Category Archives: IntrovertedPanda

Sight, Emptiness, Numbness, Time.

One week.

Time passes leaving me still as bleak as the beginning because the end is not yet in sight.


. I cannot see past the face. That smile, those lips. Those lips that formed those words that made my night sky explode into a cascade of brightness, and then blew out and extinguished my sun. Like driving on a clear night and suddenly getting blinded by sharp lights. The glare remains in my eye, filling them with tears that will not be shed. I wish I could see past it, I wish I could dim this glare and stare into the face of this pain. But what lies behind it? What waits at the end? The light at the end of the tunnel is non-existent. The only light I remember belonged to the train that ran into my heart, leaving me sitting on the floor of the tracks. I cannot stand, for I have no direction to walk in. What way is forward? Where do I find it? I do not remember. I am devoid of… I am empty.


I’ve poured it all out; the pain, the tears, the anger, only to be filled with more sorrow. It seems the source is endless. Memories, music, reminders… and I’m back to the beginning, full of regret for my lack of sight. But what could have prepared me? What signs did I fail to heed? Where did I err? Nothing and in no way comes the final response from my mind, as it struggles to keep up and process these questions. As it struggles to balance and not break as I seem to have broken. I have broken and all feeling has been drained from me. Nothing brings back the feeling, nothing fills me up. People, music, alcohol, nicotine… nothing. So I do not bother. I’m tired of trying to provide some feel.  I… am numb.


I feel nothing. At least I would like not to. The pain of a heart shattered in a million pieces and littered all over the floor of my broken down soul keeps me painfully aware. But slowly I lose feeling. I do not want to feel anymore; for nothing, for no one. Not for a time to come.


Time does not seem to heal. Or maybe it is too soon. I do not envision a time where time would have been enough.

This post may make no sense. I’m going to be writing random posts; I don’t know what they’ll be about, or anything. I just need to write. So if you have an issue, I’d suggest you stop reading my blog. Just fair warning.

Death & All His Friends

I don’t know how to start this post dramatically. I don’t know how to explain the pain I’ve been holding in my heart for the last … I don’t even know how many hours.

But what I want to talk about… is death…. and how it has affected me. And I’ll say this up-front. This really is about how this all makes me feel. That may make me selfish (I’ve already been called that tonight), but … anyways.

Over the last few years, I’ve noticed a trend. When people that I know, or matter to me in one way or the other, so that their deaths would pain me… when they die, I think about them in some form or fashion, just before I find out that they’re dead.

And this may not mean anything to you. You may think that I’m just saying this for saying sake… but believe me when I say that I do not like it.

Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting and working with my friend @Dsight_Kay, when I made him turn off the Adele album he was playing, because I wanted to listen to Amy Winehouse. And I remember I was singing and smiling, and enjoying the soulfulness of her voice as we went through different songs; You Know I’m No Good, Back To Black, Wake Up Alone, Me & Mr. Jones, Fuck Me Pumps… and I was singing along and thinking how it’d be cool to listen to her live… and how she’d do so amazing if she could get that American visa so she could finally work with QuestLove of the Roots like they’d been planning for a while… or how she’d do so well on a track with Adele… and then I tweeted “On some Amy Winehouse steez 😀

And one hour later I get this mention: “@dtwistednerd: Amy Winehouse! Dead. Eez a lie @CapoeiraPanda”

And I find out like that, that one of my favorite ever musicians, is dead. I’m not gonna say I was devastated. I didn’t know her. We weren’t friends or family members and I didn’t have some cousin who had a friend who had a sister in law that knew her. But her music had touched my life, so it hurt that she was gone. And the fact that I was thinking about her before I found out… made it more painful.

This afternoon, I found out that my 25 year old, ever smiling cousin. Who graduated from Bowen last year with a First Class degree in some science based course that I can’t remember anymore… my cousin that was cool peoples… that was so hard working… died this morning. He had kidney problems and had been on dialysis for a minute. They took him off it last week. He had been discharged, and was supposed to be getting better. And he died this morning.

What pains me is that I was thinking about him… and saying to myself that I would call him. So I could abuse him and tell him to “shake off this useless sickness jare. You’re a Fatona.”

I’ll never get to call and hear him on the other end again. I’m never gonna be able to tell him that I’m graduating First Class (by God’s grace) just like he did. I’m never gonna get to tell him how his gist of how hard he used to word inspired me to go hard in school. I’m never gonna get to really get to know him, cos we weren’t really close. I’m never gonna get to speak to him again.

