Love Defined


“Tell me you love me”
“I love you”
“Say it like you mean it”
“I love you”
“Do you mean it?”
“I do”
The tears! Ye gods, the tears. . . hate the tears; can’t stand ‘em. I can’t understand the need for it. It’s just words, words are not supposed to have the same effect from like say getting hit with over the head with a baseball bat. . . well, maybe not a baseball bat over the head but something painful.
I wait for the tears to stop. . . just ride it out I tell myself. It’s gonna stop eventually, I mean, it has to, right? I've never heard of anyone crying none stop and I know that’s the kinda thing that will make headline, just like that girl from last year who couldn't stop hiccuping, now that was just all sorts of weird!
The tears are stopping! I understand loving and being loved in return is special, I know there are people out there desperately searching for what I have. . . .believe me I do. I just don’t think if this people know exactly what love does to you, they’d be seeking it out. Love makes. . . turns you into something. . . someone completely different.
“What do want to do tonight?”
“I don’t know. . . anything you want”
Do you see what I’m saying? Suddenly this adult person, who under normal circumstances should be making decisions, becomes the most indecisive person. I imagine with love feels like an out of body experience, where you watching two people. . . you and the other person but it isn’t you because you are here outside of it. . . Ughhhh! Love makes you confused.
“You know what. . . Let’s do something you want to do for a change”
“I don’t know. . . I’ll do whatever you pick”
“Jesus fuc. . . "
“What? Are you. . . are you mad at me?”
“I’m not. I’m not!” deep breath “I just want you. . . us to do something you’ll enjoy”
“But I enjoy doing anything you. . .
“No!” pause “Listen to me baby, I. . . never mind. I guess we’ll just stay in”
Now the feeling of guilt kicks in. . . you've done something to upset the other person. You don’t mean to but guess what. . .it happens. That’s another thing about love, no matter what you do, people still get hurt. There is this carefulness, walking on egg shells around the other person that I find really annoying.
“God! I love you so much! I can’t imagine my life without you. I always ask myself how I managed all those years not having you”
“We didn't know each other all those years”
“I know that! I’m just saying you are my world. How suddenly everything makes sense”
“Baby. . . I can’t be your. . . “
“But you are! Sometimes, I lie awake watching you sleep, your chest going up and down and your heart pumping away, the source of your life and I wish I was in you. . . your heart.”
Okay I don’t need to tell you how fucked up that sounds right? You have to be really fucked in the head not to see how sick that is. . . but wrapped up in love, it comes out sweet, doesn't it? All hail the power of love.
“Baby, don’t say things like that”
“But it’s true. You know what else I wish for?”
“Wha. . .” Swallows “What?”
“Sometimes I wish everyone around us will just disappear. My friends, your friends, our parent, everyone”
“Wh. . . why would you want them to disappear?”
“So we can be alone together, no one to interrupt us. I hate it when you have to leave. I can’t bear for you to be out of my sight. You know when you’re not with me, I almost feel like. . .like I can’t breath.”
“You can’t brea. . . “
“That’s why I follow you”
“What?!!”
“Yeah, I drive behind you. Like, yesterday when you. . .
“You followed. . . you follow me?
“Yeah. . .”
“Are you fucking cra. . . Why would you do that?”
“I love you”
Love it makes okay to say sick bullshit, it justifies wrongest of all wrongs
“ I. . . I don’t think I can do this anymore”
“Do what?
“This. . .this whole thing. Do you fucking hear yourself?”
“I. . . I don’t understand”
No surprise there! In addition to becoming a mindless zombie, acting like a brainless brat, Love also turns the simplest things into advanced Physics.
“Tell me what you mean”
Advance, Advanced Physics
“This makes no sense to me”
Super, Duper Advanced Physics.
“I’m saying it’s over”
“No!”
Oh God, here comes the tears. . . at least this time the reason for it is valid
“I’m sorry”
“You just said you loved me! You said it right here. . . “
“I do! I mean yeah. . . .but I. . .”
“Tell me what to do. I can change. I will change. I will be anything you want me to be, just don’t leave me please!”
Alright, let’s pause for a moment and think this through. From the moment you are born, your goal is to be your own person. That’s why when you were 2, you screamed “No, I’ll do it myself” at your mother when she tried to correct the shoes you wore wrongly. It’s why at 10, you made sure your dad added an extra headlight on the roof of the cardboard car he built for you. Sure, it made no sense but you stood your ground “This is what I want daddy” you asserted when he tried to change your mind. Remember the college decision? The ‘rents wanted you to go their Alma Mata but you wanted something else and you fought for it. Every single decision, every single step was leading to the moment when you can finally stand tall and proudly declare “I am my own person”. . . .then you fall in love and everything else goes poof! How lovely love is, don’t you agree?
“I do anything for you. Is there someone else?”
“No! This has nothing to. . .let go of me!”
“Please, baby please. . . I’ll die without you”
“Stop it! Just stop it!
“I’ll be anything for you, just tell me what, Please! I love you! We’re meant to be together”
“Jesus! Let go of me! You are fucking INSANE!”
And there it is! Love defined. Insanity! That is exactly what Love is.
“Oh my God! What have I done? What. . . What am I doing?!”
I have to get out of this dark abyss or I’ll end up doing something. . . something I’m gonna regret for the rest of my life.
I release him immediately and take a step back. He grabs his shoes, shirts, pants. . . removing all the traces of himself from my life, obviously eager to get as far away a possible from the raving, possessive and jealous lunatic I have become. . . in the name of love.
“Stay the fuck away from me or I’ll have you arrested” He walked out and slammed the door.
Naked, I sit on the edge of the bed, my heart racing. . . he will never know what a huge favor he just did me.

