I’m a bit frustrated so, this might not make a lot of sense hence, my very queer title. These past few weeks have got me thinking about love. Well, I think that’s what they call it. To be honest, I’d rather refer to it as lust or infatuation. So, what drove me to think of such rubbish at my young and tender age? What exactly was it about love that I was constantly thinking about? Of what concern is this to you? Why are you reading my blog and not your textbook? I don’t know actually but, keep reading if you wish.
I happen to be a hopeless romantic. I also happen to be literally hopeless in the romantic side of life. I can’t even begin to explain why I wrote my previous statement but, it’s a fact. I don’t blame anyone however. If I was a boy, I probably wouldn’t fancy me. Ey don’t give me none of that ‘don’t be so insecure about yourself…you’re beautiful too…someone will want you’ keep your prep talk for your children. I know I’m beautiful…like Beyonce has competition yo. This has naught to do with my insecurities (even though I have stupidly decided to name my blog my INSECURITIES and co). I am not here to talk about my insecurities. I’m here to rant. Yes! I think that’s exactly what I’m about to do. My heart’s beating faster. Adrenaline is being secreted. My pupils are dilating. I think I’m a bit temperamental now. I’m not quite sure why.
I went a little off point there. So, as I was saying, I happen to be a hopeless romantic. It might be because I have chosen to bombard myself with romantic movies/novels and blindly believe in them. I’ve grown to want this fake movie love. I’ll always imagine myself with the best possible man in the world. Breakfast in Dubai, lunch in a private jet, dinner in china (now that’s my Igbo side speaking). Also, I’d imagine myself and Mr Romantic taking long, slow walks on the beach, sitting on the rooftop till sunrise, talking across the table while we eat my not so perfect meal, sleeping together. No sex, no immoral activities, just sleeping and clinging on to the love of my life. I just wanted a simple sort of romance y’know. So, I had to be so uptight and non-cooperative with the boys that I knew wouldn’t make my fantasies a reality. Unfortunately, this happened to be all the boys that have ever fancied me. Well, all the boys that had the courage to make their feelings known to me. So, I really couldn’t have anything to do with them in terms of relationships. I might seem like quite the picky type but, it’s far from that.
Somehow, we’re talking about relationships. Relationships? I’m not about that life. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t go round giving boys ‘free chops’ either. I think relationships are a big commitment. I hate to claim people as my best friend(s) (I do have a best friend though). I hate constantly talking to the same set of people. I hate being close to people. I hate saying ‘I love you’. I hate the idea of having to do the same kind of job for the rest of my life. They all require commitment and attachment hence, why I’m not a big fan of relationships.
So, why do people rush into it? It’s supposed to have meaning. It’s supposed to symbolize love rather than a source of adventure. It’s supposed to be real. I could never understand why people went out back in high school. It was one of the biggest mysteries ever. Like why? What was the point? Was it the thrill of kissing in PE class and not getting caught? Or going behind the hall to press breast and touch the D? All those things seemed disgusting to me back then. I was 14 when I left high school so, maybe that’s why. Then again, three years after, I still think all those things are disgusting. Then sometimes, I get people asking me what the worst thing I’ve done is. Like I’m supposed to say ‘ oh I jumped a stranger the last time I went clubbing’ and feel like a boss. One word, Disgusting. I used to be the ice cold beesh just cause I turned everyone down. My friend Mr Lolosky described me as a new car once. I didn’t quite understand the similarity at the point but, it sounded nice.
But, things have changed. I was locked up in an all-girls school for two years and then released into a world full of beautiful boys. The worst thing ever. Don’t ever send your children to single sex schools. I was let off my leach and dumped in the middle of a sea full of fishes. Arab fishes, Nigerian fishes, mixed fishes even. Hmmm yummy yummy yummy is all I could think of. So, I let loose. No, I did not convert my vagina into McDonalds’ toilet. I thought I should get rid of my fantasies altogether. None of that cute pure love rubbish. None of that I’ll have my first kiss with someone that was crazy about me nonsense. None of that I will wait bullshit either. I thought I’d just act on impulse and ‘see what happens after’. That’s what everyone has been telling me lately. ‘Just see what happens’ we all know what’ll happen so, why will you keep me waiting.
