The horror of graduating

So, believe it or not, your girl is a graduate! I know right? It feels like it was just last week I forced my scared self to post my first post and just yesterday I had to give up blogging because of how sad my grades were getting.

But yes, I’ve graduated and I’m the reluctantly proud owner of a law degree (which is useless if I want to practice without one more freaking year at the Nigerian Law School), I didn’t get into NLS this year so I’m waiting at home till next year. Just floating around my parents’ house like the ghost of unemployed daughters past. I enjoy writing, so I do that for money, can’t be completely useless, but still I feel a bit lost, like i should be attending classes or writing an exam.

Even my writing looks lost.

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Posted by on January 19, 2018 in Uncategorized




When I think about God,
I think about bloodshed,
Bloodshed done in his name,
Bloodshed shed in arguments about his name,
Which name is true,
And which is false,
Somehow to be right is to shed blood,
Whether it is yours in pursuit of his cause,
Under the guise of martyrdom,
Or it’s blood from someone else ‘s veins,
Someone who didn’t believe,
Someone who should have believed.

When I think about God,
I think about bloodshed,
So maybe I should be upset,
That I think about him so much.


N.b: Religion is such a touchy subject at times, it’s easy to get carried away in arguments over it. I won’t lie to you, i’m guilty of that too.


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Yet another one of those talks

I’ve always known that people saw me as a fun, sophisticated person, just without all the fun and sophistication. What i just said in that roundabout way was that I always believed that there was nothing special about me… nothing outstanding.

If you are expecting me to turn this into an inspirational post, you must be on the wrong WordPress blog (actually, the fact that you are reading this and not storming off in a flurry of “how dare she”s makes me narrow my eyes in suspicion… who sent you? I know you weren’t paid to come here, because everyone I know who has some type of income knows that I’d prefer the money in my hands)

If you haven’t realised it, this is one of the posts in which I whine and pout about a bunch of stuff. This time I’m picking on my weird associates.

What is it called when a person keeps tabs on your without your knowledge and by extension, without your consent, monitoring your every move? What’s the word? It couldn’t be! No! I refuse to believe it! It’s called stalking!

So the main reason why I opened this blog was because I enjoyed having something no one who really knew me knew about, it really was supposed to be a safe haven, but somehow some people know exactly when I post something, read it immediately, and somehow concoct a connection between the post and our relationship.

I mentioned earlier that I truly believe that i’m a regular person, so I can only ask, why would anyone go to such lengths to stalk me?

On the good side, I have my company law exam today and then exams would finally be over for me.

I’d rant some more but I’m too sleepy, not going to read through this post or my inner chicken may take over and cluck this post to oblivion

Increasingly sleepy,

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Posted by on November 24, 2016 in Humour, Writing and blogging


My fear

It’s chilly in here,

Or that could just be my fears holding me close,

You ask why i’m not quick to confess my love,

You ask why I shun intimacy,

You ask what I have gone through,

That would scar me this way,

You ask so much of me my love,

But this at least I can tell you.

I hold back because I’m cautious,

I hold back because I’ve seen this movie before,

The movie with two main characters that fancy themselves in love,

I hold back because I need to keep my options open,

And I do that because I am afraid.

I am afraid someone will love you,

The way you deserve to be loved,

I am afraid someone will cherish you,

Like the diamond that you are,

I am afraid someone will love you,

And be free enough to always show it,

I am afraid someone will love you,

And that someone would make you happy,

I am afraid someone will love you,

And you will love her too,

Most of all I am afraid,

That the someone who loves you so,

Would not be me.

Nb:It’s a very real fear.  I haven’t been posting because I’m writing exams.


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Waiting to exhale


The sharp edge of the knife winks at me like an old friend, as if it knows what I should do with it better than I myself, but I disregard its advice and slice up an apple. That would be no way to go, I am no horror story subject, no, I am sleeping beauty, snow white. Waiting for my love, for the man who should complete me.

My friends always warned me that it would end like this, that I would end like this. It was inevitable they said, what with my bad luck in romance and my endless optimism for the right man. I would make a wonderful mother, I know this much because of how good I am with my sister’s children, my friends’ children, with everyone’s children.  

