atoms&void

I make friends with people for the smallest reasons and I thought it was worth writing about. My social skills are surprisingly high. I don't like crowds but at the same time, I can randomly walk up to anyone just to tell them I like the color of their shirt. I'm one of those persons that enjoys watering people with compliments, even if I don't know them. I like people and I also do not like people. Sometimes, I feel like I'm a contradiction to myself. I feel a lot. You can even say I'm a FILA . Also, I am very very horrible at making puns. I get shy sometimes but the gra-gra quality in me will not let me give it away. I grew up in Sapele. People who come from here are not soft and amicable. So it grew on me. I could come off as rude but in my own defense, I'd say I was only trying to defend myself. You know, in these parts, you always have to expect danger. So, how I am able to make friends with people still baffles me. The most recent of those-fri...

When I was five years old, my mother was critically ill. She was in and out of the hospital like a clumsy drug dealer going in and out of jail. She was always weak and could not even bring herself to bath her own body. She was sick for over a year. Here's the full story, but at some point, everything will begin to fade away. In the middle of the night, a day after I had just turned six, I was awakened by the sounds of people shouting. They were calling Jesus and asking Him to come and take control. My elder sister, Sister Kim, was also crying and praying. I had never seen her pray before in my whole life. I walked up to where they were gathered and I saw my mummy in the middle. She was lying on the floor and blood was coming out of her mouth so I began shouting "Mummy! Mummy!" My daddy saw me and immediately told me to go to the room. So I did as I was told. On my way to the room, I heard Papa Maro, our neighbor, saying "I still have fuel in my okada, let us ...

6:45AM On a Thursday morning, I wake up feeling grunted. In my sleep, I dreamt about this; A Pastor walks up to me after church. He tells me he wants go speak with me and he even calls my father to join in on the conversation.  He tells me I am too young to die. He says all the money my father has spent on training me through school cannot go down the drain. He shakes his head, he feels bitter. He frowns so hard that lines appears on his face. Then he says 'we need to kill a cow for sacrifice, otherwise she would kill herself. She would commit suicide.' My father is displeased. He orders that a cow be brought forth for the sacrifice. They do as he says.  The Pastor takes off his shirt and bounces on the cow with a sharp cutlass. There is blood everywhere and surprisingly, the cow didn't rascal before falling to the ground and dying on the spot. It bleeds to death and then the pastor friend says 'She is no longer going to die but do watch her intently.' * My phone is...