Here I am, naked like the fire on a burning candle, nothing to shield my fire from catching people or anything that comes my way, nothing to protect it from getting quenched. This is why I would thread carefully but still bare it all and say it as it is.
Where should we begin? Let’s begin with childhood, I was the little girl who always got picked on, tossed around or pushed to the back of the group. This made me grow up doubting myself or my ability at times.
I wanted to be the good child, the one that stays out of trouble, I was able to do that successfully when I was little but as I grew up, trouble seems to find me everywhere. In secondary school, I always get involved in one argument or fight, fight that involves words not blows, for I was still fragile or so I thought. I never bothered to know if I can fight, the shame that comes from losing out, how disappointed my folks would be if they get summoned to school, because of this, I walked away from every fight so that I will always be the good girl.
I was bullied, made to feel useless and less than I am. I was told I was lot of things mostly bad things and I grew up with thinking I am that. I eventually learn how to overcome that psychological wound but it scar remained. Once in a while it still affects me, but like they say everything has it own positive side.
Friends? They are like seasons, they come and go. I can’t point to a particular person as my friend because every one of them is with me for certain reasons. Or perhaps, I am the one that treats them how they shouldn’t be treated? Maybe I neglect them without knowing or make them feel horrible about themselves.
School? I am just the average regular student in class, I always thought I had a class of my own, I still do but Unilorin humbled me. In hundred level, I saw people with knowledge of things I know nothing about.
I have anger issues, I am temperamental and when I get really upset, I keep to myself because I wouldn’t want to say things that would hurt the other party. I don’t feel good with myself when I fight or have to keep malice, my chest beat faster when I see the person I have issues with. I sweat and palpitate. Malice is a horrible thing, but I find myself doing it. It’s horrible, I hate it, but I know not another way to express my hurt. I wouldn’t want to hurt those that hurt me by telling them they hurt me.
I am not perfect, I have flaws. I am not supernatural. I am not better than anybody. I don’t have any special powers. I am not good with writing, writing is good to me.
I am nothing but a child of grace.