What hurts me most? He was in the hospital for months. I never spoke to him once. I always said to myself “I have to call this dude today. Immediately I buy credit I’ll call him.” And something would alays come up. I’d always forget or something or the other. This dude went through so much pain, and eventually died. And I never spoke to him once.

If not for anything else but this, I feel horrible.

I’m tired of hearing about deaths. For the last 6 – 7 years, someone who has mattered to me in some way or the other has died. And I’m sick of it. Chris, IK, Sanmi, Kabiyesi, Mama Ibeji, Nancy, Tomi… *sigh* I’m tired of trying to remember all the names.

Now that I remember Tomi…

I was thinking about my guy Tomi. And that I would call him to see how he was, and if he was down, I, he and our friend Obanya could go get some drinks when I got back into Lagos or something. And then I called Obanya like two days after to make plans, and Obanya tells me “Tomi Sonaike shot himself.”

That was 2007.

Recently, we’ve had a few cases of people committing suicide. I cannot say that I understand what these people go through. But I will say that I judge these people because no matter what happens, I believe that suicide isn’t only a coward’s way out, it’s also an unkind and heartless way to do it, because it puts aside the feelings of the rest of the people being left behind. No matter what the issue is. Tomi’s mother walked in and was picking up pieces of his brains from the floor. The woman was under heavy sedation for weeks after.

But that’s not what I’m on about.

Truth be told, I’m not even sure what I’m on about. All I know is that I’m tired of Death taking people away from me. I don’t know what to do about it… but I’m tired. I’m hurting for the loss of my cousin. And since there’s no one to talk to right now… I have to let my pen drip like the tears that have come down my eyes.

R.I.P. Babawale Fatona; the brother I never got to know. The one I never got to speak with. You live in my memory; and in there, the light of your smile can never go dim.

Bible Passages

Alright; before I begin, please check out Habakkuk 8 v 17-19.

Checked it out? Cool huh?

A few years ago, I read a quote that a friend of mine wrote. It went “Though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines, though the product of the olive fails and the fields yield no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold and there are no cattle in the stalls. Yet will I rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the victorious God of my salvation! The Lord God is my Strength, my personal bravery, and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds’ feet and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror, but to walk] and make progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering or responsibility]!

– Habakkuk 8 v 17-19.”

And I fell in love with that passage and decided that it had to be my favorite bible passage. Today, my girlfriend asked me what my favorite passage was and I sent her to go read it, and the next thing it’s “Panda, Habakkuk 8 doesn’t exist”.

I was shocked.

For those of you who didn’t actually open a bible and were gonna form agreeing that Habakkuk 8 v 17-19 is a cool passage, well… God help you all.

Anyways, after looking around in utter confusion, I finally found out that the passage did exist, but it was actually Habakkuk chapter 3 not chapter 8.

This appalled me for a few reasons:

  1. I had been staking my “favorite bible passage” belief in something that, for all intents and purposes, did not actually exist.
  2. I had never actually opened my bible to see for myself, but I had accepted its truth without asking a single question.

All of this reminded me about the way the average Nigerian is; always willing to accept things without question. As long as the words he’s hearing or listening to will give some form of release from fear, unquestioning acceptance is always possible.

For a long time, I’ve always been against unquestioning acceptance. Just because a person says something is so, doesn’t mean it should be taken at face value. Ask questions; try to see things for yourself. Yes, you should learn from other peoples’ mistakes, but sometimes, people call things mistakes when they have never experienced them, and some of those things they actually did experience were completely necessary in order for them to become the persons they did become.

One thing that scares me is when I hear people say things, and it’s quite obvious that they don’t know what they’re talking about. Then when you ask how they got their info, it’s “so & so told me so.” Is it so hard to simply find things out for yourself?

I don’t know… I guess maybe it is. I guess maybe I’m just kicking myself in the ass because I realize now that calling a passage my favorite when I never actually took the time to open up a bible to see for myself, shows the level of my unseriousness and that I basically do not have a favorite bible passage.

But whatever it is, I am more resolute on this than ever before; never believe things just because somebody that you respect or is in a position of authority over you says it’s so. Take out the time to ask questions and to see for yourself. Or else, one day you’ll wake up and find out that you’ve believed a lie for ages… and that isn’t fun. That I can honestly say.

The Panda Returns

Sup people?

So yeah, I know it’s been a while and all that. Y’all miss me?