Life - Take 0 - Part1

I love movies. I love watching them, I love reading about them but more than anything, I love watching them being made, in my opinion, this is way more interesting than the end product. What I especially love in the movie making process is the CUT and the TAKES.

The actor flubs a line, director yells CUT

The actress isn't emoting as she should? CUT

The story is not going the in right direction? CUT.

CUT is the chance to work the kinks out and once they feel they are ready to go again, you hear the call

Alice in wonderland, Scene 4, Take 2

Alice has just been given the chance for a do-over.

Sweet!

I wonder what life will be like if we all a chance to CUT!


“Okay, moving to Las Vegas is not what I thought it would be. Director? Producer. . . anybody? Do you mind if we went back to the day I bought my ticket? Yeah, that morning, I'm can buy the Oshogbo Ticket instead”

Alrighty then!

Travelling with Sisi Scene 7, Take 2

Viola! It’s all been erased!

Sounds cool, huh? I know.

Before I really got into movies, I used to be fascinated with turning back time. If you are wondering what mistakes I’ve made in the past. . . don’t. This is not about me, it’s about 2 people, whose story I can’t stop thinking about. Every day, every hour, every minute, I think "How differently things could have turned out, How happier they would have both been, if someone had yelled CUT when it started to go downhill.

Their Story

A guy, we’ll call him Niyi meets this girl Hadiza, while studying in abroad. They fall madly in love. . . he has no qualms showing it but she a little bit on the reserved side. I think unlike him, she is more grounded and does not allow her emotions to overshadow the many factors against them. For one, she’s Hausa and he is Yoruba, She is the first girl in her family to go to beyond secondary school. . . in a foreign country no less. She does not want to abuse that opportunity by allowing love to distract and He. . . well, he was a man.

He manages to convince her that love conquers all, True love never dies and all the other love clichés. She relents and goes with the flow. He was right. . . or at least somewhat right, their love conquers their family objections, friends’ misgivings and society’s rules. They got married. Had a lovely Honeymoon and prepared to live happily ever after in his hometown in Ogun state. She got a job as a teacher in one of the local school, he worked for his father.

Everything was perfect. . .

Life - Take 0 - Part 2

. Or so they hoped.


By the end of their first year, they started having issue . . . no matter how hard they tried (and they did) they couldn’t get pregnant. So all the problems they thought they had overcome came rushing back.

