Me. And then Some.

It has been a long 12 hours, and you are looking forward to relaxing in the silence and solitude of your apartment. There is something grossly understated about one's space after a long day dealing with other human beings, yet still putting up your best smile when really all you want to do is rip them a new one.
*twinkling smile*
So that moment when you unlock your door, and out of sheer exhaustion, you sit on the floor at the hallway entrance and just take in the silence.
Allowing it to wash over you and soak into your very core.
Silence.
Solitude.

What some of us thrive on.
Living alone is highly underrated.
Why would anyone want to give it up?

As you make your way through your space,
turning off your phone for the rest of the night,
you anticipate snuggling into your bed.
Nothing like a quiet apartment with a warm bed and tons of pillows.

Hot shower, check.
 Lights off, phone off.
It is time to call it a night.
Albeit early, but your body needs it.

Just as you begin to drift off you say a prayer..and then you are off.
Trailblazing the way to dreamland.


But then...4 hours later you wake up with a scream.
No it wasn't a dream.
You cant move your legs.
Your toes appear to be cramped, and the pain is shooting up all the way into your thighs.
Thrashing around in pain, what are you going to do?
Your left leg hurts like it is about to fall off.
You try massaging it maybe the cramping will stop,
but every time you touch it, the pain worsens.
Your phone is off in the other room.
But who would you call at 3am?
What would they do?
Your life just flashed right before your eyes.
Is this it?


And that is when you start to cry...

Captured by your fears,
and [tortured] by your insecurities.
Constant wants and wishes and if onlys 
threatening to un-validate your current reality.

But the truth is, these wishes and wants and if onlys are not horses, 
and beggars and not riding. 
But still.
Amidst your apparent lack, 
and doubts and drowning disappointments, 
you are okay.

Because even when nothing is going okay, 
everything is still...okay.
Food shelter and internet, you do not lack.
Love, mercy and grace are... new every morning.

He is unfailingly faithful in giving you your daily bread.

So why then...is your heart heavy?



Fabulo-la

Or unproudly Nigerian.
Really who cares?
Can I just get through my day?
Without being dogged by the mob
for not being "Nigerian" enough?

Proudly Nigerian, or unproudly Nigerian?
Again, what is your point here?
I don't see you 
taking a page out of your book
to selflessly serve your country.

Oh? No?
Discussing the country's problems, over
trendy over-priced drinks in the most recent over-hyped bar
that claims 'exclusivity' with zero to nil parking,  suits you better eh?
I'm getting you.

Or wait let me guess,
 as long as you can fly out
every three weeks to your 
other home, flashing your 
other colored passport
just to 'get away' from it all,
*flicks hair*
you are living the Nigerian dream eh?
Indeed.

Or would it be the occasional 'charity' event
to convince us all, of the desperate love
that your heart bleeds for the country?
Right.

Proudly Nigerian
or unproudly Nigerian.
I came, I saw, I didn't conquer.
Now can I just get through 
my already-hard-to-navigate-life
filled with the persistent frustrations of surviving in this area code,
without your hypocritical ass
getting in my way?

Thanks.
Have a nice life.


Proudly Nigerian. Still.


xxx
Fabulo-la

The heart wants what the heart wants.
But the heart, desperately wicked, seeks its own will.
Its own will to love and be loved.
Longing for a moment, a touch, a forever.

Let not your longing slay your appetite for living.

For in living is to love, to give of yourself wholly, and completely.

And in the living find love.
Not as the heart seeks, but as He wills it.

Let not your longing slay your appetite for living.



xxx
Fabulo-la

I tried to kill the pain
But it only brought more.
In the end, does it even matter?

My wounds cry for the grave
My soul cries for deliverance
But I only feel cold steel.
We were born to die, weren't we?

I spin the cylinder and wonder,
Will you be on the other side?
Or will you forget me?

Either way its time to bleed it out
And cross this divide.
I place the barrel against my temple
And take my last breath.

I feel a cold rush of blood to my head
As I pull the .....





Fabulo-la

Sent from my CrackBerry® device.