3.

It was set for just two, and the person who made the reservation wasn’t going to be joining us, so it was just for Yvonne and I. I was uneasy throughout the entire dinner, but struggled to maintain my calm, and composed air. Then it happened…

Reasons

That feeling of joyful anticipation; opening up the presents on your birthday or at Christmas, hoping to find your first Rolex, your first phone, your first game console…

That rush of unexplainable delight; your first paycheck, your first million, your first concert, your first date, your first kiss…

That unbelievable experience; your first flight, your first bungee jump, your first time in a pool, your first day at school, your first crush, your first love, your first heartbreak…

That mind-blowing and awe-filled day; your wedding day, the day your first child is born, the day your son takes his first steps, the day your daughter utters her first words…

That moment that simply causes your heart to begin racing faster than Lewis Hamilton in a Grand Prix; the day he goes on one knee, the moment she says I do, your wedding night…

 

And through all the moments and even all the “firsts” to come, there those unforgettable people who will always be there;

The souls who inspire, motivate and challenge you daily in one way or the other…

Those who have stayed and will stay through the good times and through the impossible times…  

 Your family, your best friends and those loved ones who couldn’t make it to the party physically, but are there in spirit.

These are the heartbeat and pulse of the party that is life and the very reasons for which I am eternally grateful to God…   

My Big Fat Wedding

My Big Fat Wedding

I dream of a ginormous wedding! One that will linger in the memory of humanity for generations to come. In attendance will be Heads of States and their sons who could kill just to be in the groom’s shoes! There will be Princes of nations, all my former suitors, dressed in the most expensive outfits, trying desperately to hide the envy in their eyes.  Of course, my Russian and German billionaire friends will also be in attendance. The Queen will grace this event of a lifetime with her esteemed presence. My family and my dearest friends who to me are worth more than the guest list will be there. They will cry, laugh and be happy for me.

I will walk out in the most beautiful white gown ever and the world will be stunned! The white will be as white as snow. Not white because of the beauty and elegance of the color, but white because I understand and have kept the truth in the symbolism of the color. My husband to be will be red with pride and joy. We will be married and the whole world will wish us the best.

Then we will begin to live as a family. The first few months will be the best of our lives. Then the baby will come and we will think to ourselves, “It doesn’t get better than this”. My son will be a prince; a beautiful man. I will feel sorry for the ladies of the world, for he will break a million hearts. The care of our new baby will be demanding, but we will try to survive. Eventually, I will have to go back to work, so I will have maids and a nanny for my son.

Then my son will ask for a baby sister, someone he can protect and we will give him one. Then things will take a bitter turn. An unforeseen event will send the finances crashing. Secrets will begin to surface. My perfect husband will turn out to be not so perfect. We will fight and argue and hate ourselves. And guess who will bear the burden of our difficulties…our precious little angels.

And my daughter will grow up harboring a certain resentment towards me because it seems I wasn’t always there for her. But I won’t get this message because in my own eyes, I have given everything for her and my son. And my son will grow up without his father by his side as a model figure because I would have pushed his father away with my eternal demands.

And then I will realize that my precious family has been torn to pieces. Then I will begin to regret and rue the day….

Then I will try to pick up the pieces and start over again, but the hurt and the pain over the years will continue to hang as a heavy scent in the air. I will push and try my best, to heal the wounds we have sustained.

I will learn to love the father of my children again and venture to gain the trust of my children again.

But the damage done will be too great and all I will be able to do will be mere patchwork. Then the children will leave home and go to settle far, far away. They will be very successful, but my daughter will blatantly refuse to get married.

And I will fight with my husband again and blame him for being the incompetence that my daughter has seen in the male race. And we will become bitter and spiteful towards ourselves. And my daughter will get to know and for the first time in 15 years, she will travel home to meet us.

We will be very surprised by her visit and even more surprised by what she has come to tell us.

She will be expecting a baby for a man she is not married to and has no intentions to marry. I will breakdown into tears and my husband will try to be the voice of reason. I will talk him down and accuse him of being the reason why my daughter has disbanded the idea of marriage.

With all the sadness imaginable in her eyes, my daughter will look at me and say, “Wrong mother. I just don’t want to risk being even half the wife that you were to my father”. Like an icy dagger to my heart, her words will be the last I hear in this world. They will be so heavy that my heart will break and right there and then, I will fall into an eternal sleep. And my daughter will look upon my body, not sure what emotions she is meant to show or how she is meant to feel. And my husband will look at me will all the love in his eyes, yet, a faint sigh of relief will he heave.

