Where. What.

In a depressed state.

I remember this feeling. 

It was not that long ago when it crept at my shoulders. I felt useless, disdained, a burden. 

I found that these times of spontaneous grief came in brief moments. 

Memories began to flood over me in hordes. Memories in which I was convinced to be forgiven and forgotten were only suppressed and gripped with bitterness blood. 

They arrived before me, one after another.

Soon, I became capable of experiencing a similar discomfort that was brought to me whenever I remembered hiding against the wall of my kitchen about five years back.

"I'm putting you under arrest." Says a cop to my mother after an abrupt violence between my parents.

The pain gradually diminished over a few months of unwanted therapy.

They convinced me to believe I was recovering when all it was were years worth of suppressing horrors and grudges.

I don’t think I can truthfully say I was ever happy.

My mind is in a state of misconception as they say.

I can only faintly remember the days where receding out of existence was not the outweighing option. 

I mean, the good memories still exist.

I still hold dear to the careless days I have spent with a close friend who I will remain unnamed. 

We shared adventures of dragons, super heroes, and fame.

And interests of video games, comics, and anime.

Things aren't the same anymore between us.

Great distance has pulled us apart, yet some thing had been put into existence making us inseparable.

There were other good memories.

But the people who belonged in them had pained me in the end.

Such people and events had tore me apart. Making me more afraid and hateful than before.

Falling in love was one of them.

From the irony of being a young hopeless romantic, I have grown to become a commitment-phobic aromantic nymphomaniac. 

In exaggeration of course.

I lay here upon a beloved stranger’s bed, feeling nothing but anguish that has been rotting me. 

I do not wish to lose him, although it feels that it is already placed somewhere along in the path I am traveling in.

I feel as nothing but a burden as my belongings are scattered within his family's home.

Recently, I’ve left my parents worried and unloved as they had forced me to initiate my own personal choice that had failed to be in their acceptance.

I let bitter words spit from my tongue, liquor touch my lips, smoke to escape in my breath, and my loins touched.

Now I am drunk sober.

Lack of judgement. Lack of motivations. Completely irrational.

The home I left had made me sick, but abandoning it has left me dying. 

It was made clear that any animosity I once thought was pure, was all the result of grudge and anger I left untouched.

Reviews

[Nwanna Onyeka Benedict]

nice work. keep on the good work