Kola's Day

Hi there! We have a new guest writer with us today. The one, the only *drumroll* Mazeeeeee! ^_^ Here's a throwback piece of his. Read and enjoy.

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The hour was close.

The night was conspicuously ominous. The stars nestled quite edgily in the black velvet blanket, and the moon hid itself behind thick cloud plumes – even the celestial bodies were scared for him. The silence was pristine enough for him to hear his heart beating in rapid rhythm.

He swallowed hard.

He stared at the sheet of paper for the umpteenth time. His palms were sweaty and the trickles of sweat began to muddle the red ink. “This can’t be right” He thought to himself. Again, he punched the figures into his calculator, shook his head and let out a sibilant sound. These grades couldn’t be right.
But they were.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his sleeve. He was really going get it this time.

“Why am I cursed with a Nigerian Father?” Kola wondered. What would be his punishment today? “Most likely Ijoko Idera he thought to himself. His stomach started to churn. He re-enacted the punishment in his mind. He would have to sit on the floor, raise his two legs, making them parallel to the ground and he’d have to stretch his two arms forward, parallel to his legs. His father would pick a small wooden chair and just watch him as he served his punishment. If his legs ever touched the floor, he’d receive about ten strokes of his father’s leather belt. His back had grown so familiar to the taste of the skin of a dead cow. The last time he did this, he wasn’t able to walk properly for 2 days.

He heard the rumble of a car. He checked his watch. Daddy should be home anytime soon. The car’s light seeped through the creaks of his gate. Getting brighter and brighter. Compounding Kola’s fear.
Daddy was coming!
A shiver ran through his spine, weakening his legs.
He clenched his stomach and held bated breath….

The car passed his gate.
It wasn’t his Daddy’s.
He heaved a huge sigh of respite.

“Should I go and begin to read?” Kola asked himself “Perhaps if Daddy sees me reading, he’d see that I’m willing to change and forgive me.”

The thoughts haunted him again. What if his father told him to stool down? His body trembled at the mere thought of this punishment. One foot on the floor. One leg in the air. One finger on the floor. His body, arched at a demonic angle, and its full weight on that one finger on the floor. His dad would still sit on a chair and watch him suffer. If he changed legs, or changed fingers. He’d get a whooping.

He tried to swallow again, but this time a lump, the size of a grape, had built up in his throat.

At times like this, he wished he were American. He’d get a “grounding” or a threat for summer school. At least that’s what the Television said American kids got as punishment. “

His martinet of a father showed no mercy. His father was a professor at the local university and couldn’t fathom his son being a blockhead. He dealt with enough of those in his class. He had made Kola promise that the last time would be the last time Kola ever received any “red” on his report card. Kola had failed to keep his promise. He was going to get it.

The hour had come.

He heard his father’s car hoot all the way from the huge gate of the estate.
He knew judgment came in the dilapidated old Benz.
He knew there was no mercy.
The skies darkened further.
He looked down to his shorts.
He had just peed himself.

- Maze 

  (@MazeDaMouth)

Trust Me [ Prose ]

The beat pounded through my body as the
heat of the room made my cheeks flush red.
I smiled as I picked up the sides of my long
dress, weaving through the dance floor.
Swirls of fabric swayed around as girls
either danced with their dates or sat at the
tables that lined the walls, waiting for that
special person to come ask them to dance. I
quickly made my way through the crowded
room.
The cutting stares of the other couples
bore into me as I swiftly made past them.
My hand instinctively moved to the mask
that hid my face from the couples. I
stumbled in my heels for a second before
steading my self, standing straight.
My nerves began to get the better of me as
I walked. It's like dribbling the ball down a
court, Cat, I thought as I stood even taller,
doing my best to mimic confidence.
The couples' hushed whispers echoed in my
ears as I moved across the dance floor
looking for a face. His face.
The thought of him sent shivers down my
spine and sent a sweet smile across my face.
Yes, that is the reason why I am here. Who
cares what they think.
Enduring a ridiculous amount of pampering
and prodding from my best friend, Meg, was
very worth it if I get to be with him. You
should have seen her priceless expression
when I told her I was going to the dance.
She went as far as fixing up everything for
me, including my make up and this monster
of a dress. Don't get me wrong... The dress
was gorgeous, but I haven't been able to
breathe properly since I put it on.
The longer I looked for him, the more my
heart sank. 'You're so stupid, Cat. He's not
even here.'
Just as I was about to leave a warm hand
settled on my shoulder. I spun around and
smiled up before I saw the eyes that went
along with that gentle hand.
They weren't the warm chocolate brown
that I was had been hoping for. They were a
cool forest green. Sure, a mask covered his
face, but that doesn't mean I didn't know to
whom those piercing eyes belonged to. Anger
sparked and flared, making me hands turn to
fist at my sides.

