Pressure

I said i thrived under pressure, I boasted in my ability to be calm - I swore in the potency of pressure to churn out the best in me, I did, I do, I...

This is not like the pressure I've known, this is not what I'm accustomed to, this is new. This is me under a different kind of  pressure, this is me fighting my addiction, this is me fighting depression, this is me waiting on a doctors report to certify my kidney OK, this is me bare, broken, digging deep. 

I am withdrawing, into myself- I feel the universe is playing tricks on me, it wants me to fail. I am scared of failing, i am at my weakest, this is not me, who is this? Have i lived life for others that i am just discovering myself? 

My electronics are packing up, are? nope - they have, just like that. I really don't know how much more i can take. Under pressure; I'd roll a blunt, I'd swirl the cool calm soothing JD in my mouth but I can't any more; Doctors' orders and God

I am scared, I have to admit to myself, for the first time - I know this thing called fear, is this what it feels like? Gosh, I hate this feeling - It seems only recently have I come alive, only recently have I started living for me, not for them- but me. 

I try to take deep breaths, I try to see the world through rose-coloured glasses, I try to not 'fear'. But I am grateful, I truly am- for family and life. I am not at the edge, or am I?

Pressure; I'd kick this narcotics habit once and for all.. 

Pressure; I'd treat my electronics like things and let them go

Pressure; I'd churn in all my course-works on time.

Pressure; that thing I'd never admit.. Not now, maybe later.. 

2 Corinthians 12: 9 But he said to me, " My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

So this is me - At that point when it's me and God - Again.. I've been here before, but not like this.. This is a new experience, a new process, new.. Pressure, I kinda like it. 

I'm Fine

How i hate that reply.. How are you? 'I'm fine'

11/11/10..  Many of my friends must have benefited from that day, they just don't know

I didn't know you existed till you called one day, i knew i had yoruba cousins, but i didn't know you.. That faithful day in 2004 when you fell out with your father to find us, you insisted, you left Jos, you found us; we became family.. It was either Femi or Emmanuel.. We called you our brother, you were one of my brothers in House 7 and later House 12.

We loved, I love you.. You were my big brother.. It was hard getting into Uni for you, i mean- you were a darn hot head.. The military reject your father called you.. We just told you it was the 'Ohafia' blood in you; the blood of warriors.. But i was in third year, you came to FUTO, to be close to me.. To look after me, your words- not mine..

When i sneezed you were there to say bless you, Deborah (May her soul rest in peace) insisted on meeting the girl who 'stole' her brother .. We hit it off.. You looked at us, your sisters.. You smiled.

In 2006, you called me.. I was in school.. You said.. Deborah is dead, she is in my hands or rather what is left of her, i was bereft.. I said, do i come to Jos, you said - The roads are not safe; i can't lose you both, i'd be back and straight running you did.. People didn't understand it, i didn't but i loved you, i still do.. You called me queen, you held me high. You.

When i was picked by the SS, you found me.. I don't know how.. But you did.. You told them, arrest me instead, let her go write her final exam, she would come back.. Of course i did, it was you.

I left school in 2007, i called you intermittently- When you had issues, i was there. because i loved you, i still do..

In 2008 i saw you after 6 months, but i didn't see you, i saw a form- your form.. It wasn't you. It wasn't the same guy who drilled a boy because he 'tapped' me too hard. It wasn't my Femi, it wasn't my brother..

You were gaunt, i looked into your eyes, I saw your soul, dark, lost, empty.  We were at Eddie's wedding, I didn't smile, I couldn't, I feigned a headache, I sat and the car and cried. I cried Femi, I cried.. I told our mother, I told your mother.. They said you were 'fine' - He is a Man, it is nothing.

How those words haunt me, how i don't take anything for granted, how i care all too deeply, Even for people i might never meet.

On 11/11/10. They sat at the edge of my bed, not knowing how to form the words. Searching they finally said it: Emmanuel is dead. I laughed Emmanuel, Femi i laughed.. They didn't know what they were talking about. I called your number 08023067168, I still remember. You didn't pick.

I slept 5 hours, first time in my 72 hours without sleep it was.. I slept, woke up and asked .. How?

Then they shattered my being, the very essence of you, they broke me, but you see - i didn't cry.

You took a life that wasn't yours to take, from the 3rd floor of your building in Wuse whilst your mother was in the kitchen..

Suicide.

Femi, My man there.. You took your life? A man, is still 'just' a man no matter how many demons he has fought; you used to say...

Femi.. My man there, Egede 1.. He who faces pure evil and doesn't dance on his toes because his heels are planted in concrete...

Femi? How are you?

Femi? My man there...

Emmanuel Eniola, Rest in Peace

Noise

Sometimes it just gets really noisy in my head, too noisy for logical thoughts, too noisy for common sense, too noisy for me.

I am not sure what i used to do, well  i know... But i can't escape anymore, i don't have the means to seek oblivion, well.. I could, but i can't . My escape used to be found rolled in a blunt.. The Lord, HE who i drag this self has placed palpitations between i and a blunt. So no more..

The noise scares me, the noise is me. I may not make as much sense as i should, but writing about this noise helps me.

I should not write, i should maybe, well i am rambling. That is what this is. This noise draws me away from people. It is the noise of me struggling with self. It is the noise of the tango i dance with my Father every time.

It is me knowing i have strayed too far. It is the noise of 'defiance'. He has got me where HE wants me, on my knees..But i struggle with HIM.. Noise.

I created this Noise, to block out HIS voice.. I can't anymore. It is the voice i've known ever since i was 9, it is the voice that said you will be fine. But i struggle, Why?

I need to step away from the Noise. To be with my Father.. I need to hear HIS voice, to tell me it is fine..  It has been awhile..

So i would cry, not in tears that are seen, i would bleed, not from my veins but in my heart, away from the noise. My soul knows, my soul yearns, i would lock myself and listen.

My father who art in Heaven, i have stepped away from the noise..
I am here, what would you have me do...

Static... no noise, Peace, No noise..

Shhhhhhhhhhh.. It is clear...