Delight Chilegide Olumati

I engaged myself in a random conversation with my other self, my best friend.
I made it clear that a wanna be and monarchy are not the same thing and yeah, she understood me.
I am an example of a wanna be and the resounding names are the monarchy.
I’ve stepped on reasons to cut me quit and times to hold me from breathing.
I’ve had features of anxiety and more to cut me shut of sanity.
I–I went on and on.

I smile not because I am happy but I do so because this life has been even before me.
Like they say, “problem no dey finish”
and that hit harder when yours is just starting.

My best friend would often tell me,
now matters than ever and never hold back from choosing you, ever.
Because if you break down the earth wouldn’t shut down.
It’d move like you never even existed, they’d miss you, but just for a second.
You’d go, like others, your memories would fade.

She’d continue with words of wisdom,
and a sticker to blend the vision.

She’s special, she really is.

In the course of the conversation we’d hit points that gets everyone on their toes,
like matters that meant the world to people of old,
we would discuss and place the addition symbol where it belongs.
And the subtraction is not exempted.

I’d keep quiet to let her intermediary sighs sink in,
I’d look to her to understand the kind of blink she’s making,
if it’s those kind that hit differently or it is the same as I’ve always seen.
I’d let her body speak.

She’d most likely not smile,
but when she does, it takes over a certain spot.

“Hey,
I am numb, I am stuck between here and there,
don’t get tired of me, don’t, just stick by me and I’d be fine,
I don’t know, but somehow I’d be.”

I repeat those words when it gets too much.

And just like always she’d spit words to calm my nerves,
words pregnant of reassurances,
she’d push them all out with no surgery,
she’d pamper them so it doesn’t hurt.

Every damn time I engage myself in a conversation with her, my other self.
I feel the strength to carry on.

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