But this is not a suicide, let me tell you this. I just left my house, stood on the street and held my breath. I know that my love will find me this time, and because of that I will hold my breath till he comes.

I fear that people will misinterpret my gesture, I fear that they will call me crazy, but when you think about it, my logic is sound. 

I am just a girl, standing on a street, waiting to exhale. If you want to join me, the secret is to plant your feet firmly on the ground and take a really deep breath. 

Don’t chicken out.

NB: Test period is still on so i’m a book zombie right now. However i do believe that something is a bit off with the post, so any form of criticism will be appreciated.


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I took a hit yesterday,

And rose even higher than I did before, 

I promised myself that it would be the last, 

This unseemly addiction I can’t seem to shake,

Because what is an independent woman who is dependent? 

But every time I inhale,

And only oxygen pumps through my system, 

I’m like a person taking just the bare essentials, 


But just barely and very unsatisfied, 

So I stand in front of you,

Melt into your arms when you open them,

And then I take a deep breath, 

In that moment I get a hit of you with my oxygen, 

In that moment I feel loved,

In that moment I soar higher than I did yesterday, 

In that moment I am complete.


NB: So i’m back in school and tests are around the corner.  I can’t blame that for my sudden onset of love poems though. I couldn’t think of a title for this.

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Posted by on September 6, 2016 in Uncategorized


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Everything has changed

Its me isn’t it?

But it could as well be you,

Or him,

Or this huge secret,

That like an underfed caterpillar, 

Keeps eating at our rapport, 

This secret that makes you turn away when you see me,

That turns our meetings into painfully awkward affairs,

That makes our hugs colder than an iron pole at night, 

God this secret is killing us!

Its killing me.

I’m worried you know, 

That after all we suffer to keep this secret,

He will still find out,

And it will break us all in different ways, 

The weird thing is, 

Even after all this, 

I don’t know if I could ever take it back,

Take back the reason for our secret,

Take back that foolish kiss we shared,

But all I know is,

We keep drifting apart,

Everything has changed.

P.S: just resumed school so I’m still trying to get my school legs.




Never again

Never again
You pause,

Delaying your reaction, 

And in that moment its over,

Once again,



You stand there,

You hide everything, 

No emotions show,

No reactions to their words,

No indication of your deluded belief,

That the last time they hurt you would be the last,

In that moment while your heart breaks,

You are ice, 

Cold and untouchable.

Then you’re alone, 

With the one person you can’t lie to, 


Then the tears come,

Like showers, 

Like a dam bursting, 

And this time you accept the tears,

And as you stitch up your broken heart,

You leave a piece behind,

This time you know that you would gladly go to hell,

If forgiving them was the price of the ticket to heaven,

At least now you’ll never get hurt,

At least now you won’t need them.

N.B: And in that moment when you are let down by the ones you wish wouldn’t do it again, you get the strength to make an important decision,  one you never wanted to make. There really is no turning back now. Goodnight. 



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The story

The story

It really isn’t my story,

But I know I have to tell it,

The same way I didn’t write this song,

But I really must sing it,

Its like a playing a weird game of tag,

But when I decided to play it, 

When I jumped in to push down my end of the circle,

I faltered for a second, 

I lost,

So now I know the words,

There is no one left to speak them,

At least no one I can reach,

So I will speak, 

Not today,

But soon, 

I will speak,

And you will listen,

Not voluntarily,

But you will listen.



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She was the colour red,

Vibrant, passionate, 

Loud, unapologetic, 

Full of big bright red dreams,

And ridiculously easy to piss off,

He was the colour blue,

Steadily fluid, 

Gentle, unassuming, 

Sometimes a bit boring,

But with a comforting presence,

And was a nice contrast,

So he was the buffer.
She was his red,

And he became her blue,

When she faded away,

Blue couldn’t stand to exist,

Not on a pallete that didn’t have red.

So blue faded too,

And purple had to grow up alone,

Without blue and red, 

Without the colours that made him, 

The colours that should have stuck around to raise him,

What’s a secondary colour without its primary?

N.B: A different way to tell a simple yet heartbreaking story. I think writing it like this made it weirdly less painful. No one should have to go through that. Love is always the message. Goodnight


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