*the sound of one lonesome cricket*

Really? That’s how it is huh? Issogu. Anyways, was busy with my final exams but I’m done with all that so…yeah. I should be writing more and stuff. And hopefully, I’ll be getting paid to write. Yes, that’s right. Your beloved Panda is looking for a job. Can’t be sitting on DaddyPanda’s couch all day.

I went through the Naija Blog Awards site this morning. Thank y’all so much for putting me up there for Best Student Blog. It really means a lot that a few of you think my Thoughts are worth the effort of nominating. Of course, the next step is to vote. So yeah, click HERE please. J

Anyways, so a lot of my fellow bloggers were real busy while I was out, and a lot of their posts had me raising an eyebrow and wanting to write myself. So I’m thinking I’ll be writing stuff based on some particular people and responding to some things. I’ll also have more guest writers coming up here now and then.

Speaking about guest writing, I recently became a writer on the TheseGenes Blog. So I should have a post-up there sometime soon.

Okay. I really don’t have much to write really. Not sure if there’s gonna be a post today. This is just me saying hi. I’ve missed writing. And I’m back.

Be back sson.

An Unspecific Love Poem

I’m supposed to have been studying. But instead, I decided I haven’t written poetry in a long time. So I started writing a love poem.
A friend of mine sent me something last week. I was supposed to put it up. But I’m still wrapping my mind around it. You’ll understand when I finally put it up.
This poem is for… well, you know it’s for you sha so…  yeah.

An Unspecific Love Poem

I wanted to write down words about how your smile could realign the stars
And how the light in your eyes shines bright enough to discover life on Mars
…..but that didn’t make any sense.
Then I wanted to tell you how your voice could make the Sirens take a ship and crash it at the reefs of your shore
And how your beauty could make even Helen turn lesbian, pick up a sword and lead the Trojan army into war
… but that seemed a little far fetched.
What I think about you should never be so complex like the theories of relativity
Or trying to understand God and the concept of eternity…
See, I understand that what we have is the way beauty is meant to be.
Uncomplicated, amazing, unspecific…simple.
Simple like, a teat question being so easy, at the end you write a little “qed” kinda simple
Simple like, tracing my finger across your cheek and kissing your dimple kinda simple
Simple like, you telling me how much you love my big head
And yours may not be very big, but it sure is stubborn. You’re like a pretty Aries sometimes. A stubborn little goat…even though you’re a Scorpio
And then I tell you how much I like your long legs.
And your reply is “you’d better like them.”
Well… I do.
I like the way you sing for me, like you were at a concert and I was the thousand person audience.
I like the way you call me and yell “boooskiee!”, like some razz little munchkin.
I like the way you yawn, like a little baby and say “baybee …I’m sleepy.”
I like how you laugh when I get stuck telling a joke, cos i didn’t quite think it through
I like how you know that at the end of the day, for me, there’s only you.
And it’s true…only you.
You…you make me wanna sell all my worldly possessions so I can have enough money to take a pilgrimage back in time and go worship at God’s temple
And tell Him thank you, on the day your mom and dad had sex, and you were conceived.
And I know the thought of your folks having sex creeps you out
But that was what produced this creature …
Sexy, full of intelligence, beauty, difference…
Different. You stick from the crowd like a dandelion in a rosebush.
And if you were that dandelion, I’d pick you from that rosebush and wear you on my jacket lapel
To tell the world I know what real beauty is.
Or maybe I could stand on a street corner, telling every Tom, Dick and Wasiu how amazing you are.
You’re like, the very peak of the bell curve of a graph for what amazing would be
You’re amazing like, an MTN customer never having to complain about network failure.
You’re like, the very idea of a four minute orgasm
With multiple spasms, much more than the mind could try to imagine…
I’ve thought of how best to end this
To tell you how I feel, to drive my point home…
But where my pen ends, my actions continue
So how about we live out this unspecific love poem?