Look Into My Eyes - Ms Koya [MNTG]

 

Pull me aside and look into my eyes
What do you see?
Nothing but dark smoldering beauty, you say?
Do you not see the pain, the anguish embedded in them?
Do you not see the grief hidden behind my eyelashes?
Do you not see the tales untold?
Do you not see the fake smiles stored up and ready to spring up at will in my pupils?
Do you not see the hope, faith, hurt, determination, fears, love, potentials, insecurities, strengths, weaknesses?
Do you not see what makes me, me?
Me, the last Tayo Orekoya daughter.
Me, the frail prematurely birthed baby.
Me, the convulsing little girl, physically seeing what others couldn't see, the fear of losing me burned into my parents' minds.
Me, the fear in my young heart and mind holding me captive; after another turbulent night filled with fitful sleep, monsters and ghouls.
Me, the worshipful kid sister of her brother.
Me, the rebellious deviant soul of a teenager.
Me, the kind hearted, smart, adorable, young woman I want to become.
Me, my soul's penury, oblivion and redemption.
Me, the delicate shards called my heart, broken into smitherens, and scattered in different directions.
Me, the protective love I have for my best friend, my sister.
Me, the pride and love in my father's eyes, as I excel in various spheres of my life, from crayons to a first-class.
Me, the pain and love in my mother's eyes as she struggles to make me a better person.
Me, the spawn of greatness, the shoes people have to fill.
Me, the music that proceeds into my ears and out of my mouth; the melodious tunes serenading and waltzing with my sorrows.
Me, the dark angry persona, afraid of attachment and commitment, lost and without emotions.
Me, the joy of many generations.
Me, the tears I shed for the loss of my grandmother; the grief and fear hidden in secret cupboards and shadows.
Me, the curious little girl, now the assertive young woman.
Me, my wild and free imagination, running loose.
Me, the blessed to be a blessing.
Me, my past, my present, my future.
Me, who I am, who I'm not, who I want to be.
Me, God's little treasure.
Now, look into my eyes.
What do you see?

Its Independence Day.

Photo - mynameisentirelyigbo.tumblr.com

When I was much younger, I used to look forward to October 1st. It meant hearing the same inspiring stories my dad always used to tell me with his head raised high like our Sunday preacher, about how it had happened in 1960, from the march past, to the sounds of trumpets of rejoicing. He would even give details on the pen that was used to sign the declaration of independence.

And then my mum would dress me up in the cutest (or what she thought was the cutest then) green and white outfits and take me for parades, one year I even got to present a bouquet to a governor. I can definitely say it was one of the coolest days of the year for me, maybe even third coolest after my birthday and Christmas day.

Now I'm older and Nigeria's Independence Day means nothing more to me than a day off school, a day of excessive BBM broadcast messages and maybe the only day Nigeria gets to trend worldwide on twitter all day..but hey, our loss to Team USA in the Olympic men's basketball has taken that cake this year.

The point is the essence of celebrating Independence Day in this country has been lost and the only real reason few people celebrate it is the hope for a better tomorrow. And so today, I'm joining the minority who celebrate this country and I'm  raising a glass of optimism and hope that future independence anniversary celebrations gives us more reasons to celebrate.

Happy Independence Day and Happy holidays.

God bless Nigeria.

The Other Woman - Ms. Koya [MNTG]

"What's wrong with me?" I think for the umpteenth time, as I look into the mirror at the identical face staring back at mine. My guilt-filled thoughts didn't stop my mind from wandering.

That face, I think, cocking my head to one side as I looked at the beauty of my reflection; that face he kisses tenderly every night.
The look on that face softens as I think of him.

Him.
His scent, strong and masculine, invade, fill and intoxicate my senses, driving my mind to frenzied heights.
His eyes, when they moisten as they look at me can reduce me to a pulsing, palpitating pulp.
I've been enamored with him from the moment we first met.
And when I held his hand, the deal was signed, sealed and delivered.
I am smitten by him, his quick and compassionate mind, his built, his sensitivity, his kind words, his gentle spirit, his business acumen, his sense of humour. Him.

