this is about us. the layers we come in. how after a couple months. depending on closeness or comfort. we shed. revealing skin. soft like cotton candy. skin. rough to touch. and as the days hum into months. we unravel. layer after layer. slowly. quickly. slow ly. then it stops. and we are down to slivers. it ends. and we are naked. so we begin a journey back to old places. picking up. and putting on. again and again. buckling and smoothening. only to take them off for someone new.


Journal Entry #1: On feeling like you are missing out

(I am starting a series of posts called Journal Entry. These will be excerpts of the things I write in my journal on a variety of topics 🙂 )

I really want to live the best life possible. In fact, I am consumed with the idea of it. I want to do things that matter, things that I love, things that make me happy. I want to learn, grow and have experiences but lately I always feel like I am missing out.

Here’s a thing: Strive to live as much as you can. Try things. Do things. I cannot promise that you will not be missing out on things but let me tell you, things and people will be missing out on you too. Don’t get jealous or envious. You have your own collection of experiences. Remember this is your journey. Focus on it. Don’t compare it to anyone else’s. As long as you are doing the best you can to make everyday count, you are fine. You will not be missing out on anything that is meant for you. You are brilliant and beautiful and you are doing so well already.


If i marry a writer

“I never thought about how magnificent it would be to date and maybe eventually marry someone who writes, until now. It is so strange that in all my years of answering the question “what kind of guy would you like to date?”, I never imagined him being a writer. I never imagined the love of my life being as in love with poetry and art like i am. I feel like i just had an epiphany.

I would very much love to date/marry a man who is in touch with his creative side when it comes to art. A man who appreciates literature and listens to spoken word . A man who spends his evenings beside the fire or out by the waters, nose buried in a book. A man who will join me in my mission to build a beautiful glorious library in our home. A man who keeps a journal and write tirelessly about anything; our life, our future, our kitchen, our now.

I imagine, he would complete some of my poems and i would practice performing them with him. He will find poetry in the lines on my palm, prose in the curve of my hips and mystery in the small of my back. Our love will blossom with every book we consume, every author we fall in love with, every art we create.

We will take care of each others hands, mind and heart because they are our instruments. We will create sons and daughters who will be literary giants with gentle artistic hearts. We will teach them to love and love and love and then create. Because writers are lovers first before creators. We will open their eyes to the multi-faceted beauty of this world. We will teach them to dream in colour.

If i marry a writer, It will be a gift. Our lives will be the most beautiful poem laden with joy, pain, forgiveness, laughter and most of all Love. We will love each other until we are completed works of art. A little tweak here,a little tweak there; and we shall proceed to walk this earth, hand in hand, in all our artful splendour.”

This reminds me of home.

It seems like the perfect morning
as i step into the sunlight on my front porch.
i breathe in the brisk summer air
and i stare into the distance.
The sky is the lightest shade of blue
And it is beautiful.

This reminds me of Nigeria.
This reminds me of my home.
The air smells like hardwork and hope,
And i am hit with endless waves of nostalgia.

it is strange. I cannot hear loud honks from bad drivers,
I cannot smell akara or agege bread,
i cannot see hawkers asking me to buy what i dont need,
but somehow this morning reminds me of home`.

I cannot see overloaded merchandise vehicles,
or people mindlessly throwing things in the gutter,
There are no little kids in plaid uniforms trekking to school,
No mama-put cooking with her crying baby on her back.

I do not even see potholes on the road,
there are no mechanic stalls on the sidewalk,
No okada men with more than one passenger,
Yet this is the aura of my home.

i can’t quite put a finger what it is but
maybe it is the never ending cycle
of everyone trying to make a living.
Maybe it is because regardless of where you are,
you wake up every morning and put your best foot forward.

maybe it is because wherever we go,
we take memories of home with us.
And on some days like today,
we are given a glimpse of home,
that triggers all these emotions.
maybe this is a reminder that we
carry our roots with us wherever we go.

Maybe there is a song in our hearts that nature triggers,
maybe it is because nature is a mirror, and sometimes
we see reflections of ourselves and everywhere we have been.
I don`t really know but this morning, I really miss home.

this isn’t a poem; it is anything you want it to be.

These days I do whatever I want, however I want and whenever I want to. I have no time fighting battles I shouldn’t be fighting. I am learning to trivialize issues that are trivial, learning to free my mind.

These days only a few people matter so much, hence only a few opinions actually matter. I have little to no expectations from most people, with the remaining few, i still have some expectations ,But in God, I place all my expectations. I know if i don’t get what I want, I probably didn’t need it or i’m getting something better. It still hurts, most times.

My relationship with God is the most important thing to me right now (it should always be the most important) . If I don’t stay connected to Him, everything falls apart but in Him, I am held together, I stay together.

Everyday,  i realize how imperfect i am, and i have decided to stop trying to fix things, I have decided to let it be. Imperfect is beautiful if you ask me (I hope you ask me). It is amazing how much beauty i get to see just by opening my eyes a little more.

The goal is to be the best i can be and make the best of all I have been given while I still have air filling my lungs. I have no rivals, no competitions all I have is one life, one heart and a voracious desire to live the best life possible…. one that will still shine long after i’m gone.

I do not have to prove anything to anyone but I do have one thing to prove to myself and that is that I can live my life fearlessly.