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Introspective Blogging: The Sixth Sense

They say that people lacking one of their five senses, usually find ways to make up for the loss. Sorta like developing a sixth sense. Like a blind person usually has a well advanced sense of hearing and smell. Or a deaf person may have a keen sense of his surrounding all the time.
I think this kinda relates to everyday life. When you lack something critical, your subconscious will somehow or the other, attempt to find ways to make up for the lack.
Sometimes though, you wish you didn’t have that added ability. Cos all it does is give you one extra outlet for worry. Of course, I’m speaking in abstracts. I do that a lot.
We’re missing something very important. And on my end, I’ve subconsciously developed abilities that I never had before. Like a deep feeling that lets me know that there’s something wrong, even when nothing’s said. Even when nothing’s done to show it. Sometimes of course, my extra sensory perception turns up wrong. But that’s a rare occurrence. I don’t even have to see her face, or hear her voice. I just know that there’s something wrong.
Problem is, being the kind of person I am, I don’t wanna bring it up. I hate sounding like I’m complaining or whining. I’m just not that type of guy. So I just wait it out. Wait for her to come back to me.
But the waiting kills me.
Ah well… I have work to do… spent the whole day working on an interview for a job I’m really hoping I get. So I need to study.
Anyhow… so tell me. What about you? Have you developed any new ability in relation to him/her?
Am I overthinking things? Or should I just talk & stop this my Stoic silence thing?
Oh yeah, lest I forget. The Naija Blogger’s Awards is on. So if you haven’t nominated anyone, and you feel like nominating me or some of your other favorite bloggers, please click HERE.

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Introspective Blogging: The Difference in Me

So, a few minutes ago, I realized again, how very odd I am.
I went to buy food, cos I really can’t be bothered to cook tonight. And on my way out, I remembered that tonight is the Champions League final match. So I buy food, and on my way back, I see some of my peeps going to watch the match. And they’re like “you dey go watch for devotion ground abi?” And I go: “I no dey watch football”.
The look on their faces, was just like the look on everybody else’s face whenever I say that. It goes from shock to a look that says “dude you’re weird…with a capital W”.
I didn’t really pay it much mind. Kept on stepping. But then, as I kept walking, I realized that I was the only one walking towards my hostel. Everyone else was going the other way. Towards the girls’ hostel, where the match was being streamed off a big projector. That was when I realized. That a lot of the time, when everyone is walking one way, I’m usually going the others way.
I’ve kinda always been like that. Always shared the opinion that makes me the weird one. On almost everything. From music, to food, to behavior, to women and relationships …everything.
And over the last few months, I started losing appreciation for that fact. Because really, being different, being the very edge on that bell curve, usually means being alone. And sometimes, it can actually get downright lonely.
But then tonight, walking back to my hostel to eat and then study while everyone is focusing on the game, I realized that I’ve always loved this part of me.  I’ve always liked the fact that not many dudes in this country actually can say that they don’t watch soccer. I like the fact that people look through my music library and go “Panda your music is weird” (that happened again on Wednesday). I like that I’m slightly sexually masochistic (TMI? No? LOL). I like the fact that I see people, and the way relationships are supposed to work, differently. I like the fact that I can say that I’ve never cheated on a girlfriend.
I like the fact that I’m not normal.
Cos, that’s always been one of my biggest fears; becoming like everybody else. Becoming normal. Normal is, boring. And yes, being different can sometimes be a lonesome task, but nobody said life was meant to be easy now did they?
So yes. This is me remembering why I like myself. This is me saying it proud. And this is me telling you: never be ashamed to be different from everybody else. I’m not saying you should be different like be a pervert or a killer or anything, but those simple, fundamental differences? Don’t ever be ashamed. They make you who you are. And to me, that’s the most important thing ever.
And I may never gain a real taste for soccer. But I’m okay with that. Even though, I know one person that has something to say about that. But well, that’s between us now isn’t it?
Okay, that’s all from me for now. I’ve got books to read. Some stuff happened yesterday, with a friend of mine. I may write my take on it, and the lesson it taught me, later. And I know you (said friend) will see this and beg me not to write about it. 😀 Fear not babes…lol.

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Introspective Blogging: "The Weakness In Me

Our strength grows out of our weaknesses” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
“If you think a weakness can be turned into a strength, I hate to tell you this, but that’s another weakness” – Jack Handy
The greatest weakness of all is the great fear of appearing weak” – Jacques Beniqne Bossuel
“Sometimes our greatest strength come from our weakness.” – Source Unknown
I believe in the power of weakness.” – Pat Buckley

So apparently, these people (along with a whole lot of others) seem to view weakness as something that is ok…
I don’t know how I feel about that, honestly.
See, In my very short lifetime, I’ve had to become strong. I was forced to pull out the man in me and become rock hard. As time went by, I realized that the strength in my soul wasn’t just necessary for me, but for other people. That other people depended on me to be strong for them.
So, having weaknesses, is really not something I want. It’s not something that appeals to me at all.
And no, this has nothing to do with the whole, “macho man” thing that we men have going on. Okay, it probably has something to do with it. It’s being said that  “The strength of women is the pretense of weakness, and the weakness of men is the pretense of strength”, so I guess that as a man, I also require myself to be strong.