Now I ask myself, so what is the point? But I realize that I am too afraid that I won’t live through the stigmatization that comes from being alone. So afraid that I am willing to make the lives of innocent people a living hell rather than be alone.

In essence, I will still have my big fat wedding, hoping and praying that somehow, I will be happy in the end.

I apologize to no one for the way I feel…I guess life just has its own way of ensuring that you’re messed up somehow…

Have a lovely day…xx

 

Tears (The Poem)

All was once perfect,

All was once beautiful,

All was once exact,

Or was it all a facade?

 

Love was once true

So true and so pure

Art by the greatest maestro

 

Faith, trust, devotion

You gave without restriction

But hate, contempt and deceit

Was all you gained in return

 

Your love betrayed,

All you had, forsaken

 

And at the end of it all,

Only your memories survive,

Marked by the scars you have

And the tears that you have shed

My Admission…

It’s a tiny bird,
A tiny spark,
A tiny twitch,
Unnoticed at best.

It’s ignorable at first,
Then like an electric shock, it awakens something in you
Like venom, it spreads round your mind at lightning speed
It feels like a delusion; you begin to notice things you normally would not have

It drives you crazy,
It makes you feel great,
It opens up your entire soul,
It rudely rids you of your affected air and pride

You hate it,
You love it,
Then you hate it some more
But you end up loving it the more

We have all had our fair shares of bad experiences,
But the truth goes without saying,
Love was never meant to be glitch free,
But definitely worth all the trouble you go through

After all, for God so loved the world that He sent His only begotten Son to redeem us by giving his life for ours

Love gives, without asking, and never stops giving
Even when the recipient seems like a lost cause
Many of us are witness to that…

Have a beautiful day! ♡

Epic Moments…

Running the broom across the surface of the floor, in swift, calculated movements, my job is to get the room clean. Guided by the movements of the broom, my mind begins to sway in different directions. Oblivious of all around me, my mind progresses; deeper. I get lost in thought, questioning whether it is morally wrong not to mop a room after cleaning. There is a feisty debate in my mind, between the me who wants to go curl up in bed and…well, what seems to be my conscience.

My conscience. I know I have a conscience, I’ve just never particularly heard my conscience (emphasis on the heard). I mean, I’ve always thought of myself to be this kind of ‘just do it’ person. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not bad or rash or irrational, I’ve just never given much thought to the speaking part of my conscience. It’s like I share a telepathic connection with my conscience, so I know what he’s saying or thinking without him having to speak. Yes, my conscience is a guy. I don’t know if you understand what I’m trying to say.

It’s a wonder how people understand me at times cos I just feel I make little to no sense. Sometimes, when I speak, I don’t even understand myself; I sound like disjointed chords in my ears. It hurts to feel so misunderstood and I usually end up crying.

I’ve been told not to cry so often, they say it’s not good for me. Maybe it’s some sign of “weakness” or “emotional immaturity”, but quite frankly, no, I do not care. On a more serious note though, you can’t expect me to cry when I feel excruciating pain. Or should I laugh when my pet dies? I’m not Ife.

Ife is my best friend; sweet, little child :’) LIESSSSSSSS!!!!!! She’s a wolf (alpha male by the way) in baby wolf’s clothing. She’s nice to me sometimes though…and she’s pretty 😀 I think ( ._.) Well, she’s my best friend and not yours 😛 and yes, I love her as a mother can love her own child. Jelly beans 😛 (jelly= jealous, beans= all of you) Basically, Ife is my sister, my child, my friend, my other mother; she’s family.

My family…God’s greatest gift to me, after His son of course. I’m looking to expand now however, so I’m sending letters and gifts to Grandpa Biden (American Vice President) and Grandpa Netanyahu (Israeli Prime Minister). Membership is strictly by prestigious invitation only, so please feel bad 😛 There’s one problem…I don’t know what gifts to send along with the letters.

I don’t even know what gift to get Ife. Her birthday is tomorrow ^.^ and my sources have confirmed that she has gotten me a cake :’) *dance party* (you see why I love my best friend now?) Tomorrow’s so close and still nothing though -_-

I just remembered this one time in schoolwhen we were meant to fill out this register. We were required to provide our birth dates and I made her write 10th instead of 9th by merely talking to her and convincing her that 10th was the right date. I had a field day! Looooooool!!!! Buahahahaha!!! She didn’t realise what I had done until the register was gone, then SNAP! Hehehe…mind games.

That’s why I love Patrick Jane. Yes, The Mentalist. I looooovvvvvveeeeee The Mentalist!