“Only God knows what is wrong with her Hausa womb! All those concoction the make them drink all in the name of being fertile, who knows that they have mixed with what"

“He can’t get her pregnant? Well Color us shocked! Not! Like we didn’t know Yoruba men are not the most virile men out there”

On and on and on it went that by their 3rd year, they were strangers in their own home. Those who knew them said it was obvious they still loved each other but everything else going on in their life buried the love. This made it easier for him to succumb to family pressure by taking another wife, who of course got pregnant, just like that. He was very, very, very sad the day he told Hadiza his 2nd wife was pregnant. She accepted the news as dignified as she could in the circumstance, wished him well and told him she wasn’t staying. She would go back to her parents’ house in Zaria, continue her teaching job and just live her life. No, she wasn't asking for a divorce but she couldn't stay in the house with him and his 2nd wife.


He pleaded with her but she stood her ground even though it hurt her. They would still be husband and wife but not in the same house. If he loved her, he would allow her do this. So he did. She moved back to father’s compound, luckily she had her own private flats away from prying eyes. He would come see her every week....leaving his newly pregnant 2nd wife with his family. In the fourth month of the pregnancy, Hadiza got pregnant, making Niyi the happiest man ever. He all but abandoned the other woman and carried on like this was his first child.

Understandably, this pissed the other woman off and it didn't help that she had the support of his family but Niyi didn't care, it seemed in his mind her child was his family’s child and Hadiza’s was his. This caused a lot of family problems with the other woman’s family pitching their tent with his family. Ironically, it was during these brouhaha Hadiza’s family took to him. . . he had finally won them over. Unfortunately, they didn’t have much say in what was happening, all they had to offer was their support.

The 2nd wife had her baby, it was a boy, cementing her position as the mother of Niyi’s first son. It would be sweeter if Hadiza had a girl, . . I bet she thought. Yeah, well no such luck. . . Hadiza had a boy about 2 months after hers and because it was premature, Niyi was at Hadiza’s side morning, afternoon and night, making it very clear he wasn’t budging, not that anyone tried to pry him away. Their child survived and he assumed now that they were a family, she’d come back home and they would live happily ever after (honestly, I don’t know how men reason), she didn’t want to but she did it for him. The 2nd wife was not having any of that and given the fact that she was in her territory (she was also from Ogun state), she had the backings of her people. Hadiza on the other hand was a lone ranger with just her son and her husband but she was willing to live with the other woman’s troubles as long as it was directed at her.

One day, Hadiza came home from work to find her 3 years old son with marks on his body, His nanny told her the other woman had beaten him over a small offense. Hadiza went to the woman’s quarters, beat the living day lights out of her, packed her things and left the house. Niyi came home to utter confusion, found out Hadiza had gone back to Zaria, jets over there . . . all macho you are my wife and that is my son, now get in the car let’s go back home where you belong and she told him she would only if wanted her child dead before his 5th birthday.


I imagine he rolled his eyes at her high drama but she was insistent, there had been a few times her son eaten something the other woman prepared and became violently ill but they had always chucked it up to him being a premie baby and probably allergic to things. Anyway, they went back and forth for a long time and she said NO. He got angry and said whatever, you are no longer my wife. . . blah, blah, blah, this, this, this, that, that, that and poof! It was over. Oh he still saw his son and all but whatever was between them was no more.

She never had any other child, she threw herself into bringing up her son and her work, she became the headmistress of an all girls school (she considered all of them her children) and He went on to have 4 more children with his 2nd wife, 2 with his 3rd, 1 with his 4th and a few bastards sprinkled all over the state. yes! After losing Hadiza, he didn’t seem to care. Once in a while, their paths crossed. . . for their son’s graduation, when he got married, the naming ceremony of their grandchildren but it was understood there is no going back. When she died at 53, he locked himself in his rooms for days; it was their son and his brother who had to talk him out.

Oh yeah, another Irony, Hadiza’s son and the other woman’s son become very close, they would joke about being th first twins born two months apart. Their children grew up to be the closest of all Niyi’s grandchildren, ready to do battle for one another and people knew better than to try and come between them. . . it was them vs. everyone else, which included cousins from the other wives. Hadiza's granchildren got to know their step grandmother and found her. . . let’s just say she was not the ogre or the wicked witch of the west they had imagined (I've always wanted to know what she thinks when she looks at them)

Well there you have it.

