The world itself has a room for everybody entering the door. Every room has a story with whoever places their feet in. The world shows cases of people being lovelorn, nightmares, demons and a black sheep of the world.

From my childhood, love couldn’t paint a picture for my narrative. The tears I cry can grow a plant, and quench the thirst of a cow. I received insults from my father while he gave my so-called ‘friends’ compliments. I went on the road to seek love from any man, but no man fed my childhood with love. Not even a woman or girl wanted to feed me with love. They say grannies have love for their grandchildren, surely I wasn’t their favourite. With a dark cloud above my head, there was no rainfall to accompany my tears.

Nightmares visiting my dreams. Going to sleep is not easy for me, I always need to gather the gut to bed. Night time is not my friend, as I dream about snakes chasing me. Some days, I see a thug putting a bullet straight to my forehead. Sleeping is a battle and is detrimental to my being. Waking up is a victory because some nightmares hold me hostage, preventing me from wake up. Morning comes with a charge, a victory to be alive because I get nightmares of witches chocking my neck and paralysing my body. Sleep is indeed the cousin of death. I dream about the funeral of my father and aunt. I see myself surrounded by blood, crying nonstop, fighting with my friends and going toe-to-toe with witches.

My life is accompanied by demons. People may say l like being left alone, but I only know that am I not alone as I’m always with my demons. I fight my demons day and night. They eat my happiness and the little love I get, leaving me with me with none of the two. They swallow my strength and ability and leave me weak, fragile and vulnerable. I worry a lot thinking suicide is the only option to end my misery. I hear voices saying I don’t belong in this world, saying I disturb the view of the people who’re watching my miserable life. These demons nudge me to agree with them that I’m misplaced here on earth. They feed me with suicidal thoughts, and point a knife to my heart.

A black sheep of the world. I am an embarrassment to my family, no one want to give me attention or hear my weeping. The love of my parents is invisible to my heart and eyes. My siblings can tell a story about the love they get, but I will not leave an ink on the paper. Orphans get loved and are people’s favourites, but why I was placed at home and in the world without love? No one wants to be with a black sheep or lend me an ear to hear my misery. I suffer alone, get punishments for being innocent and I pay for other people’s sins.

It’s not a choice or my ability to be on the doorstep of this world. To live is to feel, see, suffer and witness the darkness of the world. I will embrace every punishment and pain – if I see another day.


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