HOW THE WOMAN YOU LOVE WILL LEAVE

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There are quite a number of women that you have loved. There is your mother that you assume you must have loved at some point before she left you with her bestfriend, and there is Nnenna, the said bestfriend that raised you along with her other children, and Chichi, although you are not sure if she counts because you were 11 and she was 13 when you loved her, and there is Enny, your first girlfriend in university, and Nana the next girlfriend, and all the other girlfriends after, but this is the story of the woman you love the most, the one you love right now, and how she will leave you at the centre of Nike Lake Road, opposite the okpa woman's shop on a rainy day.

The woman you love the most will leave you on a rainy day, and years after, you would come to hate rain because it would remind you of loss and trigger feelings of abandonment. 

On the morning she will leave you, she will be lying on a couch watching tiktoks and you will be sitting at the table, writing poetry that you intend to send to a literary magazine for publication, then she will waltz over to where you are, take your pen out of your right hand and sit on your lap facing you.

 You will be slightly annoyed, but hardly angry because you love the woman and everything she does, every movement she makes is graceful and ravishing in your eyes. You will ask her what she wants because you will recognise the mischievousness in her eyes and she will ask you to say her middle name.

You will black out first, then stutter a few random names, before admitting that you can not remember, when in fact, you have never known.

She will call you by your full name and ask again, this time unsmiling, without the playful tone in her voice and with a hand stroking your hair as if the friction between her hands and your hair would elicit a memory, but it does not work. You do not know her middle name.

The woman will leave your lap where she sat and head angrily to the bedroom muttering something about how you love your "stupid" poems more than you love her. You will follow her a minute after, despite her asking you not to.

There, you will find her bringing colourful notes out of a bag; poems you had handwritten for her to express your feelings.

She will hold up the first one, yellow, the one where you described her body as a temple for your sole worship, and she will tell you that she found your writing in that one disgusting and she felt objectified by it.

You will be about to apologise, to ask why she didn't let you know she felt that way earlier, but she will shut you up and hold up the second one, red, the one that you signed off with "someone to whose prayers you are amen", and she will tell you that reading it felt like reading garbage, that the expressions you used were too exaggerated and it felt fake.

You will gulp and try to hold her hand, to catch her eyes, to remind her that she did not have to be so upset but she will pull away and hold up the last one, pink, the one you gave her during your one year anniversary the week before, after she agreed to move in with you, the one that took you two months to write.

She will let out a faux laugh at first and say it was the only handwritten poem you gave her that she liked, and after you told her it took months to write she felt special, then she will ask  if it was nice that you published a poem you claimed to write for her on the internet. You will try to explain but she will hold both hands on her ears and keep on talking about how she was upset that you had written about the most intimate moments you had both shared for everybody to see. 

Abruptly, she will stop talking and start laughing genuinely, lightly tapping you as she does. She will say that the tantrum she was throwing was a prank, she doesn't have a middle name, everything she had just said was a lie, and there was a camera recording in the corner and you should have seen your face.

You will be relieved that it was a prank but you will want to give her a punishment, so you start chasing her to tickle her, because tickles are what she hates the most. You will chase her out of the bedroom, past the living room, out of the flat you share and through the tiny green gate that separates the building from Nike Lake Road.

The woman you love will leave you on that day. She will be too giggly, too impressed by her brilliant decision to run out of the house, too keen on not getting caught to notice the car coming on full speed from the opposite direction. The woman you love the most will leave you, broken ribs and deflated lungs at the centre of Nike Lake Road, opposite the okpa woman's shop on a rainy day.

Author's note

I wrote this some time ago <can't even recall when, I'm getting old, hehehe>. It must have been for a writing duel, I'm not too sure anymore. 

There was this thread on twitter about how life was all vanity where people shared a lot of stories about painful losses and it reminded me of this story.

Sometimes, life is just life, and things happen for apparently no reason, no moral story, no happy endings. In a world where we usually would seek meaning and purpose, it can be disheartening to find out the harsh reality that some events unfold without any clear reason. 

It is human nature to search for meaning in every aspect of our lives. We seek answers, explanations, and narratives that can provide us with a sense of closure and understanding. We mostly crave the satisfaction of a moral story that neatly ties up loose ends and imparts a valuable lesson. Yet, sometimes life defies our expectations. It throws curveballs that leave us bewildered, searching for answers where none seems to exist.

I wish I knew some of the answers too, but I'm not that privileged, hehehe. 

All of these are a bit sad to think about, so I'm sending everyone reading this the warmest hugsss in the world for any heartache and pain you feel because of any setback or loss that appears to serve no greater purpose that you have experienced.

I have found a lot of comfort in Jesus during my own very turbulent times when life was being life by the way. I highly recommend.

<I'm Christian, I just had to, proselytizing is our thing, hehehe>.

This is getting too long, I should stop now. Thank you for reading all of my random musings <lmao who says "random musings" in 2023? ewwww I know>.

Tell me in the comments, do you think about this kind of stuff often?

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