They say you are the month of love.
May your coming be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope I read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks I’m just amazing. Among the carcass of ungodly pleasure, I pray thee rescue me. Don’t let me go to bed without pouring a piece of my heart. For a writer is like a river. That reflects whatever passes before it.
Just after the Xmas break, January felt a loud bang smash across his face. There were promises that didn’t materialize. All the expenses on fees and rent, like a thousand paper cut, slashed the scars open again. Scars that already bled from Christmas shopping.
There were the gruesome crime scenes and political controversies aimed at her heart. They ripped it open in broad daylight. Every time he remembers the losses, it’s like another cut to his already damaged mind. None were enough to kill him but overtime, their accumulation dampened the glee 2018 came with. He was once excited and generous. Now he’s one heave of a long sigh.
But January is dogged. As always.
February please be friendlier.
Oh! There was this girl that proposed to a man in the mall. Once the first tear broke free, the rest followed in a wild chase. It ran from one end of desperation, to rejection and then betrayal. She began to cry like a person vomiting on all fours. My heart still cringe. I hate to see a girl bleed. I don’t care if Onyii Njoku calls me “a feminist”. I hope you give her a reason to smile. Please send this message to her soul ” it’s gonna be alright”. To all my bae who slay their ambition, may love find them in your bossom. To them gentle dudes who are rooting, be their light house.
Somewhere before your final week I hope I surprise myself. Live as much as I can. The things I used to trip on, I hope I walk over them and hear the gravel crunch under my hiking boots.
Can I talk to you in advance?
Written by Crown Nwachukwu
Call her #TeamEbony