“It’s easier said than done”

Mutaqun Oiza Momoh
Sep 4, 2018 · 3 min read

For some people, even while their eyes are closed and their hearts have gone to bed in the depth of their soul, happiness is still so easy for them. As easy as breathing. And for some, it’s easily difficult, it’s like trying to make a basket carry water. I know this because I’ve been there and I know how hard it is to try to grip something you think you need but can’t have.


Night after night, I lay alone and ponder, ignoring the last beautiful streaks of twilight turn into blank, deep darkness full of quiet mystery and mischief. I wonder whether you still think of me. I do, every night. I think of you. I feel you. I smell you. And I’ve led myself to believe that’s where my happiness lies. But tonight, I shift in my large disturbingly comfortable bed and let my doubts cloud my mind. Happiness shouldn’t weigh you down so, right? Happiness isn’t finding solace in the tuneless songs of the crickets behind my window nor in the pain from my ragged nerves which never seems to go away, is it?

Day after day, I wake up before the darkness begins to thin out because my dreams no longer feel like bright flowers nor refreshing scents. All I see behind closed eyelids are distorted playbacks of our lives when I was your everything. How am I even here, I always ask myself. Yet, I still clutch to my wallet in my moments of nervous attacks, trying to will my heart to believe you’re with me but all I do is ruin the picture of you I carry around. But this morning, as I watch the soft soothing light of dawn deepen into bright orange sunrise, I realise it’s all me.

Not the screaming kettles of coffee that have kept me company through sleepless or scary nights, nor the hit of caffeine I search for to wake me up and help move my limbs every morning. Not the daily yoga that I hope would help my find my centre. I’ve felt the same pain everyday, every night, through all of my constructive activities but this morning, it dawns on me that I’m the only one who could ever bring back the happiness that used to live within me. Maybe, sometimes, hope is toxic. They say the giddy highs and painful lows help make the rainbows look brighter and makes the magic special. But it’s a lie, I echo in my head as I dump what’s left in my pot of coffee down the drain. It’s a lie. Pain is pain. I shouldn’t lose what’s left of my sanity over someone who didn’t think I was good enough. I should learn to smile and find beauty in everything even when my heart seems to be in sync with a brewing storm. For the days might be gloomy, but I shouldn’t let it sway me with it.

But they say, more accurately, that it’s easier said, than done.

Mutaqun Oiza Momoh
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