If you subscribe to the whole it is better to have loved and lost than to never love at all. . . you probably see nothing wrong with this story. For me, it is a sad story, there is nothing sweet about it. I mean seriously, who won here? Hadiza who died of a broken heart? Niyi who naively believed love can conquer all or his 2nd wife who spent her life living in the shadows of another, knowing no matter what she did. . . she would never be the ONE for husband? How about his other wives. . . sucked into an already screwed up life all because Niyi wanted to prove himself?


If I had the power to yell CUT, I'll do it in a heartbeat, save everyone the heartache and redo the moment Hadiza and Niyi met . . . so they don’t. Of course, I’ve been told doing this would be tantamount to cutting off my nose to spite my face because the chances I’ll be here today if they never happened is slim to none. . . see, they were my grandparents.


Even with that in mind, I’m still not convinced this story does not deserve another take. I find it extremely unfair that one wrong turn can derail your entire life story. . . and I can't stop thinking about it.

The Circle of Life - Birth

I delivered a baby today. It was nice. It’s always nice. There’s something very special about bringing a new life into the world, everyone says that, I know but it truly is.

It was a boy.

I held him in my arms for a bit and once the pleasure wore off, I couldn’t help but wonder what his life would be like. What I was delivering him into a miserable existence? What if he rues the day he was born? Would he hate me? The person who was instrumental in bringing him into the world? I would

The room became silent and the mood apprehensive. He hadn’t cried - The sign to show he was fine. His mom asked if he was alright. One of the two nurses assured her he was, while the other looked at me, waiting for me to hand him over so they can have his mouth and nose suctioned to aid breathing.

I hesitated.

What if he didn’t want to be here? What if he knows what awaits him? Why should I force life on him when clearly he does not want it.

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind when he opened his mouth and let out a loud scream. All three women laughed in relief. I handed to the nurse and watched them coo over him as they wiped him down.

His mother watched intently, tears running down her face. He was the most beautiful thing she’d had ever seen, she said. The nurses agreed.

I can’t say if his going to be a looker or not but for his sake I hope he is. The world is very cruel to the have nots.

Sitting behind my desk 30minutes later, the pleasure now completely worn off, I wondered what was wrong with me. I seem to be going through the motions and it at that moment I came to the conclusion that I was bored. Bored with life, bore with work, bored with love, bored with everything.

I need some excitement.

I need to remind myself that I am alive and the only to do that , the only way I’ve ever done was through death. . . specifically murder.

The Circle of Life - Living

Tonight I had dinner with an old friend and ex lover. We chatted about nothing and everything, both of us working hard to keep up the façade that we were mature enough to still be friends. We had to. . . we had no one else in the world but each other, we were stuck whether we liked it or not.

I asked how his work was going, he answered splendid. Good and his health? Not bad, just the usual ulcer that comes with being an online broker. I told him about a new medication and promised to get him some. You’re always on, aren’t you he said. Well, that’s why they make us take the oath, I reply. This was a running joke with us. He asked what else was new in my life, I was going to say nothing but then for no apparent reason, I told him about the baby boy I had delivered the day before and how it had brought out a strange feeling in me. He smirked and asked me if I my biological clock was ticking. I told him I didn’t think I had one. This made him laugh.

He offered to walk me home. . . he didn’t think the neighborhood was safe for a girl walking alone at night. So many dangers lurking in the corner, I agreed, giving him the opening he needed to launch into a tirade about me still living like a pauper. As he had done a million times before, he offered to find a place for me in the ritzy side of town where he lived and as I had done a million times before, I declined. I like where I live, the noise, the rotten stench, the smell of human suffering, it all spoke to me. I didn’t tell him that, he would only tell me I needed to break away from the environment we’d both grown up – The State Orphanage, where no matter how clean it was, it never lost the oppressive air and smell that clung to it.