I love NCIS, CSI, Rookie Blue, Suits, Law and Order and Haven. I watched King and Maxwell once, loved it too. Hawaii-Five-O, Nikiita; love iiiit! Crime, action, the guys :$ the undercover romance, SWEEEEEEET!

I watch TV quite a lot. Although I can do without it easily, I still love TV. I usually get a lot of inspiration from what I watch on TV and you’d be amazed how much you can actually learn from TV. I also like the Crime Channel, but it spooks me out a whole lot!!! Good griefs! That’s real stuff that happens! Pretty gruesome and creepy, but super exciting! Spooky though 😦 Mummy laughs at me… :$ she says I talk too much too :$ and she said I like to famz her…yes, she actually used the word ‘famz’ -_-

I just love my mummy… :’) :$ :*****

Oh…I’ve started mopping already?

And that was how my mind continued to digress until my conscience won the debate by default…

Don’t bother, there’s no head and tail to this story, so give your brains a rest. You just witnessed the power of digression…it causes you to mop without thinking -_-

And quite honestly, this is the way most of our conversations go…the digressions are always epic!!!

 

 

Tranquil (Part 8- FINALE)

8.

“Emeka is dead”, she emphasized for utmost clarity.

I froze, staring at her in disbelief. I could tell almost exactly how it had played out.

“How did you do it?” I asked, knowing already that she had done it.

“Poison”, she said, “I watched as he begged for his life. He was weak and pathetic. I hated him and even more his seed that I am carrying.”

She sat beside me and examined my scars. She wept bitterly. She was sorry, but she knew that sorry wasn’t going to be enough.

“It’s not alive”, she said.

“What’s not alive?”

“The child died two days ago, and it was impossible for it to be removed. They tried all they could, but to no avail. The dead child has refused to come out. So just as you said Onyeka, the bastard hates me and wants me dead.”

I looked at her swollen tummy and I cried for her; I finally cried with my sister. I held her close and told her she wouldn’t go alone.

I promised to go with her.

That night, we lay in bed together, recounting the good old days when we were young and happy; before life robbed us of all our innocence.

“Onyeka, what will you miss most?” she asked.

I knew my answer straightaway.

“The calm and newness after the rain”, I said.

“Me too”, she said.

I would miss the peace, the serenity, the sudden calm after the heavy roaring of the thunder, raging of the lightning and the mighty downpour of the rain. I would miss the rains.

But as the blood dripped from our wrists that night, a new kind of peace began to dawn on me.

“I will miss Chike” she said.

“Chike. I will miss Chike as well. He will never forgive us, but someday, I hope he will understand.”

And with that, I kissed my sister goodbye and set to concentrate on the new feeling that was overtaking my body.

Tranquil.

Happy Independence Day Nigeria…

The tears pour out of my eyes uncontrollably. Nigeria at 53 let us celebrate. But what, I ask, is there to celebrate?

I’m not a sadist or a pessimist of any sort and if you may think of me in that line, or are uncomfortable with my honesty, please go and shoot yourself or something.

Nigeria is 53; celebrate. BULLSHIT!

The families of those students who were killed in Yobe yesterday should celebrate what exactly please? A country that cannot protect its own citizenry?

Oh yes! Let them celebrate how their sons were murdered, some as they slept, by some disillusioned psychopaths.

Let them celebrate a country that cannot keep its citizenry gainfully occupied, either in school or with work, thus creating an army of foot soldiers for terrorist groups.

Yes! Let us celebrate the 40 soldiers who were killed in that ambush and the 60 who are still unaccounted for.

Let us celebrate the innocent keke riders who were brutally murdered by the army. Or maybe indeed Boko Haram operatives will actually choose a place as conspicuous as an uncompleted building as an abode.

Let us celebrate all the souls that are lost everyday up North, while that sad, good for nothing, pathetic and unfortunate joke of a government sits in Aso Rock, improving their retardation skills daily.

Let us celebrate the million and one exceptionally creative and talented minds that are on the streets untapped.

Let us celebrate all the graduates and able bodied individuals who are on the streets homeless, jobless, almost lifeless. Let us celebrate the hopelessness and misfortune they grovel in and their eventual decision to turn to vices of all sorts. Because I tell you as a matter of fact, some of those agberos were once geniuses in their classes.

Let us celebrate the clueless leaders we have; the handicapped never do wells allowing themselves to be led by other blind and brainless entities. Let us celebrate how they continue to lie to the world that Nigeria is fine, meanwhile, the North has become mini Syria.

Let us celebrate “President” Jonathan, who had the audacity to tell Kenyatta that Nigeria would support Kenya with whatever it needs to combat terrorism. We’re that good isn’t it? We’re so good that the Boko Haram leader, Shekau shamed our entire government, parading them as the fools they really are.

