Source: In real life she was a police officer who made a lot of people think she was a rapper. Men and women sent gifts and money to her, and even FELL IN LOVE
In real life she was a police officer who made a lot of people think she was a rapper. Men and women sent gifts and money to her, and even FELL IN LOVE
Something to say…
Well, I’d like to say something about drugged so there’s no confusion…
It’s a short story I’m writing about a boy whose mother is a drug addict and can’t provide anything he needs. He’s been bullied at school for a long time as a result of the fact that he looks unkempt most of the time, wearing old clothes and all that. He makes new ‘friends’ who sell drugs and are promiscuous too. His name is Thaddeus by the way. I’m writing this short story not because I want to just tell a story, but because there are children and teenagers among us, on the train, at school ,in church, and every where who are shattered emotionally for some reason. Most times, we either do not notice them or we make fun of them, simply because they are not like us, they’re not normal, they are quiet, or stuff like that. Everyone’s got a struggle, a battle they fight with themselves at night in bed with tear-soaked pillows or none at all, the battles they fight in the bathroom, or even in class. Apart from issues that affect the society at large, A LOT of attention has to be placed on children by their parents ,teachers ,and even friends. That’s why they’re called friends. I know how it feels though; to have feelings and sighs too deep for words.
So there.
Continuation of drugged…
The cold metal of the scissors moved from my hand to my foot, dropping quickly. I looked at myself, and I looked like a full-blown junkie. If by chance any of the guys saw me in my state, they’d make fun of me for the rest of my life. In the mirror, my face looked puffed and I laughed at the thought of Anselm coming in and seeing me cry. I was sure he’d call me something like pussy, or girlie. I pictured it in my minds eye, his drunken laughter,swagger and his bloodshot eyes. I didn’t want to see him again, and I didn’t want to see anyone. I glanced at the bible again, breathing in and out, afraid. My room was silent as a graveyard, but I felt like there was someone in that room sitting down, watching me. I stood and walked towards my bed and stood still, watching the blue book with my name on it, silent. I heard someone knock on my bedroom door. The first knock came softly, then the second hard. Then there was silence, and I heard the shuffling of feet.
Emotionless.
I had orange juice, toast and sour lime for breakfast that morning. Yes, I remember that day so well, I remember the way my body shook, the wetness of my hair. I can still picture my mom then, sitting at the table, watching me take each careful, hungry bite. I pushed my plate away after drinking my orange juice, making sure the last drop got into my mouth. My mom broke the silence finally ‘Are you done now, Teddy?’.I looked at her, and then looked away, saying nothing. I sucked my lime, grimacing at its sourness. ‘Teddy, I said…’ ‘Don’t call me Teddy…mom‘ I said as I gazed into her black eyes. Her pupils dilated. I liked that; I wanted to scare her, to be her very own nightmare. ‘I am your mom, and I will call you anything and everything I like, Ted…’ ‘Let me go mom! What have I done to you again ? You’ve made me afraid all this time, for my life, for my future !!!’ ‘So that gives you the impetus to do skunk or coke?’ she yelled at me. I noticed she was just a few steps from me. I still had the lime in my hand, and so I sucked its juice again. Somewhere in the middle of our argument ,the hot, raw emotions had flooded our veins, had fuelled us…or was it just the weed at work? I remember, I’m emotionless. ‘Mom, impetus, seriously?’ I said, chuckling to myself. ‘…and you went to college. U of M mom…I wish I had good, loving parents like grandma and pa’ I was crying now ‘…instead of you….and that… other man you say is my father…’ I smiled to myself devilishly as I saw her fists curl. ‘That’s if he is my dad’. I walked away and up the stairs to my up side down room. I got on my knees close to my small bed and wept,the tears hot against my skin. I thought I was emotionless…It was all too much, my family, my parents had left me an emotional wreck, and I hated myself and them for it. If only I could change things, switch parents with someone else ,then it would be alright. My head was starting to ache as a result of all the thoughts running through my mind. Thoughts of liberation ,of vengeance, of self-harm. My head was aching. I staggered towards the dressing table and looked at myself in the mirror, trying to twist my mouth into a crooked smile . All the youth of youth had gone out of me. There were sacks, not bags under my brown eyes, my face looked puffed, my eyes red. The metal of the big pair of scissors shone uncannily, as if telling me in a little voice, ‘come…come…’. I stretched out my veiny hands to the scissors, the metal cold against my long fingers. One of my fingernails was broken and had dry blood. Shed more.
I grabbed the scissors and looked into the looking glass, smiling crookedly again. As I raised the scissors to my wrist, I caught a glimpse of my blue bible. The bible grandma gave to me. It had my name on it: Thaddeus Sochima Amadi. When I saw the bible, I remembered the day my grandma gave me. I still could remember, even after the weed and alcohol. The cold metal of the scissors moved from my hand and to my foot…
Okay, so today are my friends’ birthdays (yayyy) and they are both beautiful girls who I love so much and wish the best for ❤
They’re called Kudi and Funmi
For the non-Nigerian reader(s), Kudi is short for Kudirat, an Arabic name which I don’t know the meaning of funny enough *ashamed* but I know Funmi is like a short form of a Yoruba name ‘Oluwafunmilayo’, meaning God gives me joy 😄
May God give everybody joy today and forever!
I just love God, my dad. I shall write about him, about our relationship.
The storybehind
There exists a story behind everything on this planet; in the whole universe I believe. Each time I walk through the campus path littered with either dried or extremely wet leaves, a story is conjured in my head. Maybe not a story, just a paragraph or sentence. Something that could change, move ,inspire, do something or anything. There’s a story behind my smile, behind my writing ,behind the cell phone I’m even using to write this. Most of all, there’s a story behind every one of us, every facial and bodily expression, the way we all talk, our dressing, even the color of our blood.
I feel like we should hear these stories, of people, places, of objects. Stories of people who really exist and those whom the fingers of creativity paint onto our canvas or our Paperline notes. Well, I’d like to write stories about these things, these people we never notice or choose not to, these objects that have powers of altering moods and feelings…
Well Hello There!!!!
Well Hello There!!!!
I’d like to introduce myself first.
To start with, I’m a Nigerian girl who lives somewhere around you *wink*
Well, my name is Chioma…Echebiri
I am a law student at Babcock University
I like white and black, the two true colors…neutral…never partial 😉
I LOVE to write more than anything, its my passion.
I see ideas everywhere, I believe there’s a story behind every action, everybody, every object ,everything…
We all have a story to tell…
If you want your eyes to be opened and your mind expanded ,read something .
Chinua Achebe
And lastly …
Read my blog, please? And be open-minded .
Thankyou very much
Inside and Out. 