And so the result came out. My world came crashing. All precautions I took amounted to little or no difference. The preparations I made for almost a year turned into zilch right before my eyes. I had no bruises but I started feeling pains. This cannot be happening to me ; I thought to myself. I deemed it a dream. I would sleep and check when I wake from this nightmare. You failed was the last thing I saw in full glare before I blacked out.
Waking up some two hours later, I was embraced by chills and diaphoresis. This isn’t what I meant when I say I like to cuddle. A wet bed from the salty balls of water that had formed while I was in a different realm wishing away the results I had just seen. Had to procure some medications to break the sudden fever. I became a mere imitation of myself.
Recheck time. I have started my medications by this time. I have had lunch because I cannot die of hunger. Never this; such an excruciating way to wilt away. My condolences to the casualties of the civil war from 1967–1970.
I have always thought of the method that suits me best in my transition from this life to the after-life. I always come to two conclusions . The first, a famous saying by the dwarf Lannister in Game of Thrones : “In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden’s mouth around my cock, at the age of eighty,” he said when grazed with the aura of death. This would be a glorious way to go.
I am Nigerian. I wonder what the economy would be like when I am eighty, considering that it keeps getting worse year after year ?
Would I have a maiden to cater to my needs like Tyrion had in his fictional movie role?
Another pertinent question is would I still be energetic at eighty because Nigeria is deeming this little energy of mine in my late thirties already ?
I hope my maiden would be okay when I stop thrusting and loose all signs of lives. Oh the trauma.
These are the questions that keep rambling on in my mind.
The second way I usually think would be a great way to transition is while eating your best meal. It should be preferably laced with cyanide to make it quick and less painful.
Hard guy, hard guy but pain threshold is in the gutter. All you need to make me worship God in your presence as against the sanctum of the corners of my room is a syringe. At last you would hear a loud gasp with wordings sounding like flesh on a bone; Oh God of the world, the healer of all. I am healed by your name; followed by my usual ceremonial pendulous ass cheeks reassuring my health provider that this would be the last time I attempt to run as the needle comes close to me. I only like Wizkid’s version of come closer by the way . This is the twentieth time already. I can see the frustration in the ball socket of my care giver. Her wrinkle from smiling have evaporated now, the new wrinkles on her face indicate how desperate she is to stab me with her needles. I remember this happened in the past. I have had to be held down on several occasions just to receive adequate treatment. I remember the look on her face as I sauntered out of her consulting room that faithful day. It has inscriptions that said please never come back to me for treatment, you unrepentant time waster. I thought it harsh at the time but I was preoccupied with the pain on my gluteus maximus.
This hard guy really no hard at all, but really what can yard man do. This world is tough already, you cannot afford to have a soft exterior.
Brethren, I digress. Forgive me.
After rechecking the second time, it dawned on me that I had really failed. My time and hard-work wasted. I fell of my cliff of courage. Esteem was ebbing away. Believe me when I tell you I know failure is part of life. However, my knowledge of failure is a bit different from most people. You see to me, failure was another language that people speak. I hear them speak their language but it never registers because I would never take time out to learn the language. In the entirety of my existence, I have never been bilingual. Starting now is simply fallacious and touching on treason to my government of one. Who do I punish ? A question I consider carefully as my dominant hand is itching my barren scalp.
Failure has never really been my thing. It has come close a couple of times but we always had a cordial and mutual respect for each other’s boundaries. I have been invaded despite seemingly doing all the right things according to the United Nations Charter. A lot was riding on this exam. My entire year was hinged around this exam, everything became frail. Unfortunately, it went the other way. All resources looted. Defenses pierced while watching helplessly agape like a door with a broken hinge.
On the other hand, I have always had a close relationship with success. So in a short while, I regained my esteem and confidence on a hundred again. Flying high as always. I believe that was just a temporary setback. How long could I have wallowed in pain and self destruction. I couldn’t wallow for long because I have a great support system. My gratitude goes out to my Family, Tutors ( Dr Ademiluiyi, The Odis’ ) and friends ( Shallom Fucking Lambert — She looks gentle but she breaths fire.. a powerful ally to my government, Victor Odogwu — You would read this and know yourself, Janeth — The always happy friend ) and to so many other people that I do not feel the need to mention. You all make a difference in my life no matter how little. Victor send that plenty pounds. Let me use it to recover brotherly. The people around me give no sympathies, hear no excuse and only want progress. They’re mostly result oriented in all spheres of life.
A conversation with victor or anyone mentioned above could go ….
I failed
Victor : When are you rewriting the exam ?
Shallom : How much do you need ?
Parents : Send your account number and rewrite it tomorrow.
No breathing space to think of your losses.
Top Notch, inspirational, positive minded people.
I do wonder sometimes why I never failed before.
Was I truly gifted and intelligent as I have grown to believe or I never tried to grow beyond my comfort zone ?
After moaning for so long ; definitely not my favorite form of moaning, I decided to pick myself of the ground and try my hands and mind at many things that come my way. Failure should not be an obstruction but a stepping stone. It should not be a stumbling block but a learning point.
Inasmuch as I acknowledge the role of failure in character building, I still hope in the corner of my heart not to build much character from this point.
I am good right now, back on my stallion. Riding the waves of glory again. Picking up my pen again. Appearing on your screens again. I took a pain induced sabbatical from all I love, but yard man’s back.
After all, there is a popular Nigerian saying that goes : Na who give up fuck up.
WE MOVE.
