Skip to main content

HELLO DARK DIARY By: A. N Opeyemi



Hello dark diary, I know my dark tales would shed more light on who I really am.

DAY 1
I want to be able to scream at the air, laugh at my stupidity and run from everything that has caused me pain till I'm breathless and look at the waves fall in a beautiful abandoned beach with a cool serene sky view.
I want to breathe, I want to live, I want to love.

DAY 2
I want to dig a hole of love and feel it with peace.

DAY 3
Choking on my own unhappiness till I find the air of peace to breathe in, else I'll be left with the death of pain and hurt.

DAY 4
I started hugging myself tightly, crying on my own shoulders, wiping my own tears, pulling myself up from the floors of depression. Then I realized being broken comes with a lot of silence on the outside and so much noise in me.


DAY 5
A night will come where I'll be able to really "sleep" and a morning will come where I'll really "wake" and everything will be so new to me except the meaning of "insomnia".

DAY 6

       I searched through the thorns
       And I found my roses

      Red and bright
      Even in this dark night

      And I'll remember how sweet I smell even without tasting
     For the love of myself is long lasting



DAY 7
    As I saw the beads of my sweat, drop by drop fall down  my greasy for head
    The irregular heartbeat thumping against my chest trying to be set free of this cage
    I kept running past the boring paths of my compound, ran till I thought I had lost all oxygen
    I kept moving, flash backs, flash back of horror. I didn't stop, I kept pushing my already sore and week muscles.
    I kept saying "Be in control" "Don't lose it"


DAY 8
She had cats, lots of them
She's allergic to cats, she doesn't love them
Yet she keeps them
To distract 'them'
From her own den
The den she's dying in
Then den no one noticed
'Cause everyone is too busy
Talking about her numerous cats.....

DAY 9
Hello dark diary,
I counted your letters and wrote to you in 9 days, I know maybe someday, someone will pick you up and go through you out of curiosity.
But would they understand.
If not rather put anyone in confusion.
I would answer the  most likely question and drop a word to give a clue on the meaning of these words

Q:Why are your writings dark?
A:Can you give what you do not have?

DAY 1 Loneliness
DAY 2 Pain
DAY 3 Bitterness
DAY 4 Depression
DAY 5 insomnia
DAY 6 Love
DAY  7 Work out
DAY 8 Distraction









DAY 9: DEATH


  ©A. N Opeyemi

















                                       

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Echoes of My Soul By: Similafleur

Painted their soul with my flowers. Left my prints on their canvas. Their rough lines, I made into edges Cracks I filled with my energy. I wanted them to be art. I made them my art. I gave too much. They left me empty. ©Similafleur

It’s Dangerous to use broom to mash ‘ewedu,’ Gastroenterologist warns

Using a small bunch of broomsticks, known as ijabe, to mash ewedu (mallow-leaves) is very common among Nigerians when preparing the slimy soup. However, medical experts have said that the age-old practice is actually fraught with dangers. Ewedu is also known as Rama ayoyo  among Hausa, while the Igbo call it Kerenkere. Dr. Adegboyega Akere of the Department of Medicine, University College Hospital, Ibadan, on Wednesday, advised women and caterers to desist from the practice. Akere, a Consultant Gastroenterologist, told the News Agency of Nigeria in Ibadan that food handlers should always use blender for ewedu and every other ingredient used in cooking it. “They should not use broom to mash the vegetable,” he said. Akere said this is because ewedu soup that is mashed with broomsticks could still retain splinters of the broom, however minute. He said that when eaten, the splinters from the broomsticks could get trapped inside the oesophagus or the intestine. Akere ...

Painful letters By: Marvee

Every time I feel this way This terrifying kind of pain These twitchy palms and muffled sobs These weakened sights and mindless slob I would think of something To put me at ease, anything At times, to leave my world And be someone else, not a dud Often times I would write on plain sheet Write till my limbs felt weak Write till the page is covered in ink Write till the painful times shift.                                              ©-Marvee