How have you been Ifedolapo? I’m okay. But if you really ask me, I’d say: Lately I have struggled with anxiety. Anxiety capable of crippling my productivity. The past few weeks I have experienced an increasing urge to scurry into a hole where no one will have access to me. One I could come out of when I’m ready to face the world again. But we live in a fast paced world that requires me to keep up. So what I have been doing so far is to just keep showing until I just can't. In that, I find that I've expanded the existing limit I've placed on myself but at each of those instances I risk breaking, myself, surpassing my elastic limit. When I say the only reason I've been able to make it this far in one piece is based on the goodness of God some might think it cliche to say in times like this. But that is the plain truth because if God hasn't been showing and shining through me, only Him knows where I will be right now. That's it for now. How have you been? Ifedo
“What is wrong with you” “Talk to us” The number of times I was asked that question In five minutes Did no good. It jolted to life Memories suppressed for years As far back as 60 calendar months. The first distinct memory Was my first night in Aunty’s house. I remember waking up scared Because I was alone. And coughing From the neighbor’s blue tiger generator exhaust seeping into the only window of the room. It’s no surprise I’d wake under such conditions It wasn’t the familiar, clean, crisp, cool air And quiet night I had grown accustomed to From living most of my life in my mother’s town. It was different. It was loud, hot, smoky and choking. What I thought was to be a night of visit Became 365 nights 365 nights to 740 nights 740 nights to 1105 nights And 8 visits from those who left me there in the first place. The second memory that came to me Was the one that haunted me the most The secret in my cupboard. Ifedolapo