TalkBlog

  T oday I write because I have made a pact to turn in two pieces each week. Knowing me, I would say that's not at all sustainable. But today I would sit pretty and channel my violent tendencies onto my laptop. At least it would only highlight my mistakes in red instead of flat-out saying I'm saying nonsense. I write because, in this form, I don't hear the voice questioning everything I say or telling me what to do. I have imagined love; I have aspired to love (maybe marriage); or so I thought, as long as my memory could permit me. You know those 5-tier cakes with those stairways and the bride and groom? The messy order of photographs had the emcees going on and on about the list of people, the couple had to take photos with. And hell, it was chaotic, but it's me; I live for chaos. All I knew at 4 was the beautiful dress that the lovely aunties had to wear, and then the smoky, tasty jollof and beef waiting for me after. With the way we were training with the husband'