We've exchanged all that there is, from our grievances on political and economic issues of our country to emotional sob stories. Such depth in a man.
He's the love of my life.
The little kisses he drops on my forehead every night; habitually, send butterflies diving into my stomach.
There will be no better feeling, even if the heavens opened up and the angels smiled down at me.
He makes me feel like a queen, he shelters me, gives me everything I ask of him.

I feel like I'm a better person around him, or at least the need to be one.
We are so alike, people are opined that we might even look alike.
His assertiveness, sense of independence, individuality and self strength mold my character.
When I cook, clean, do anything for him, his thanks make my world a brighter place to be in.
His voice, sounding like a bear's growl, always seems to emanate from deep in his throat, ringing loud and clear; can be intimidating if taken from the warmth in his dark, kind, beautiful brown eyes.
Those eyes that twinkle with the clarity of crystals, sapphires and diamonds melded into one sparkling jewel.

The only thing we haven't yet done is to culminate our mutually proclaimed love in coitus.
Oh, the sensations that besiege my mind when I think of how you'd love me, tenderly and with fearful and trembling worship. I can barely wait.

There is a stumbling block, however.
She's the bridge between me and my happily-ever-after.
She's the one you come home to, the one you go to bed with and wake up to.
She's the one that keeps you loving me the way you should, the way I want you to.
She's the one you said 'I do' to.

She is the other woman.
She is my mother.

- Ms. Koya 
  @taymie_GVO

Losing Love

Anyone who has gone through the agony of losing someone he/she loves
so much will still wish against all odds to have that love back again.
But sometimes a love lost is a love gone forever. No amount of hope
can bring back to life a relationship that just died a natural death.
Set yourself free, let your heart spread its wings and fly. Remember,
it may rain for 40 days and 40 nights, but still it will not rain
forever. One day the pouring will stop and there will be plenty of
branches where you can find rest. One of these is where you will build
your nest and start over again. It's never too late. you may find love
and lose it, but WHEN LOVE DIES YOU NEVER DIE WITH IT.

You cannot be a redeemer all your life. The best way to weigh a relationship is
through the test of fire. You cannot be sober with your mistake forever.

Don't let your heart run your life, be sensible and let your mind
speak for itself. Listen not only to your feelings but to reason as
well. Always remember that if you lose someone today, it means that
someone better is coming tomorrow.

IF YOU LOSE LOVE, IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU HAVE FAILED COMPLETELY. CRY IF YOU HAVE TO BUT MAKE SURE THAT TEARS WASH AWAY THE HURT AND THE BITTERNESS THAT THE PAST LEFT YOU
WITH. LET GO OF YESTERDAY AND LOVE WILL FIND ITS WAY BACK TO YOU.

When it does, pray that it may be the love that will stay and last a
lifetime. A woman on the rebound could easily fall for sweeping
emotions and be made to falsely believe that she finally stumbled upon
the right person..when what she just found is only someone to cover up
for the love she lost. A person who makes a promise with words and not
with actions may never live up to them.

Love makes us see the things through rose-coloured glasses. Most of the
time, we fail to recognise the danger sign that light up along our
way. This feeling you have nurtured for so long isn't healthy anymore.
You must realize that you have to let go now before it consumes you
and your sanity. There is always a time to think and stop. A time to
be sensible and not to allow our hearts to rule over our heads.

You deserve to be happy not in the arms of a person who keeps you waiting, but in the arms of someone who will take you now and love you forever. Being in love can be the most wonderful thing we could experience but if the feeling begins to consume and dominate our entire beings, then we have to stop and let our minds and not our hearts dictate our actions, Only when we learn to accept our fate and understand the meaning of our failures can we truly go on with life. Without having to look back and cry over the things that could have been but will never be.

Never settle for less.

- Hales
  'Xo

Mutare

Hey There Readers! We have a new guest writer, Feranmi ! Read and enjoy!

Mutare? I just did that to make this thing seem sophisticated.
Mutare is a Latin word.
It means Change
Mutare is Change.

Change, inevitable right?
Its amazing really.
Things change, people change, everything changes at some point
Why? I have no idea.
Funny enough, I was never a fan of it
Whether good or bad

I guess I just hated having to adapt to 'new' things
Looking back at last year, its been quite a year
So many things changed
Friends of yesterday are strangers today
Strangers of yesterday are friends today
But that's how life is right? Nothings permanent. Things are bound to 'change'
And sometimes I'm like "I can't wait till next year to see who's still with me" y'know?

