Have you ever felt a connection with someone? So deep, so strong. It makes you want to become the very air they breathe, the very sun that touches them. You want to be in their blood, in their thoughts, in their very core. Its reckless, dangerous. Very funny thing it is.

Or sometimes you see a person that someone said was gorgeous but they don’t quite do it for you, you know. Like when you have an almost full glass. Its way past half but not quite full; like when you fall two marks short of an A.They almost make it like that, but not really but beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder they say.

Other times though a person just appeals to you for no reason. Not anything to do with exceptional physical features too. You don’t know what it is but it is. Like an itch in your throat that you can’t scratch. It is there, something quite inexplicable. You feel it, you know it, but you just can’t explain it.Guess it’s one of those things that make us human, the unpredictability of it all.

And sometimes you get thoughts like these and you think you should keep them to yourself but they won’t stay quiet. They come to sing in your ears when you try to sleep and they bother your every waking moment. So you finally agree to give them life but sometimes these thoughts are dark and scary. So dark you wonder where they come from. Those are the ones you ignore no matter how loud they sing or how long they whine, they remain banished, condemned to die a slow quiet death; but they have strong souls, resilient and stubborn. Maybe one day I’ll visit them.

Have you ever felt teleported while you read a story? You are there with Robinson Crusoe while he saves Friday, edging him on with your silent, invisible support. You can feel Jane Eyre’s pain as she watches Helen die, stretching out your hand to enclose her slim ones. I’ve always loved the wonder of stories. It’s time travel on an entirely different level but sometimes, you know, I just wonder where this country is going and I refuse to believe the myth that there was ever a time Nigeria had direction.

Like when I read about something that happened in the last century and see how close a resemblance it bears to what we still face on a daily basis. The state of universities for instance. The “fine boys” and I wonder if I would have it better if I were born elsewhere or if I could go elsewhere. But sometimes I don’t see the point. If I can survive here, I tell myself, I can make it anywhere. So I keep fighting. Because that’s what life is  for an average Nigerian. A long, long fight where you rarely make it to the end old and worn and get to recount your tales of woe.

Have you ever gotten halfway through a knotty problem and felt like giving up? Like when you mess up a ball of string and just want to cut the knots out? Like when you’re making plans for something but it doesn’t seem to come together so you just wanna shove it all out the window? Like when at some point in an argument, you lose patience and wonder why you ever bothered trying to convince the other party? But something keeps driving you, could be focus, an higher purpose, or just plain old stubbornness. You just have to make it to the end.

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