The Poem

Isn’t it funny how a total stranger suddenly becomes your favourite person in a matter of minutes? You want to know everything about them, from their favourite things to do to the size of their small intestine.

In the new world you’ve created with stranger turned “fave,” time is non-existent. They become the God you pray to, day and night. They become the memes you never knew you needed to make you laugh. They become the priest who patiently listens to your wrongs and grants you penance. They become the monastery that gives you space to reflect and gain clarity.

A minute becomes a week. One week graduates to a month. Several months come and go, and as usual, fave begins to fade into stranger once again.

The frequency of chats drops drastically. You no longer send each other random things. Slowly, the fire burns out. Slowly, the colour fades. Slowly, another one falls and bites the dust. You’ve once again lost another beautiful relationship. And again, you rinse and repeat because the cycle must continue.

You are not about making people stay. You are about experiencing them. So, if they stay, to God be the glory. If they fade, you hold on to the happiness they brought you and thank God for making them star in your journey.

On this note, shall we drink to meeting more strangers who may fade or stay? Cos, I will.

The Story

This piece was inspired by the many amazing people who have come into and left my life, but the two amazing people I connected with in 2022 had the most influence.

For the first time in my life, I was forced to be intentional about a relationship. Let me explain. I can be very lax regarding relationships, not because I don’t care but because I’m big on never forcing things or begging people to stay. Or maybe I’m just really lazy.

I could talk about you all day and year to people about how much of an amazing person you are and how much I really like you. I could think of you occasionally, hoping you are fine and whisper a prayer for you to God. I could really, really, really like you and would always be prepared to catch you, give you my ears and shoulders, and make sacrifices for you.

I could do all of that and not talk to you for several months. I know, I know. My actions don’t match my words. However, I don’t throw the words “I love you” around recklessly. When I say them, you better believe that I actually do. I know my actions often contradict them, but please, believe me when I tell you those words.

I conversed with one of the two amazing people I mentioned earlier when we were growing apart. I said I don’t consider myself a ride-or-die friend. “I am a die-or-die friend.” That sounds ridiculous, right? I may not necessarily ride with you and be actively present when I’m certain you are good or want to do fun things. Still, you can always count on me to show up on dreary days or days when you need support or someone to listen to you. You can always bank on my loyalty.

I don’t know if that is a bad thing, but I realized that’s the kind of friend I am after some reflection.

Amazing Person One

Like I said earlier, I tried to save a relationship for the first time in my life. I dropped the “if it slips, it slips” attitude. Why did I care so much about this relationship? Why did I care so much? I’ll tell you.

I met my friend through a friend who thought, “Oh, you two will get along well,” because we had similar interests, and above all, we are both lovers of Lady CNA. He calls her his mama; I call her my dear friend. Before we became friends, I was a fan. I admired his thought process and how he strung words together to express his thoughts. The first time we met, we immediately clicked. It honestly didn’t feel like the first time.

You wouldn’t believe where we had our first “date.” I smile as I write. It was nothing fancy, and we only spent money on transportation, and, oh boy, I didn’t want to return home. We talked about mermaids and other nonsense while being mesmerized by the beauty of the sea and fascinated by the lifestyle of the crabs.

He came into my life, and I knew I wanted it to last forever. Our friendship, for me, was wholesome. It was the first of its kind for me; the kind I’ve only read about in books and seen in movies. It was beautiful and new to me. Maybe not to him. I would like to describe it in more detail, but that is too much Information.

Perhaps I’m just guarding the pricelessness of it all by having the picture to myself alone.

The random thoughtful SMS that made my heart warm and made me smile or fold myself like a fetus under my duvet while reading. The late-night calls. The most random pictures and excerpts from books and articles. The photography analysis. The plans. I was supposed to be his photography muse, but the timekeeper for relationships came and said “time up” before we could do all of that (this can still happen sha).

You see why I was willing to fight for this one, even if it felt awkward?

It wasn’t the butterfly kind of relationship. It was just beautiful. Lord knows I tried, but I couldn’t keep up. That is fine. I speak like we are no longer in each other’s lives, but we are, although things are not quite the same. This, too, is fine, because other people deserve to experience him the way I did. I may not have him forever, but I will have memories of the moments with him forever. I will always remember him the same way, whether we talk daily or twice a year.

Gotten from one of my favourite Instagram pages

Amazing Person Two

God threw this one into my life at the perfect time. He was my shoulder to lean and cry on. This one would get on a call with me every day just to hear me rant and be silly until we stopped calling each other. For some reason, he was my safe space. I let myself be vulnerable around him, and I was more of a talker than a listener (which is usually not the case with most people).

I liked this one. I really did; he felt like a female version of myself to an extent. For the many times my frequency of sharing pictures on social media dropped, he caused it. His DM was my new Whatsapp story.

Life was good. Everything was in bright colours and beautiful melodies until the bell struck again. We went from being each other’s oxygen to going several hours without talking. I never knew I had it in me to talk to someone throughout the day via texts and still have lengthy daily calls (I was shocked to find out I wasn’t tired or bored).

So imagine what it was like breaking out of the habit. He had become a part of my lifestyle, but me being me, I adapted quickly to living without oxygen. You want to know how I move on quickly from people? I always expect it to happen, and when it doesn’t happen as soon as expected, I raise a brow cos did the timekeeper fall asleep? While I can be an optimistic person, I love being realistic, which might make me come off as a pessimist.