But why do people change?
Well, I figured some get new priorities...like popularity even follower counts. Lol. While some just lose interest.
Its ridiculous.

Funny thing is, change is gradual.
It doesn't just happen
I look back and I realise that I watched as these things happened.
I watched as these people around me evolved gradually
But I guess I thought that 'change' wouldn't come about. But it did.

Do I have any regrets? No.

Everything changes for a reason.
As lame and cliche as that may sound, Its true
But that's one of the beauties of life right?
Life would be boring if everything was constant.
You learn from those changes knowing that there are many more to come.
Its like you can never get too comfortable with anything/anyone because anything could happen. 'Change' could happen.

I was thinking of a cool way to end this but I guess I didn't think enough.
Mutare.

-Feranmi 

(@Feranmiiii)

...But I Loved You - Ms. Koya [MNTG]

...But I loved you, even when you hurt me.
...Even when you cast me out of your world, treating me like a leper.
...When you tore at my heart, shattering and smashing every last piece.
...When you hit my body, almost as surely as you hit my mind.
...When you practically raped me, drunkenly; blinded to my tears and heart wrenching screams.
...When you made me abort my babies; making me wallow in my guilt and shame.
...When I was too far gone, and my baby clung to my womb; and you didn't want him.
...When we had to get married, and I could see the cold spite in your eyes.
...When I would think and hope that good begets good, and you'd someday love me the way I loved you.
...When Mother worried over me, like I was under a spell.
...When my friends said to leave you, and not look back.
...When you battered and shattered me, giving me blows, and calling me names; accusing me of things I knew nothing of.
...When you killed my insides, destroying all I had struggled to build.
...When you defaced me, watched me morph into a shadow of myself, obliterating all I had known to be sacred and sane.
...When you would not eat my food.
...When you would bring strange women into our home and have them sleep in our bed, my bed.
...When you would take 'business trips' and your boss would say you were at work.
...When you would hurt me at every given opportunity.
...When you would not love our baby boy, although he idolized you.
...When our only crime was loving you.

...But I didn't love you
...When while 'punishing me for my sins', as you called it one day, you hit my son.
...When I saw my baby tumble down the staircase
...When, in that split second, everything changed.
...When my baby suffered and writhed on the hospital bed, and I sat clutching his feeble little hand tightly, night and day.
...When one day, my baby never opened his eyes again, and Death took him in her cold grip.
...When I mourned him months on end.
...When you mended your ways.
...When you came crawling back to me, sober and sorry.
...When you fell in love with me all over again and needed me back.
...When it was too late.

- Ms. Koya

LAGOS

We have an awesome guest writer here on Rebel Flair's MNTG : the one, the only Joshua Lean! @JOSHUA_LEAN . Here's one of his throwback works. Read and enjoy!

The sky is azure with promises of bigger pay checks and more suggestive spouses. The buses come in a little after eight, ridding their bowels of weary travellers as loved ones, strangers and the ever cautious pick pockets rush to meet them. There is small talk, there are laughs and sobs of reconciliation, tales told to little ears, the silent murmurs of men on business, the excited chatter amongst new comers and of course the unrepentant yells of conductors.


The air is sanguine with the smell of fried fish and the songs of the bread sellers. There is the increasing noise of screeching tires and blaring horns as indignant engines refuse to be mollified, they come to and fro..only to be reunited in commuter traffic. The afternoon sun is resilient keeping its heat above bearable degrees, the homeless guard their corners while expertly purchasing food with money they do not have. The area boys also guard their turfs..there will be no unwanted visitors.
The hawkers go about their hawking, scouting potential customers with eagle eyes while the police monitor the goings-on with pockets itching for trouble makers. A Toyota Camry runs a red light at breakneck speed, this of course is frowned upon but will be overlooked if the right words are spoken to the right people. Business as usual. Traders display their wares with enthusiastic grins to worried secretaries, school boys who couldn't care less, and old men too busy musing on halycon days. The okada riders will not be left out of the bustle,dangerously manoeuvring their way past vehicles and pedestrians,the bank across the street gleams in the sunlight with the debonair that can only be worn by a building. An obvious ariviste in traditional garb greedily counts money on the hood of his Mercedes Benz,making absolutely no attempt at secrecy.

