Another birthday and the hope for bigger and better. You spend the best years of your life deluding yourself with the shade of not appreciating moments that don’t give you permission to defend why it’s all shit.
Getting older became a pain in the butt when they stopped being fun.
You’re not young enough to be optimistic and you’re not old enough to wonder how many of these are left before you throw in the towel. But — you’re bitchiness is all the reasons why the blessing of getting close to the end of days isn’t exactly the celebration of life.
What does it mean to be alive and breathing?
I used to think you had to be in New York or L.A. and if not then you have to return to Lagos — where it all began — and rejoin the party that commenced on a whim. You grew up there and now it’s suddenly the Mecca of Africa or the city of Africa that everyone needs to baptize with their dollars and the pictorials that serve as the canvas of identification.
To be alive and breathing was a mystery until I left the mold-infested existence and signed up for the simplicity of releasing the chains that hold you in place for the lashings of falsehood — that don’t quit until you stop giving up on yourself.
Suddenly — it’s not where you are but where you need to be.
The heart is an organ of fire. I heard that while watching The English Patient and it stayed with me through thick and thin and I’m sure I will remember it when my breath gives beats a lot of pause in-between.
The day before my birthday — I rallied around family to celebrate the afternoon my niece was born — two years ago.
Since I moved back East — it’s been the thrill of a lifetime to engage with young souls that aren’t tainted by the bullies of our time. Their view is refreshed and safe from pop-ups and the other stuff that cripple the ability to navigate without shedding cells that weren’t meant to break away.
Days before — an angel paid a visit through a random connection that resulted in a generous token for work well played — and the assurance that even when you’re not looking — there are eyeballs lodged in your direction — and when the time is right — the prize is blindingly opulent.
When my six-year-old niece calls my name and gives me words on a page that represent the way she feels when she hears my name — I feel the air escape my lips as my heart swells into recognition of what it means to be at full capacity — and over-flowing.
Birthdays will always request our presence at the day of reckoning when you take charge of what you own and depending on how much time has past — there’s the accumulation of mist — wielding so much over you — if you can’t see the love that needs to be singed into the passageways that keep you alive.
I’m breathing through my heart tonight — in the page holding all that I’m worth and the welcoming valve that is bursting without fear or qualms for what tomorrows won’t find — to keep me whole.
Birthday wishes come true when you create space for the privilege of you — and what that can mean as you light up to the challenge of taking breaks — from reading those words provided by a mind that’s young and honest — and not able to decipher anything else.
The heart is an organ of fire and I’m going to keep breathing.