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“So! The word of the year isn’t actually a word and the woman of the year isn’t actually a woman. Is 2015 at least actually a year?” – @Zeenike

Well, in the very unemotional words of our dear Rosa Parks, Nah. Because when the roll-call for great years was called, 2015 was nowhere to be found.

“2015! 2015 oo!!” Silence. No response. Nothing. The year just refused to happen.

From the wishes that refused to become plans, to the actions that refused to yield results, it just didn’t happen.

I didn’t have to pay extra tuition fees due to an ICT officer’s mistake which robbed me of an otherwise timely certificate. I was not daily trying not to go extinct while struggling to complete 2 postgraduate degrees simultaneously. It didn’t happen that I wasted time wishing that a certain man wanted more from life than just being a free-spirit. It didn’t happen that I and my manager at work walked out of a meeting to find that he had suddenly been transferred with no immediate succession plan; suddenly leaving me as an accidental unit head, forcing me to make decisions as if I have 17 additional years of experience, attend meetings I didn’t have enough time for. I definitely didn’t stagger home almost lifeless every day from the workload. It didn’t happen too that when eventually a new manager was deployed to my unit, he turned out to be an absolute gremlin. If that happened, my colleagues wouldn’t have been commiserating with me on the stairways for my hard luck; concern in their mouths, mockery in their eyes. Gosh.

I was so tired. All year round, I was always so tired. I attempted to start a business, but how do I say I suspended it because I was always tired. Of course that can’t happen. And it didn’t happen too that I spent weeks upon weeks seeing doctors upon doctors, getting tests upon tests for all of the physiological pain upon pain that I couldn’t ignore, having doctors go wows and ohs at the symptoms. My body didn’t try to betray me. Nah. If the year happened, my dearly beloved granddad would have stayed alive, at least for Mammii’s sake. And it of course didn’t happen that I felt physical pain when a taken person declared a love that will never belong to me for me. I didn’t ache seeing the panic in his eyes, knowing that on another planet, or in another life, I’d have been able to embrace him. No, not a pinch was felt, and I didn’t even keep wondering what my contributing factor was, because certainly this year didn’t happen. If it did happen, I’d finally have the things and people that I deserve, I won’t have laid in different nice hotel rooms and dingy lodges too, feeling exactly the same hollow way, wondering when my life will be okay.

This year, I went to church so much. From the day I walked in to pay my tithe on a Monday, and met them having a service, and stayed, the church became my strength. Every week from thence began on Monday evenings. Like, ‘no church on Monday evening, no week’.

This year showed me that sometimes, goodbye comes almost immediately after the first hello; why else would I have spent 8 days in 7 different states across the South South, South West, North Central and North West?!

This year showed me that in spite of all the steadiness of your income, it’s possible to be broke more than half of the year if the ones you care most for are in grave, honest need. It showed me that being great and loved at my job won’t be enough to get me a perfect score during appraisals.

This year I woke up in places I should never have taken trips to, hovering over the possibility of a dna test, hovering over another person’s dirty bathroom, over others’ lack of thoughtfulness and when I decided to pause and re-choose, I chose me. Over and above everything or person that didn’t satisfy my soul, I chose me. I quit taking over people’s lives, uninvited. I chose me. I let go of all that refused to be mine. I chose me and relieved my ankles of all shackles.

In fact in my book of years, this wasn’t a difficult one, it was the ‘error 404-not found one’. It was this year my green leaves got some unfortunate brown spotting, that the numb of the last got some feels. It was this year that I kept praying for beams but I instead got rays, faint rays. It was the year when I craved for yellow, but I kept getting swept below. It was the year Ms. Adele finally decided to say ‘hello’, but for the first time in my life, I’m spending Christmas far away from my father’s house because I didn’t want to go ‘home’.

If I could sit life down and speak to it face to face, I’d ask that it puts its guns and weapons of warfare down. I’d show my hands, and my hard work, I’d show my heart and my God, because I’m just fucking exhausted. It’s been way too fucking tiring being tied and tried.

But you see, they who said opportunity comes only once also said there’s no limit to the amount of chances we need to take at life, hence why I’m ready for the next, hence my walls are freshly done and my floors neatly scrubbed. Like Aron Wright said, you always build it better the second time around. And I want to. And I will. And I will never forget that sometimes, knowing so much gets you so little, sometimes, perfection gets you only scraps and sometimes, love will bring death along with the life it brings.

So while stubbornly looking up to Jesus, to finish my faith with manifestation, I’d be leaving this year rayban-ed to the pain, the ache, the lethargy, the too frequent financial stretches, and the imagined aroma of the jollof rice I’d have been turning right now on the firewood with family..

Have a Christmas as merry as you require.

With love; the kind that stays, lights; the kind that glows, and hope; the kind that can’t ever be snatched.



2015 did not happen please. And no, I did not read this review :p

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