Children walk with parents to the supermarket, thinking of the best ways to implement their pester power. Evening falls and the streets are more busy than they were in the morning. Prostitutes unleash themselves on the general public, cat walking (or what looks like it) and smiling just long enough for three of them to be whisked into a Prado. I stand up from my vantage point,my back hurts like hell. It'll be a long drive home and if anything the traffic will not ease, I still see the hawkers in their abundance and some beggars in wheelchairs who were construction workers six hours ago.


I smile and roll up my window, the fumes beginning to choke me. Men and women walk home to their families..despite the increasing reasons to worry, there is a strong feeling of hope, one that is unmistakable. I look as the lights of a dozen skyscrapers glow in the darkness..its beautiful really, I think to myself. I can hear the loud music of night clubs and the cheers of the clubbers..I close my eyes as the music lures me into sleep's feathery grip. This city on the other hand will not give in as easily.

- JSL

Joshua is the Shakespeare of our time. No wash intended.
-- More from Joshua? Unrequited - Clearly Vague

Light - Ms. Koya [MNTG]

They say love is blind.

That seeming cliché defines my very existence .
I was born blind...and I'm knee-deep in love.

I can hear the warmth in your voice.
I can almost see the love oozing out of you.

I don't know what you look like but I know you're handsome, the highs and lows in the planes of your body like that of an Adonis, the aristocratic features of your face like that of a Grecian god.
I feel the strength in your voice, that strength that I am beyond certain will see us through the storms.
I feel the excitement, hear the grins and animation in your voice as we talk. That humour will see us through trying times.
I feel your warmth, when you hold me close, our heartbeats as one, and you tell me you love me. That warmth that will see me through many cold nights.
I hear the vehemence, the fierceness, the belief in your voice as you defend me in my time of need. That faith will conquer all.
I taste the love on your tongue as we share beautiful kisses day after day, as you reassure me of your presence, as we culminate our bond. Such love hath no greater man.

You have the wisdom of Solomon, the faith of Abraham, the meekness of David, the loyalty of Jonathan, the determination of Moses, the leadership and assertiveness of Noah, and above all, the compassion, love and selflessness of Jesus Christ.

The hard days come, but trying and trusting you has been my best challenge.
You are my rock, my pillar, my defence...my everything.

I'm not completely clear on what the future holds.
But I don't need to physically see.
For love is God. His word brings light, and understanding. Understanding is love.

God is love, God is light.
You, my love, are my sight.

-Ms. Koya
@taymie_GVO

Lapse - Ms. Koya [MNTG]

What she had felt for him was indescribable, incredulous, unfathomable even.
Love that surpassed what Romeo had for Juliet...what Ceasar had for Cleopatra...and even more.
She had been enamoured by him ever since they met, her stomach doing multiple back flips, her insides churning like butter.
She saw the heavens in his eyes, and the clouds at his feet.
He could do no wrong in her sight, he was perfection.

But alas, she deserved no respect in his sight. He treated her with disregard and disdain, fending off her not-so-subtle advances.

It was love at first sight for her.
It was love at no sight for him.

He didn't want to see her; she wanted to breathe him, all of him into her very soul, absorb him into the core of her existence, ingurgitate him into every fiber of her being.

She could kill to have him, lay down her very life for him. He couldn't take it anymore.

One day, he took a long lingering look at her; a look of almost pity in his eyes, freezing over to become spite. He looked her square in the eye, and told her to leave him alone, that he had no feelings for her.

Those seemingly mere words were enough to cause her walls to come down crashing, to break down her defenses, and push her into a chasm of incomprehensible  pain, leaving her to fall into realms and worlds of hurt, with no pillar, or rope; nothing to hold on to, lean on.
She was all alone.

He was her first and only love; She had seen their future together. He had not seen it.
He had destroyed her by looking into her eyes.
She had to destroy him too; she had to watch him feel the pain he had put her through. She had to find a way. 

She could kill to have him. She had to kill for him. She had to quicken his mortality.

Looking now at her bloodied hands, and his lifeless body, she no longer saw the heavens in his eyes.
She saw her journey: twists and turns, lapses and relapses twirling back and forth, dancing the dance of infinity, coming and going, never again to return.

- Ms. Koya

@taymie_GVO

MNTG: Love...the raw phenomenon

Love. This four letter word. Love is a notion that I simply do not understand, I never might. That longing that drives you to madness, that makes you drive off a cliff, is it worth it? An infinite plethora of questions about this phenomenon we call "love" plague me. First and foremost, what is love? Is love God?