Let us celebrate the students who have been at home since July, because the government is too consumed with asininity, greed and a life threatening case of myopia that they cannot even process what a lack of proper education does to any society. Forgive me for trying to assume that the government has the capacity to even think.

Let us celebrate the lawlessness, wickedness and hostility that are more than rampant among us today. Let us celebrate all the bitterness, resentment and animosity we harbor in our hearts towards one another.

Let us celebrate all the “big men” who think they own the world and as such, choose to oppress the “commoners” who have no place in society.

Let us celebrate our 70% poverty rate which the government seems to be indifferent about, while we watch as Hong Kong is thinking up ways to drastically reduce theirs of 20%.

Let us celebrate our non-existent youth leaders; at least that’s how our leaders view it, and frankly, I cannot totally disagree with them.

Let us celebrate all the mothers of tomorrow who are steadily ruining their lives and families now. Let us celebrate all the families of tomorrow that will be without fathers. Let us celebrate all the marriages that will never just work out. Let us celebrate our misguided, lost and unfortunate generation.

Let us celebrate all those who have died in vain; all our dearly beloved martyrs who died thinking they were paving the way to a better Nigeria. And look how we have all just defecated on that nicely paved road.

Let us celebrate all the injustice in Nigeria; all those who have been killed wrongly and all those who will still be killed for no just cause. Let us celebrate a justice system that cannot, as in does not have the capacity to serve justice. Let us celebrate the Aluu 4 whose families may never see justice served.

Let us celebrate every dream that has been crushed and thwarted, every flicker of hope that has been put out and every fire of passion, enthusiasm, zeal and patriotism that has been completely extinguished…

I plan to wear all black tomorrow and mourn my lost country…

I see a bright future, but on a day that is meant to be a celebration of freedom from colonial rule, why can I only see more oppression all around?

We freed ourselves from colonial rule only to willingly enter into the bondage of our own selfishness, greed and hate.

I won’t lie; I will say it as it is. I don’t care who reads this or what impression this gives the world about my country. I quit lying and fooling myself like the rest of you.

I weep for my selfishness, wickedness. I cry because I am inconsiderate, intolerable and rash. I wail because I want to learn patience, love, honesty and hard work, but I am surrounded by a consuming negativity. I mourn for we have all gone astray. We pledged to service, duty and love, but we have only succeeded in killing ourselves, ruining our lives and cursing ourselves.

Nigeria at 53; I mourn my country…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yobe: A state in Northern Nigeria.

Aso Rock: the seat of power in Nigeria.

Boko Haram: a terrorist group in Nigeria with links to Al-Qaeda.

Keke: a tricycle.

Agbero: a tout or hooligan who constitutes a nuisance in society. “Agberos” is the colloquial plural.

Aluu: a community in Rivers state, Nigeria where four University of Port-Harcourt students were beaten to death and then burnt alive by the town’s people for a crime they did not commit. It was the most horrific scene ever. I cried for days unend and lost my ability to sleep.

Unfaithful

The sun had scorched, the drought was etched
Deep within, upon the surface of my core
Desert, my land was dry and parched
Deprived of drops, let alone a downpour

I cried for days unend, oh spirits hear my plea
But all in vain it seemed, on deaf ears they fell
Resilient and armed with hope, I’d simply just watch and see
And rain would arrive to quench, and put out this heat of hell

My prayers were heard; at last I did rejoice
The rain had come to cleanse, the land and to repair,
Restore, renew my lush green; yes, this had been my choice
My love, the rain had returned, it’s beauty colored the air

It poured, unwilling to stop; a good thing I had thought
But soon they came with tales; restriction, disruption, destruction!
Detractors, I screamed in pain; to ruin a love for which I fought
But soon my love grew wild, oblivious of all instruction

I begged for it to stop, we all needed a calm
But rage the more it did, eroding my precious land
Was this not still my love, for whom I composed a Psalm?
No, this was just a monster, to ruin my prize so grand

I hated the rain, I cursed it in spite
I wanted it to leave, to cease at all cost
A break of any sort, we needed indeed some respite
To heal from our wounds, and take into account all we had lost

It did as we had asked, subsiding as was bid
The sun then shone on us and thankful we all were
But quickly on us it poured, the anger which it hid
For rejecting it before, it vowed to strip us bare

We called for rain again, but this time twas a no
Unfaithful lovers, it called us; it planned to teach compromise
But all we did was fight, and push the sun to go
Yet rain did not return, and drought was left to rise…