So,you walk up to this beautiful girl you’ve always wished to have as your own. Your hopes soar high, probably higher than Mount Kilimanjaro and your morale is braced on all sides,’it’s sure going to be the day’, you think. In a twinkle, you’re so done with the preliminaries and then…end with ‘I love you, tok ya own’,lol. She smiles, pretending to be processing the imputed information in her brain. To ease off the tension a little, she nibbles at your moderate composition on the table and coldly says ‘you are broke bro, I can’t date broke guys’.
The words hit you as fast as they came, ringing a million times like grandpa’s clock. You feel unclad and bruised like a virgin whose innocence has just been forcefully taken. Your spirit jumps out and into you again; you’ve just been molested. Simultaneously, you feel tempted to act silly: hit her or yell at her to stop eating the moderate composition on the table–it’s your brokenness that arranged it after all. Then you remember you’re a gentleman, you can’t possibly do all that. So, you just sit there smiling sheepishly, fighting real hard to keep those tears lined up behind your cornea and wishing the day was over.
At home, you just want to be alone to bear the burden your simple likeness (for a girl) has placed on you. Thoughts of the lives and times of your dead ancestors are relived in your head; you try to find a basis for your brokenness but you find none. What you see are your prospects! Suddenly, there’s moisture on your cheeks and you just realized that you were crying all the while.
Author: Yami Bamgboye
Profile: He’s a graduate of English language from Lagos State University