Love and lust are inextricably intertwined. It is almost impossible for one to tell the difference. Nowadays, lust is often mistaken for love. Can an orgasm be said to be a physical manifestation of love? Is love lust?


Love is a mindset, a materialistic concept, a genetic urge, and above all, an irrationality. There is a desire in every human to find the significant other; is this desire born of nature or nurture? One really cannot tell if love is a reality or a myth. The old couple in the park may just have gotten accustomed to each other over the years, but then again love may have been the force that held them together through the years.


Love is an enigma. One knows not what it entails, for it is shrouded in mystery. Is love limited to one person? Can we only find love once in a lifetime? Who dictates these rules? Who lays down these precepts?


I regard 'Romeo and Juliet' as a tale of youthful exuberance, dramatic tendencies and quite frankly, too much time at hand. Poison, daggers, tragic deaths, is that what you desire? Surely this "love" cannot be real, surely it is a phantom of the mind. 'Knight in shining armor', 'Happily ever after', 'The one', I spit on these cliches.We have been brainwashed by promises of a happy ending.


Perhaps love did once exist, but it has dilapidated, broken down beyond redemption. The love of today is cruel and destructive. Why yearn for that which causes you pain?

Love is a disease. To be honest, I'll rather not love or be loved.


- Eyitope (@MissAbati)

Anne's Diary: 25th Aug, 2012.

I’m super sorry, diary. Fell ill for over a week, so I couldn’t update you on what happened at Tito's. Guess who made me indisposed? You guessed right. That two-faced low-life blaggard Tito. I've been down in the dumps; sobbing day and night. Even Daddy had to intervene, and show his sympathy. I'm just an emotional wreck *Sigh. Things will be better; they just have to.

So what happened, yeah...I went to his house in an attempt to accomplish my mission of getting him back. So there I was, knocking his gate, hoping to see him; only for his security guard to come out and tell me that he went out and will be back soon. As a 'lover girl', I decided to wait...got tired and decided to take a leisurely walk. I was strolling around his estate (I'm quite familiar with it), and I saw Tito...with a girl walking down the street almost past me. They seemed engrossed with whatever they were discussing; holding hands, little smiles, laughs and kisses here and there.

I watched, heartbroken...if that wasn't an understatement in itself.  I quickly hid behind some bushes, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes, as I cried there silently. I made a little sound, and they turned in unison. I fumbled around on the floor frantically, pretending to search for my earring. When I 'found it', I stood up, hurriedly dashing my hand across my face to remove the tears. 

Tito shouted 'Anne, hi! What are you doing here?' 
I walked briskly down the road, to say hi. I prepared the biggest - and  most artificial - smile I could muster. I looked straight at Tito, as my pointed gaze caused him to hang his head with probably guilt and/or shame. I also suspected that he could see past my facade, and into my pieces of a soul. I told him, in reply to his previous question "I came to get my sweater from your house; I left it here last week. His girl, Toju, or something, looked somewhat victorious, and worse still, full of pity....for me.

It was super awkward, on top of everything else.

I couldn't stay there, and around them any longer. "Well, excuse me, I best be on my way now"...like I really had anywhere else to go. I continued my miserable hurried walk down the street, my tear-blurred vision all I had for guidance. I somehow managed to remain in denial, however, till I got home. For a while, after the initial shock and sob session, I was just dry-eyed; heart shattering with tears not shed. 

Soon, however, one huge, soulful sob racked through my body, and memories came flooding in. I've been sobbing day in and out since then. I mean, here I am, broken beyond redemption. Soon, before I know it, I'll be a 58 year old spinster, with no man to call my own. Even Daddy had to show his sympathy; he had never seen me in such pain. 

 Okay I know I'm being a tad melodramatic and over-the-top, it can't be helped. I’m hurt, deeply hurt. I'd very much prefer to sleep and never wake up. Now I understand, he broke up with me to be with her and that means he probably had been cheating on me even when we were together. I suspected it at some point, but I didn't want to confront him, love-sick desperado puppy I am. Uggh, I hate him, a lot...or rather, I hate the fact that even after everything he has done to be undeserving, I still love him. Boys are monsters, they suck. I feel useless and worthless. I’m just going to stay alone for a while and drown in my sorrow. My first and only love broke my heart.

