CLOSE YOUR EYES… SEE IF THERE WAS MAGIC
I was going to write a story about me but I can’t it’s harder to write when you not settled.
I don’t have writers block. I’m not being lazy, I’m being me.
Now I’ll write about something else, a star, a pen or maybe my toy pup golden retriever called Snowball.
Snowball isn’t snowy or white, she’s golden. When I first got her, I thought she was a Maltese.
Guess Maltese aren’t nearly as cute as a golden retriever. Golden retrievers are loyal lovers willing to
please but snowball is so comfy to cuddle into. I don’t know when I sleep off when she’s in my arms. I
can’t wait till she meets Daphnia, guess Daphnia is a GSD. She could also be a Rott. I never tried to find out. Guess love isn’t a fairytale.
If stars are constellations, love is a icky feeling that makes you anything but yourself.
Why else would you want to have someone by your side all the time, getting too much in your space,
going out, or exchanging saliva: damn! There are germs everywhere.
I wouldn’t wet my pillows for a feeling! Please emphasis the feeling. It’s a big bore, waste of precious GB
in the brains memory capacity.
It doesn’t fill up space but it’s a bug gently destroying memories, thoughts, little by little.
It’s a tiny virus eating deep, destroying barriers placed.
It’s so dangerous that scientist is yet to find a cure.
I am yet to get over it too. Yes, I got the bug.
Why isn’t he a little more like them and less like him?
It would make it easier to scuff,” hump! He isn’t him, so I don’t love him”.
But he still kisses my nose, and I smile, sheepishly.
Butterflies flutter and that feeling!
And then friends don’t get butterflies in their tummy.
Wait, do they?
I never try to find out. It’s pointless.
And lest I forget, don’t listen to Tatiana when you chatting with your ex. You’ll only create images
planted in the song to distract your mind.
Instead, listen to Eminem, at least that’s what I’m doing now.
Until you hear, “she tripped, fell and landed on his dick”, change to something holier. Next on my least
was happy song. Thank God!
And the wind blew her hair in his face, distracting him, her scent drawing him closer and he….
Sorry, what was I writing about…Geez!
You see, it’s that virus, trying to overshadow my thoughts, changing the chemistry of my fingers.
…He got sparked, she got spunk but they were scared to show, even though they both had something
each other wanted. Abeg, they had a fire that was burnt out. What use was a spark?
I’m trying to find the words but they aren’t coming out right. This is pointless. I can’t remember the aim
of this but I remember a pen and oh yes, how not nice love is.
Guess love might be that annoying neighbor’s child that hides one of your slippers, making you suffer for hours trying to find it. They even offer innocent help which you accept gratefully.
You have been scammed! The other part of the slippers is under your own bed!
And she says goodnight, forgetting the evil she did, I am yet to “JASI” on this love issue. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a counter debate.
I am not scared of being hurt or turned down. I am scared of the moment before it spills.
If you get bugged, “if you love somebody, you better let it out. Don’t hold it back, while you trying to
figure it out.
Don’t be timid, don’t be afraid to hurt.
Run towards the flame, run towards the fire, hold on for all your worth.
Cause the only real pain a heart will ever know is the sorrows and regret when you don’t let your
And when you do tell, that feeling inside, it’s called Satisfied.
I kinda believe it, because Jewel told me.
If I never knew you, I would pretend that this was the first time. I won’t sweat on my palms, feeling like
its fresher’s year again. I wouldn’t ask for advice on what to do. I would never but then, I knew you.
Closing your eyes, do you feel you have been here before? Do you think things changed through the
months at all? Will you be optimistic or pessimistic?
When the walls collapsed in the city that we loved, do we begin from the rubles or our sins?…(thank
So, let’s not pretend everything is normal; it never is… it’s weird, it’s different, and it’s complicated.
It’s always, it’s okay, it’s Us.
DISCLAIMER: this was an inspiration that came at the wrongness of times.
I just wanted to write and that came in.
Don’t even think its cause you told me about your girl.
I just thought this was the right moment to write
Not my fault. Blame my head…
Writer: Aminat Imi-Hillary Momodu
Fb: Aminat Imi-Hillary Momodu
Gmail: [email protected]