A relatively Crap-filled piece
A while ago, I was an emotional mess of some sort, well turns out messes evolve and when they do, shit can SORTA get even messier. Sounds like a bad punch line, but stay with me, I’m going somewhere with this. The gift of being able to clearly articulate your thoughts without any of the beauty or emotion they carry being lost in translation comes partly with having a clear mind, free from the riot caused by random thought habits you unconsciously created in times past. Unfortunately I’m not so fortunate; I haven’t been able to get my thoughts through, in fact I don’t think I’ve had any thoughts so far, it’s all been an endless loop in “Ayo’s house of neuroses” starting with me waking up feeling more or less like crap, pondering about the dream I had the night before, spending sometime lying in bed, either fighting off the constant negativity or feeding myself mantras or instructing myself to remember to carry out that new habit that will help me hack my life before I carry out my disorganized version of a morning ritual.
I spend about 2 hours getting dressed and shit, in preparation for another day in that place that has now become my sort of personal hell; the university of Lagos (in all fairness, it’s a relatively okay school; I’ve just programmed myself to hate it nevertheless it has its fair share of crap).
After I’m done wasting about 6 hours or more of my life in that place doing nothing in particular apart from having over flogged discussions with people, staring at girls I won’t approach, debating whether or not to go smoke weed, listening to Travis Scott, having rockstar fantasies, feeling like a stranger and having countless conversations with myself; ranging from words of encouragement, to hate speech, name calling, staving off overblown future predictions depicting my imminent demise, and thoughts of stabbing or shooting myself, I return to my abode where more of the above mentioned happens.
Some days it isn’t so bad, I get glimpses of hope, I read a good book, I have decent conversations, my friends turn up and do crazy things or I remember after a while that I’m still the author of this shitty play and the onus is on me to change the script.
Sorry if there was no underlying message or stuff, this is the first time I’ve written in a while, maybe next time.
P.S - I recommend that the word crap should not be used as much as observed in this article, seeing as our vocabulary affects us more than we realize. Thanks