Like with person one, we are still in each other’s lives, just not as present as before. I must admit that the “fave period” lasted way longer than predicted. I enjoyed every moment, every single one, and I miss those days.

Conclusion

You know, I’m thankful for my friends. I’ve been blessed with a couple of intentional people. If not for them, I’d most likely have zero friends because of my laxity towards relationships. It’s almost like I don’t care much for people; good if they are there. If they aren’t, still good. I know that sounds pathetic. So here’s me saying thank you to those who remain present despite all the weirdness and distance I create. I’m also thankful for friends and acquaintances who constantly, with their actions and availability, remind me that it’s okay to not do life alone.

I am that person who loves to know they are wanted before they make themselves available. One who likes to be assured they aren’t a bother. They match the energy you give. They have an ego bigger than their need for love/attention/affection. They’d rather live and die alone than be where they perceive they are unwanted or considered a bother, even if that is a misinterpretation on their part.

So to have them, you have to make it known that you want them because even when you aren’t tired of them, they will make that decision for you and make themselves distant, especially when you stop doing certain things you used to do. They don’t wait to be thrown out; they throw themselves out first before giving you a chance.

I am that person. I am they. I am them. Talk about asking for what I can’t really give… The Irony, ehn? I know. I know. I don’t accept half-bread; I never will. You always have to come correct and complete cos this girl doesn’t know how to run and has no power to raise the dead. It’s sad that I get more emotionally attached to things and places than to people. It has saved me from many emotional heartaches and disappointments.

For faves who stayed and faves who faded, I am genuinely grateful. Nothing lasts forever, after all. I promise you that I am no sadist, just a realist.

Can you relate to the stranger cycle story, and how do you handle it?

Part One: Dear Young Girl

I see it. I feel it. The pressure to be like certain people you think are the standard.

**Hairstyle was inspired by your mother, my dear friend, Dr. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.**

You want to think and act like them in certain situations. You want to emulate their style and even their personality. You forget they were once youths. You forget they were once foolish and probably wild.

You forget you’re in your 20s. You forget you’ll never be twenty again. You don’t want to look back and wish you had done things differently, right?

You are just eighteen or maybe a teen, but you want to be Chimamanda so bad because you admire her poise and eloquence. Don’t you think she was once a teen and eighteen too? Don’t you think she’d advise you to live in the moment? I don’t know, but I think she would.

You want to be ‘decent’ like Madam Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala and cover up in the queen’s suits and hats. You want to be swallowed up in a skirt and blouse big enough to accommodate three and start tying the signature scarf, too, just because you think that’s the only way to greatness.

May I ask what decency is to you?

Do you realise Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala was a teen and eighteen like you? She once wore skimpies, and she let the wind raise her dress a little higher, too, don’t you think?

Anyway, I do not know about these women enough to speak for them. They haven’t bared their soul to me like mama Maya did. You know Maya Angelou, right?

Here’s what she’d say to you: “Darling, you are eighteen and young. You are twenty and wild. Go get life. Make those mistakes. Be foolish now that you can afford to. Cos foolishness in your teens and twenties is easily pardonable. Live your truth.” How do I know this? I am her daughter, and she wrote me a letter just as I’m writing you this.

**A letter from my mother, Maya Angelou.**

Wear that dress. Be impulsive if you want. You might decide to take it a notch higher and get a child out of wedlock (just kidding. We do not recommend).

You will never be her. So just stick to you. You know how to do “you” best. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t be hard on yourself. Your role models have walked this same path. They’ve made unwise decisions. They’ve also had things slow at some point in their lives. They didn’t always win in life. So enjoy the moment, darling. Enjoy your youth. Trust God. Trust the process.

Part Two: Let’s Call This an Epilogue

I felt the strong urge to write this when I was browsing the internet and realised a lot of young girls are trying so hard to be their role models that they forget to be young and be themselves.

They want to emulate established public figures in entertainment and their lifestyle. They forget that these people started with okrika and mismatched fashion before they could afford the luxury they own now. They forget that these people have had moments of wanting to figure out who they really were and what they wanted.

This is not to mislead people to be ‘immoral,’ constantly make bad decisions, or anything like that. This is me saying, ask yourself, “Do I want this?” This is me saying, It’s okay to make a few bad or unsure decisions.

Bimpe, are you really against ashewo dresses because it’s not your thing? Or is it because you do not have the courage to deal with the judging eyes of your neighbours whose morally-upright daughter does things even darkness cannot speak of? Let me guess; it is because your 73-year-old idol doesn’t wear them.

Role models are good, but in the process of imbibing some traits you consider positive or attractive, do not lose yourself.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to wear a robe permanently. With not attending parties or reading books. No, there’s nothing wrong with not doing what people think is popular. I’m just checking with you to see if it’s what you really want and you not doing it out of fear of X.

Keep a bare face if you wish. Oh, you prefer to always wear make-up? Then what’s stopping you? Tight and short clothes make you uncomfortable? Then why do you wear them, Bimpe? Is it the pressure that is getting wersser?

Dear young girl, do things at your pace. If you dislike drinking or wearing accessories, stand your ground. Don’t let anyone make you feel like an outcast. Whatever you do, do it because it is what you want. Do it with your full chest, it doesn’t matter if it is big or small.

Dear Bimpe, live! The world will definitely adjust; so far, your actions do not endanger your life and that of others. And if the world refuses to adjust, I hope they have enough needles and thread to keep mending their clothes to fit due to undesired weight loss.

Posts in Poetry or Something Like That

The Stranger Cycle Story