“I loathe my very life; therefore I will give free rein to my complaint and speak out in the bitterness of my soul.” Job 10:1 [NIV]
You’re sad. You wake up at home.
There’s a chilliness in the air, between the people. It’s the late dry season occasioned by aridity. Dry lips, not quite cracked; empty surroundings, hot walls. It’s December, it’s harmattan, it’s ugly.
You’re home from school five states away, back home, but a stranger in your own house. You know the tale of these walls, how, when they were built. How one of the bricklayers was a fast talking Igbo man. "Apkiri tomtom" he used to say. You remember the neighbors of old, the aloof relationship you used to and still have with them. You remember the man down the street from your house that sold his V Boot Mercedes for twenty thousand naira and his wife and children that don’t respect him. Nothing is fainter than memory but you remember.
You wake up and you’re at home.
Your parents love you and you think you do, you’d be sad if anything happened to them but you can’t really talk to them, you would only break each other’s hearts. Your relationship with your siblings is failing. Your more housemates than brother and sister. You suspect the true characters of each other and respect their charade enough. You want to be closer to them but you simply do not know how to. You bring up common interests but it passes. You engage conversations but they pass. You know you should talk more, fight more, laugh more but there’s a space. I know this because you know this.
You wake up blue.
There’s a general causeless unhappiness in you. Or maybe there is reason. Maybe you are living in a desultory manner. Maybe you try to do barely enough and it isn’t. Maybe you know your problem but are loathe to fix it. Maybe you feel melancholy because you are your own problem.You are definitely spiraling without help.
You wake up at home, again.
You willingly go looking for bread you may not eat because it will take you away from home. It will remove you from feeling worse, terrible, without purpose or love. Buying bread will give meaning to your life. You happily leave, taking a taxi, crossing the road with vigour or happiness. Maybe you’ll meet someone new. You don’t. I know this because you know this.
This is how we are.