Anyway, let’s forget everything I said before this paragraph. Today I did something that I said I’ll never do. I allowed my tear ducts do what they’ve always wanted to do. I hate to cry because so many people including myself think I’m some weakling and I have to try and act all tough so, I can prove to others that I’m not the average weak girl. Also because I’ve been through so much in my life and crying never actually helped me in anyway so, I said I’ll never do it again. But, it’s so hard to not cry when everything is going wrong. I know I should pray when my life seems impossible but, that’ll make me cry even more. So, I try not to think about it or just laugh about it or sleep.
Today however, I can’t do any of those things because I’m tired. I’m tired of being the strong girl. Tired of acting all badass for no good reason. Tired of making emotions such a taboo. Just tired of everything. I was still keeping my tears back until I heard ‘vespers goodbye’ by Nick Jonas. His voice always brings me to the brink of tears it’s so unreal. So, why did I cry? Why did my tear glands disappoint me today? I don’t know. Lately, “I dunno” seems to be the only answer I can manage to give for every question I’ve been asked. I’m being evasive, trying to avoid every kind of emotional conversation/encounter. I am just tired and weak and demoralized and I dunno. I’m confused and it sucks. I’m in a place where I shouldn’t be. I’m not moving forward in life and no one understands. I don’t want to be here but, I have to. I have to force myself to bed every night and wake up every morning trying to convince myself that I’m good enough and I’ll make it through. Someone once told me that self-deceit is the worst kind ever. I’ve never been so insecure about everything before in my life. I can’t anymore.
To top it all up, my amygdala has decided to fancy someone I can’t have. I should be so focused and I like a boy. Wtf is that about? Sometimes I wish I had no emotions. Things like this just irritate me. A few weeks ago, it was so perfect. I was like “omg he…then, I…and then, we..and he said…teehee we might actually…”I felt like I had taken a step forward but, today, I think I made a mistake. I happen to be more than a million miles away from having what I want with said person. Then there are the other boys that need to get off my case.
Ugh ugh ugh. I cannot begin to describe the intensity of stupidity that I feel right now. I was to scream and cry and eat ice-cream + cake all at the same time but I can’t. I’ll lose my amazing voice if I scream. I’ll feel weak if I cried (again) and I’ll get fatter if I ate ice cream + cake. Life really isn’t fair. I should stop now before I say too much. This is a blog not my autobiography right? I just thought that maybe if I wasn’t so uptight you might actually….
The point of all this gibberish is that…there is no point. The thing is, it’s my birthday in three days and, frustration is beginning to set it. I’m usually always so angry on my birthday. Something bad always happens.
It all started in year 7 when two wonderful seniors decided to throw glass plates at themselves in the dining hall. It was a massive fight…too live. However, this got my housemistress pissed so, she said I couldn’t celebrate my birthday anymore. There I was, this little poor year 7 child. I had just turned 10..the big two-digit age and I wasn’t given the opportunity to share my joy.
People tried so hard to make me happy ugh…people. They helped me share my cake and all the orishi rishi that I had. Obviously, I faked a lovely smile for all the very kind seniors. Acted like I didn’t know they were doing eye service for me so, they can devour my food later on. I was skinny at the time so, food wasn’t particularly something that I loved.
Anyway, I went back to my bed and almost cried. I never cry but, if I was the crying type, that would have been the perfect moment to bathe my flat pillow with my salty solution of lysosomes. One of the reasons I hate birthdays. Blah everyone’s always like ‘you have to be excited’. Excited about what though? I’m going to be 22 (ID age)…I’m getting old. Eventually, I’ll be old and boring and probably still very single. *sigh*