But I think, that my issue with having weaknesses goes a lil deeper. I mean, every man sometimes uses the “I’m only human” excuse to cover up their faults, therefore admitting to themselves that it’s alright to be weak sometimes. And even I have come to admit it. I have weaknesses. Yes I do. I just hate it so fucking much. It may also be because I give off this air of being someone who isn’t affected by what people do. That I don’t really give a damn about you attitude which I exude works just fine for me. That ice cold wall that very few can pass through is a haven for my mind.
“Solitude is strength; to depend on the presence of the crowd is weakness. The man who needs a mob to nerve him is much more alone than he imagines.” –  Paul Brunton


I’m an intense person. That in itself is a weakness, but also comes as an advantage from time to time.

I don’t like the feeling that there are things that I can feel, that I have no control over. That something can occur to make my mind work against me, & there’s nothing I can do about it. The very idea of it is crippling. It makes me feel like ripping my heart off & replacing it with some slab of stone that can’t be reached.

Maybe that’s my problem…that I’ve stopped doing that.

One thing worse than knowing you have weaknesses, is finding a weakness that you never knew you had, & having to come to the pure realization that, you’re a bit weaker than you imagined you were…especially when you want to believe that you have the weaknesses down to the barest minimum.

Recently, I’ve come to the realization of the existence of a weakness. It stems from something that I always knew was in me….but I never knew that it would become a weakness. Maybe because I’ve never given the chance for it to happen. Or…maybe that’s not it. Maybe because I’ve never noticed it. But now I have. Now it’s hit me. And what’s worse, it’s irrational. And what’s even worse, is that the fact that I know that’s it’s irrational isn’t in anyway enough to help me overcome it.

Well, I don’t know how I’m gonna overcome this. I don’t know if it’s even something I should overcome. Maybe in this weakness, I can gain some form of strength. I have no idea.

I pride myself on being strong,
A man reborn from the ashes,
Of a confused American youth,
But hairline fractures so often,
Erupt wetly down this face,
The tributaries collected in,
Off brand white tissue.
I pride myself on being a father,
But deep inside of my being,
I still feel like a lost child,
Loved but overprotected,
From the thorns that so often,
Pierce my tender sides,
From black roses of society.
I pride myself on being a husband,
A man that would die in her place,
But I always feel like sometimes,
I have never done enough,
For her to justify her love,
To a man who outside is strong,
But within feels so drained.
I pride myself on being a worker,
Dedicated to putting food on the table,
Each and every week of my life,
But sometimes the burden is so heavy,
That I wonder if I’m still alive,
After so much mindless repetition,
A slave to the blank time card.
I pride myself on being a poet,
My words pouring forth from my soul,
But sometimes I feel so hollow,
And the words become cruel parodies,
Of my original intentions and message,
An ink-born embyro that was aborted,
Before it got a chance to shine.
But deep inside my being I know,
That Uruz lies in wait to spark,
A fire to a heart that has grown cold,
So many times in the near past,
And In this rune of mine I stand,
A greater man before you all,
And in my thoughts and prayers,
To all of the weak and sick,
I pray that no matter what you call it,
Uruz will come back to you too.
– Brian Andrew Rainey
I don’t know if this poem has anything to do with how I feel right now…but it resonates with my soul right now. I don’t even know if you understand what the hell I’m saying…but well…I don’t know what to say about that.

>Nighttime Reflections…

So….today was…interesting.

I think today was probably the most indecisive I’ve had in a long time. So, originally, my plan was that I’d go to that whole Lekki/Ajah area today; I’d go to Le Beau’s office to say hi & pick him up, then we’d go visit Angulu, who I hear is real sick. Then I’d drop off Le Beau at his office & go to Phase 1 to meet up with Kite, go say hi to my friend Eniola (who I haven’t seen forever), and the we’d all go meet up with Serial Licker & share a joint together… that, was the plan (quite a lot of things abi??)

But then I woke up this morning, & I remembered that it was Lekki I was planning to go to. One word: TRAFFIC!!!! So, as I get outta bed, with another plan: Lekki, on Saturday. Today, I’ll go get a haircut & chill with the fellaz, so tomorrow I can hang out with Maggie…

So I call Maggie & ask her if we’re seeing tomorrow & she says she can’t make it, how about Saturday? Okay to be honest, we’d already agreed on Saturday, but I was just trying to wyne her into coming tomorrow. So I figure, well, I’ll shift Lekki till next week & see Maggie on Saturday. So I’m still gonna hit Ikeja today.

