Rehab

Tags

addiction, Facebook, intsgram, rehabilitation, twitter

Maybe if I write it down it will go away

That’s what is said to myself last night, after I typed that message to you and deleted it the next second without sending.

I was fighting the urge to contact you and I got a taste of what it takes to resist temptation.

My saving grace came in the form of sleep. Oh sweet, blessed, reliable sleep that takes everything away (even though temporarily).

Sleep saved me last night. I don’t know about today. But I guess I’ll just take it one second at a time.

Now I know what addicts go through during rehabilitation. Yes addicts, because I’m one and my addiction is you.

I’m trying to cure this addiction the hard way and I the only way I can think of.

I was on my own living my life in peace when you came out of nowhere and liked all my photos on instagram, followed me on twitter and sent a friend request on facebook. I thought it was a lot of effort to get my attention so I decided to let you in on BBM when you asked.

Since then talking to you has been the highlight of my day. My real vacation,away from work as I didn’t get to have a real one. We moved seamlessly into phone calls, facetime  and skype and went through everyday together even though you lived miles away in Bayelsa.

I opened up and took a loooong drag of you and I’ve been in seventh heaven ever since.

One dose first thing in the morning, another dose last thing at night and a lot more in between.

I felt like I had found my own specially made square hole (this square peg’s been hitting too many round holes lately).

Remember that night we were talking and you told me the reason you were single is because the girl you liked lived far away in Lagos and long distance isn’t your thing?

I said to myself: what the heck are you doing talking to me then?

I don’t know which one hurt the most: the fact that there was a girl you liked or that you weren’t into long distance relationships.   I was dazed for a second after you said that them a lump started to grow in my throat, it got so big I had to run to the bathroom to cry because my mum was in my room watching TV.

That is when I made the decision to quit you.

It’s been 3 days since I took you off my BBM list with the excuse that my phone had issues and I feel like hell.

I’ve been a junkie fighting the urge to call you every since. I need a fix right now. But I’ll pass.

You have my number and can call whenever. I’m still trying to find the strength to ignore those calls.

I hope to get there soon.

Right now I’m in rehab and it sucks, I’m having withdrawal symptoms but I’ll be fine soon.

I know.

Story Story

Tags

dreams, flat mate, love, taylor swift, tear drops in my guitar

We are flat mates in a two bedroom flat. I don’t know what your room looks like, I didn’t go in there. My room is small but cozy. It has a big bed. The bed has a beautiful rich dark brown wooden headboard with intricate designs woven it it. The walls are very pale pink color, so pale you could almost mistake it for white.  The sheets are white just like I like them and tightly tucked into the corners of the bed creating a creaseless surface that will make you want to like on it immediately you see it.

For some reason I do not sleep in my room. I sleep on the couch in the sitting room. The couch is facing the door leading to the bedroom; a good spot to sit and watch visitors flock to your room. I watch as relative after relative comes to visit you and your fiancée living in the next room. Your mum comes, your Dad comes, your sister comes, and some women come. I don’t know who they are probably your fiancée’s aunties or yours. I get my own share of visitors too. My mum visits, my sister and her daughter: my niece is there too. She is four years old and she is sitting down on the couch with me sipping on a pack of Capri’sone.  Then she pops one of those questions directed at her mother that leaves my sister clueless for a minute about how to answer a four year old. She pauses for a second and decides to respond with a lie. That seems to satisfy my curious niece but makes my mother frown and give my sister the warning look that says “ don’t lie to my grandchild”. My sister shrugs and the conversation between us continues.  I am telling her about my flat mate’s upcoming wedding and how only a moment ago, feeling the need to urinate I walk into the bathroom forgetting to knock and I barge into you doing your business.  You look up alarmed and apologize, My face flushes with hot embarrassment and I retreat as fast as I can (No he was not naked!  He was wearing a boxer and a white vest). It was funny when I was recounting the incident to my sister but at that moment it was happening, it wasn’t.

Your sister walks in and we hug. Though older, she is my friend. We do a little chit chat and we talk about you and the soon to be Mrs.  We talk about you some more how kind you are, how you love kids and then I tell her the only shortcoming I see in you si that you are too laid back, not a go getter (that’s how I think you didn’t get enough courage to come get me). She says: “Can you do me favor and share this weakness of my brothers’ with his fiancée? (In my mind my eyes are rolling and I’m screaming: No way!!!)  I just smile and say I think she already knows that if she is going to marry him.( weird conversation I know).

She asks me to accompany her and we go to your fiancées office. I didn’t hesitate to go because I was curious; I wanted to see the lucky girl that got what I wanted so badly. To asses her, check her out, look her over, what’s she got?  Her desk is on the third floor. We got there and to my disappointment she is not on seat. Strangely her Dad is. He is sitting waiting for her. We do not wait  we head back down the stairs the way we came and I notice she works in the same bank as my friend Lola. Lola is in internal audit and moves round different branches. I make a mental note to ask Lola if she knew her in a bid to get more  scoop on this girl.

We are in the first floor and I am staring at the inscription of the bank’s name on the wall on the first floor   when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs.  I look down and there she is coming up the stairs with her hands full of files. Don’t ask me how I know it was her, I just knew.  She is not tall, she is petite, light skinned and pretty. I try to swallow the lump that that suddenly forms in my throat. I want to hate her but I cannot. It’s not just in my nature. I remember tailor swift’s “tear drops in my guitar”. The part where she goes like “ I’ll bet she’s beautiful, that girl he talks about, and she’s got everything that I have to live without” I force down the tears and try not to blink too much. I read somewhere that that’s how you stop the tears from falling.

Our eyes meet and she smiles that’s the part where I wake up in my room  with the pink and white flowered sheets and my  two tone purple and baby pink colored walls. I reach for my phone and I check the time, its 2:35am. I look across the room at the blue colored fabric sitting on the chair where I left it some six hours before , the ashebi for the wedding which I just collected from his sister yesterday. I sigh.

Looking up I say: God why are you haunting me with these dreams? Isn’t it time it stopped?  I remember the first one 4 years ago in which we were in love and the feelings I had in those dreams were so beautiful   it was painful for me to wake up.  The second one was two years later and right after, the very next day I saw him at a concert and I taught to myself God must be telling me something but then it didn’t happen.

Today it is four years since we first met and Yes He is getting married in a month’s time to another girl, No, we never dated . Yes I told him how I felt and regretted it right after I did. No he is not my flat mate, Yes, his sister is my friend. No I haven’t met the bride yet.