...You know what, Diary, it's pretty pointless pouring out my sob stories here. It won't do anything for me. I'm not happy, and it's difficult to pretend to be. Ergo, I have to bid you goodbye. This diary was mostly meant to be about Tito, me, and our future; but as it is, that's out of the way.

Sayonara.
-Anne.

MNTG Presents "Happily Ever After?"

Hey there readers! ^_^
MNTG (Memoirs Of A Nigerian Teenage Girl) welcomes our first guest writer, Hales (@Halimaahh). Read, enjoy, and ;eave a comment!

                          



I can only speculate as to the existence of the notion of "Happily
Ever After", as I have not yet lived my entire life, and being only 20
years of age, cannot have possibly had the opportunity to live as
such. However, I like to believe it exists. I feel that perhaps the
popular notion that it is not possible lies within the extremely high
expectations instilled in many of us as children. We are engulfed with
movie storylines and fairy tales from such a tender age. While I will
not be withholding the story of Cinderella from my hypothetical
children, I will do my best to explain to them that they are
responsible for making their own happiness.

*Shrugs*

I have never had the unrealistic expectation of a prince showing up at
my door offering me a diamond ring in the event I can squeeze my
skinny foot into a glass shoe. To be honest, I have never even desired
a Prince Charming. All I really want is someone who respects me,
supports my dreams, and mows the grass without being asked.


This begs the question, "Is it imperative that Happily Ever After
include a significant other?" Is it? Of course, mating is the natural
course of nature. Is it, then, necessary to find a companion in order
to ensure happiness?

I can't answer these questions for myself or anybody else, but I can
accept that I may never find the traditional ideal ‘one’, as my

Mother never fails to put in the forefront of my consciousness.


In which case, it is up to me, and nobody else, to ensure that
I don't live the next several decades feeling unfulfilled
and as if I have wasted my life.

I have envisioned my future in many dimensions, We all have, really.
In each instance, I am able to see myself as not only happy, but also
satisfied with my life. While I am sure many things will happen to me
beyond my own control, I plan to make the best I can of all
situations. I plan to realize that when something gets me down, it
won't last forever.


I might meet the man of my dreams and live happily
ever after with him, but I also may never meet anybody and live
happily ever after with myself and the many friends and family I am
fortunate enough to have and retain.


Your life is what you make of it, so make it
everything you can.

Hales
'Xo

Catalya - Ms. Koya

She wandered down the long winding road, mental pictures flashing in her mind.

His eyes, those eyes. The two sapphire beauties that held the heavens, the skies and water in their pointed gaze. 

She remembered the tears in them, the way they glazed over at her. 

The pain etched across his tender, lovely features, his helplessness as he lay there in her arms, the blood from the bullet wound spreading over his white shirt. 

He whispered his last words, "Catalya, please remember to forget me." And as she proceeded to tell him "No, that's not right. It should be me not forgetting to remember you", he went limp in her arms, where she had held him tightly, not letting go. His body went cold, his eyes glazed over, leaving her. 

Leaving her? Throwing her, more like, into an abyss of loneliness, sending her hurtling into an arroyo of despair, of unthinkable pain, of indescribable sorrow.

It was deep, deep anguish. She was lost, and alone. She died day and night, her battles with the closet and under-bed monsters becoming more intense. She fought and fought, some she won, some they won, roaming without caution in her dreams and mind. Those nights were the hardest. She could struggle no more. She was tired. 

One day, whilst she stopped fighting her battles to regain sustenance and existence, his last words "Please don't forget to remember me" engulfed her mind, from their engraving in her heart. They had been burned in there by his lips, her last memory in her private hell. She retrieved his final words from her archives of profound sorrows and then it hit her. An earth shattering, cosmic blow hit her that he had said, instead: "Please remember to forget me". 

As she finally embraced those words, her defensive walls of pain coming crashing down, she came out of her reclusive state. Her resolve was weakened. She knew she had to change. She had to restructure her thinking. She had to reach out. She had to love. 

She was still broken, healing up slowly, picking at the scabs of her wounds. She had loved and had lost, because of a stray bullet, damaging her in ways death never can. She had to remember to forget...and she did.

Time will tell, they say..and time did tell, it told a beautiful story of love and healing. And as she walked down that long winding road, once again, smelling the catalya flowers by the side, she remembered it all, mental pictures flashing in her mind. She was whole again.