Dear Medium, You Hurt Me
But I couldn’t break free
Dear Medium,
My name is Georgina Odafe, a writer in the faraway land of Nigeria, deep in the heart of Africa. Maybe not so far away because news of your fame reached me even when I didn’t know who you were.
Every time I visited, I felt seen by your community of writers. You created a place where I could search for my problems and find evidence that someone else feels or has felt that way. That’s what I needed to live through one more day.
One day, I heard another piece of news about you; that I could share my words with this community. So I wrote this, hoping for a clap or two afterward, to show I was welcome in your community.
Every day I waited for your letter, the one that said, Hey Geenha, this person read your work, and thought you did well. Here is a clap from them.
But it never came. To me, it meant you didn’t want me in your community of writers.
Yes, I know my story wasn’t my best work. But I was in a hurry to show you I had something to give, the same way others gave to me. I wanted only one clap for my effort. You never gave me that, again I turned my back on you.
I still got news about you, I ignored them until I heard you were giving out goodies; payments to writers with views.
So I ran back; the prodigal daughter returned.
It wasn’t about the money. Maybe a little, I mean one dollar might not mean a lot to some, but that was the cost of my breakfast yesterday.
Deep down, I wanted to prove myself to you once more. I tried so hard, importing stories from my website to fill up my page and make it look nice.
Day and night, I researched wanting to understand you. Longing to know how I could qualify for the goodies you were offering.
For the first time, I paid your monthly gate fee. Just so I could get access to all your rooms and learn from your best. Maybe then my words would be enough to please you.
Yet you disappointed me once again.
You said I was exempted from your gift, maybe because I live so far away. You hurt me, once more. It was time to retreat, into the comfort zone that has been my shell.
But you still had my gate fee and I couldn’t let it waste.
I read, learning different things such as how you have hurt others too. Their words consoled me.
And the next month I took my revenge on you, holding back my gate fee to show you how it felt.
But you weren’t remorseful, instead, you taunted me. Oh, you taunted me, using attractive headlines, allowing me to read three lines, but no more because I didn’t give you what you wanted.
A relationship without reciprocation.
I stayed away but not for long.
Like a wet rat, I scurried back to you, needing the comfort of your community. They told me it was okay, and that I could survive just like they did.
I wish I could reciprocate, sometimes I try to share my words with them. Even if I seem not to have the gift as they do.
Cher Médium, I’ll keep paying your gate fee. I’ll keep enjoying your stories and sharing my words when boldness hits me.
For now, I’m here because I love this world you have built. Although I have never belonged, I hope that one day I will find my place in your community.
Your distant writer,
Geenha Odafe
