It’s more likely that by this time next year my thighs would be a lot thicker than it is now just like I had thought to myself a year before now. More likely that I would have picked up new hobbies, read a few more good books, lavished my knuckles in new recipes and my tongue with more words that bless and curse me. I’ll become my habits both good and bad, I’ll learn, talk, laugh, cry, write and wake up every morning on my stomach just like these past months that ran from being written of.
Sometimes, I have these moments where I think about tomorrow, moments I’ll choose to tweet my exact thoughts out loud to read them over the next day. I think 20 something year olds of today call it “adulting”. We have blatantly refused to think about ourselves as “growing” or “nurturing”, we pride in our little achievements to caress our egos and pat our heavy backs.
One too many times I’ve littered fear on what I felt couldn’t be erased, I’ve chosen family again and again over friends and whatever else. I’ve gripped the bones of my brothers harder than I’ve ever had to gnash my teeth. I’ve lost myself in all those chaoses and tbh the feeling can’t be expressed totally even in my mother tongue, just like the feeling of explaining daylight to a blind man.
“..these past months that ran from being written of”. I couldn’t find closure with myself or those that hurt me. I live everyday believing that the heart still pumps anyway not withstanding the rate it chooses to beat at. I live everyday like I don’t want to be lost in other people’s tag and dirt, of course with that comes changes and growth. These past few months I ran from writing on being cheated on, running away from home, getting into a fist fight with my elder sister and quitting my very first job here in Nigeria. I ran from talking to others about my life. I derived pleasure and joy from listening to others, listening to good music, minding my business of course and sharing interesting things and places to others. I didn’t find closure and every now and then my hands hurt, my tongue refrains, my legs run to share other people’s stories and encounters. It’s beginning to fade leaving me at the cusp of breathlessness.
I cooked a meal I found on an Instagram page today and it tasted like meekness. I chased a wall gecko from my kitchen to the veranda and thought of working out tomorrow, which I will definitely engage in. I dismantled my camera and stuffed it in my little rainbow-coloured suitcase, picked my journal and began writing. I thought closure was in crying things off and moving on but it isn’t. Closure is in pouring out words with patience to whatever or whoever you think may feel like ears.
There’s a rumoured escape, one that didn’t lie about me looking for air..
Dyna Ekwueme Copyright 2018
Picture gotten from- Pinterest