Friday 30 December 2016



THE GIRL WHO GOT AWAY
      
  Growing up, I was that kid that needed an extra everything. From extra uniform to extra books, bags, you name it; I even needed extra care and attention but my old folks were very busy people, I didn’t get what I yearned for; I got what I got.
       Oh well I wasn’t very petty and I wasn’t very bright so it’s safe to say my trouble doubled. I was that person everybody loves to hate and I think I got bullied more times than I can actually remember. Can’t help reminiscing, my first day at Christ High School Mando Kaduna, I met my cousin who was already a student of that same institution, after hanging out with her and her crew during lunch break; she called me aside and said “ congratulations Ivy, you are officially the weirdest person I know”. Forgive me sis but the memory just kind of stuck with me.
      Well, that was me; the weirdo of all weirdos and I’m pretty sure I didn’t know how I became that person that nobody wanted yet nobody could get rid of. Maybe I’m wrong about the assessment of my situation back then, but that was how I felt. All I remember was a kid who desperately wanted to fit in, to belong.
       I have spent most part of my life hating this version of me, hating how I look, and talk; walk because no one has ever accepted me for who I really am. I kept trying to change me so I can finally fit in but I was just one misfit in the world trying so desperately to fit in.
Have you ever felt like you belong to a different world and time? For what felt like centuries, that was how I felt.
       I figured if I look a little prettier and brighter; I would definitely belong but I was wrong. Been pretty and bright doesn’t exactly give you dignity or high self-esteem.
       My quest to belong, to fit in didn’t yield any positive result rather I hit rock bottom and then I asked myself: why isn’t the real me enough, why can’t people see beyond my obvious flaws and love me for me? That’s when it hit me: I like who I am, I like this version the same. If I change and become someone else, something else all in a bid to fit in; I don’t know what I’ll become. Too bad people are too shallow minded to see the real me, am not changing for anything in the world.
       So beneath the devilish banter, charming wit, nervous grin and the girl, who so desperately wanted to fit in, I’m something more; I’m Ivy: the girl who got away and saved herself from herself…




It’s never too late to save yourself from yourself… we humans; we are always our own worst enemies. The circle of abuse you’ve been introduced to, you can end it, and you can be the light for your generation. What are you waiting for pretty?

Monday 12 December 2016



GRACE unplugged
Many things I would love to write
A million years won’t be enough
I had no right to pray
Taken too many wrong turn
Crossed the line of no return
Passed the point of redemption
Tried all I could to get back
But even I knew there was no coming back for me
All hope was lost
But you kept hoping against hope
Even when I knew I was undeserving
You left my candle burning


Just when I thought I had had enough
You saw my Achilles's heel
Then stoop down to my level
To the mud where you first picked me
Giving hope and a strength renewed for tomorrow
And the day after and the day after that
You took my hands and off we went to a place where grace drowned all my mistakes
Took my feet out of the sinking sand
Made beauty out of the ashes I am
And now even I can tell that your grace is enough…



Sunday 11 December 2016

THE CONCLUSION OF I HATE LOVE STORIES.




Sitting there, feeling completely out of place and trying to make sense of it all, that’s when I noticed you. A tall stranger standing beside me since the concert started. Everybody in the hall were moving and dancing and screaming and we were the only ones doing none of the above. Seeing your calm and peaceful expression, I stood up, you had your eyes closed; staring at you I had shivers down my spine… the way you stood, so calm and peaceful made me think you are not in a room full of crazy people high on energy. The way you stood made me think you were somewhere else; somewhere I’d love to go, wherever that leads as long as I would have a taste of the peacefulness I saw on your face.
              
I must have lost track of time or I simply didn’t bother to check because the next thing I knew, I was looking into a pair of beautiful brown eyes. I honestly didn’t know when you opened your eyes so I immediately looked away. Embarrassed for staring at you like a creepy person yet I felt your eyes on me so I chanced another look and I was right. Out of God knows where, I heard my voice “you know, it’s not polite to stare”. Immediately you looked away, took a deep breath and closed your eye...that was funny, coming from someone you caught staring at you with eyes wide open.

Whatever your thoughts were about what I just said, you kept to yourself. Then I watched you open your eyes, your expression didn’t give anything out. It was neutral. I mustered a shy smile and a small shrug as an apology for my actions; you gave a small nod as an acknowledgement. I focused back on the concert; the duo of P square just finished their energetic performance and everybody was coming back from the hype, they were then preparing for a mellow song.

When the entertainers started singing one of their famous love songs, the couples in the hall and some group of friends immediately cozied up with each other. It took everything in me not to look around and search for Christopher my best friend. Half of me was afraid of the disappointment that will surely come when I won’t see him and the other half was afraid of finding him in the company of some other girl but I couldn’t help myself from looking at the stranger standing beside me. I was curious if you’ve noticed what I noticed because I knew you were also alone that night. You still had that neutral face on, not letting anyone and anything into your thoughts. I almost wished I could do the same because judging from the roller coaster of emotions I’ve been through the whole night; my guess is that my face says I am on the verge of losing it; losing everything. 



When you get to a point when you realized you have to stop loving someone in order to save yourself from total ruin, it’s like committing suicide. I think it’s safe to say I died a little that night. That night I realized Christopher is my best friend in the entire universe, I know his deepest darkest fears; he knows mine and just maybe that’s why we can’t be together. Both of us are just too damaged and broken together; perhaps it’s time to tell a different story.

Halfway through the song, couples openly showed their affection for each other. Some were slow dancing, some were kissing and some just held hands. It’s like everyone was wrapped in their own bubble, oblivious of where they are. Then I thought of him again because this would have been the perfect moment to make a grand romantic entrance and profess his undying love for me but he was nowhere in sight. Luckily for me, I wasn’t the only person in the crowd without a partner. We exchanges glances a couple of times and you must have seen the loneliness in my eyes because I felt you step closer, your arms touching mine.

That was my first memory of gentleness for a long time. The warmth from your arm reaching to my broken heart like it knows how fragile it has become after years of pinning for someone who would never be or come around and suddenly, I couldn’t bear it no more. That night I cried for a best friend who would never love me like I love him, I cried for the years wasted even though my fragile heart could somehow bear another two years of waiting and pinning and hoping; I cried for every step I took and never looked back, decisions I made and never regretted. Lost in my thought and tears, you raised my tear filled eyes so I look you straight in the eyes and then you said “care for a dance”? Without giving myself time to think, I ran out on you, away from the tall stranger with beautiful brown eyes.

Outside the hall, I cried my eyes out; I cried even more for running out on something, someone who could have turned my sad broken heart into something beautiful. I cried for you, the stranger whose name I never got to know. So if you are out there, and you ever get to read this; cheers to what could have been, it would have been intense and beautiful. Cheers to another lifetime…








P.S
When I started writing I HATE LOVE STORIES, I thought I was writing the story of Ivy, the girl who got away; I was wrong. It’s still Ivy’s story though, but it’s more… it’s also my story.