Next thing, Little Vixen sends a DM asking when we’re going on a date….and just like that, this Panda that has been complaining that he’s broke, is making plans for a movie & ice – cream… when Maggie called & I told her I was at Ozone, I was honestly as surprised as she was…

Speaking about my date, that’s the first date I’ve been on in God knows how long. Little Vixen & I get along quite well over the phone, so I wasn’t surprised that we got along in person. We started out by playing some video game – Mortal Combat VS DC (Beautiful combat game by the way) – where I totally kicked her ass. I had to let her win one round…you know…just to be a gentleman (chai, if she should read this blog I’m in trouble!) but the fact that she actually plays video games, and combat games and all is such a huge turn on for me…it’s so crazy…

So we go get our tickets, she wants to see the new Harry Potter movie. That’s aight. I wanted to see Tangled though… :-D… So we watch the movie, & it was cool…we were all cozy & stuff….

Mehn…giving a minute by minute narration of a date is work o! Me I’m tired joh! The point is sha that I enjoyed it! Wouldn’t mind going out with her again. & since she said the next one is on her, I’ll definitely take her up on that.

So yeah….I had a good day. Despite my whole bit of indecisiveness. It was really fun hanging out with Little Vixen. She’s a touchy, feely person like me so there was no weirdness….anyways, I had a good day up until….*sigh* I’m not going to talk about it. I don’t see the point in talking about something that’s past, & cannot be changed. What’s done is done.

Anyways, I just thought I’d do a lil’ “Dear Diary” bull shit…I need to work on memorizing a poem I’m supposed to do at Chill & Relax on Sunday… let’s get to it!

After a Minute

It’s been quite a bit…

I’ve written a few blogs which I’d planned to post up, but they all seem so past tense to me. Maybe if I’d taken my time out to put them up as they were happening, it would have been alright. But well, let’s move on to the present. There’s no better time than that is there?

So, what’s been going on? This weekend was a very….eventful one I should say… starting off with Saturday, I finally got my tattoo. It’s my mom’s name, inked across my left wrist. Thanks a lot to Dawn for that birthday present…. But of course, that story has a bit of K leg…. Thanks to my friend Kite, I got really, really high on Friday night. Yes….really high. So high that, when I went to get my ink done, I totally forgot to tell the dude precisely how I wanted it done. So….it’s not like I don’t like it. It just looks….somewhat outta place. Vanity said she doesn’t like it. She thinks it’s messy… and while she may be right, perfection isn’t as important to me as is the reason for the tattoo, which is my old lady. I will be getting a lil’ something added to it though. Something to give it a bit more structure…. & yes Vanity, I will be using a different guy this time…As soon as I can find the extra cash for it, it’ll be done. And no, I won’t be putting up a pic of it till it’s all done and healed properly.

Moving on…… Saturday night came, & with the late night came things I didn’t expect. Discussions regarding my behavior and manner of conducting myself, and discussions about my total lack of regard for her feelings. Then came the question which I didn’t expect to hear, and with the answer that came out not to harm, but to be truthful, came a torrent of pain and emotion.

What was I expected to do? Stay in the same place? That really couldn’t happen. So I’m trying to move on as best as I can. To cut off ties to the memories and thoughts that keep me awake at night and leave me unhappy, close to tears, missing that which once was. That which was taken from me without even prior notice; one minute it was there, the next minute my heart was splintered all over the floor between the doors of my hostel dorm & my neighbor’s door. I did, I have done, & I still do what I can to struggle through. Having to place a cold box where my heart should be just to stay alive and looking for anything to fill up a soul gone hollow with the evaporation of faith in everything beautiful…

But I don’t need to explain myself. In fact, I won’t. I gave a lot of warnings, I guess now the realization comes to bear. I don’t even mind if I’m hated if it’ll help her move on. All I want is that she does. Cos, me and her, I don’t see it anymore. I wish I did, but I look at me, and the changes is my life, the changes in my perceptions and expectations; and then I look at her, and realize that she’s still that same person. She still shoulders the same responsibilities, still wants the same things…it wouldn’t work.

Took a while for me to finally come to this conclusion… *sigh*…so now I’m just trying to do me. I don’t want anything else. That’s all. Nothing extra, no added preservatives, just me.

Does that make me unkind? Or unfair? Or uncaring?