A couple of blocks from my apartment stood what used to be a playground. Now it was a meeting place for the homeless. Every day they come there, old and young, man and woman, children and teenagers, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. No matter how different they are, they all wore the same expression – Hopelessness

A complete contrast to what I had witnessed the day before. A mother who looked at her son with hope filled eyes. He would grow up to be great; I bet she prayed just as I’m sure somebody did for these ones. Obviously prayers were no match for fate. . . how else can one explain why they were huddle over a burning trashcan trying to keep one, the same trashcan they fed from, drank from and clothed from. Every morning they wake up to a day with no promise, yet they continued to. . . I found it all very fascinating.

No surprise. . . my companion didn’t share in my fascination. He turned his nose up and cursed. Something had to be done about these bums, the scum of society, invisible to the rest of the world, they ought to be carted off to a deserted island, it wasn’t if they will be missed, he spat in disgust and that’s when it hit me.

My heart pumped faster, I felt the blood rush to my head and it was like I was coming back to life.

My boredom elevated and Tomorrow suddenly held promise.

The Circle of Life - Death

The phrase “unplanned death” makes no sense. Every death is planned, maybe not by the one who is dying but planned nonetheless. I think instead of unplanned death, it should be called unconsciously planned death. A man who dies in a car accident wasn’t the victim of an unplanned death, from the moment he bought the car. . . his death was planned.

It took me three weeks of meticulous planning. Three weeks of watching and waiting. Three weeks and I found him. He was just perfect. The right height, the right weight, the right build. . . just perfect. He had been a little suspicious when I first approached but he quickly dismissed “Just a girl” I could almost hear him say. We talked. . . well I did the talking at first but by our 3rd meeting, he opened up. I brought him canned apricots and a loaf of bread. He eat it all in one sitting and then apologized. He’d not had fresh bread in years, he said. . . I told him I understood. He told me about himself over milk and cookies. . . I baked them and I listened attentively. A veteran he said he was, served his country like a good citizen but lost himself in the process. Over a cup of freshly squeezed orange juice, he asked me why I was doing this. I’m a doctor, I replied matter of factly, it is my job to end suffering and pain. Thank you very much he said, my pleasure I answered.

He trusted me.

It was time.

I chose a weekend. . . I wanted to savor it.

Friday - Woke up as usual, went to work, did my rounds, wrote my notes like the good doctor I was. A package came for me, it was the ulcer meds I had ordered 2 days before. I made a phone call, it’s here I told him, come over tonight and get them. I gave the nurses instructions for the patient in bed 8. If her temperature rises above 100, page me. With my purse in hand, I walked out of the hospital.

At home, I did my yoga. No sooner had I finished that the bell rang. I opened the door and he walked in, no hi or how was your day, just another tirade about not being careful, opening the door without asking who it was. He could have been anyone he ranted. I wasn’t expecting anyone, I retorted casually, I was expecting him. He scrunched his face up and I laughed and grabbed the pills out of my purse, handed it to him. . . once a day, instructed firmly. Yes mum, he answered, rolling his eyes. He ripped it open and swallowed one. Any big plans for the weekend? He asked. I thought for a sec and replied nothing big. I didn’t have to ask, If he had any plans . . . apart from the occasional golf with a few acquaintances, he never did. I turned on the TV. When Harry Met Sally was Playing, we sat back to watch.

By the time Harry and Sally said their I love Yous, he was already asleep. I looked at the time; it was 15 minutes to 10. I tapped him gently, only his head moved. I put his arm on my shoulder, grabbed him by the waist hoisted him up. He opened his eyes, smiled and mumbled something about chocolate syrup before shutting his eyes again. I laughed and slowly helped him to the bathroom and managed to dump him in the tub. I looked at my watch again, it was 10 on the dot. He sprawled in the bathtub like a baby in the crib. I move closer to make sure he wasn’t pretending. Satisfied, I walked out the bathroom and quietly shut the door. I grabbed my jacket and keys and left the apartment.

The Circle of Life - (Re)Birth

The playground was empty. I walked down the street, taking in the night site, listening to the sound of the living. . . living. 20 mins later, I was back the playground, it was still empty. I headed back to my apartment, as soon as I got in. I heard loud moans, I shrugged my jacket off and headed for the bathroom, he was awake. I asked how he felt. Awful, replied. His mouth had a funny taste and he couldn’t move his limbs.

I smiled, put the toilet cover down and sat on it.

Tetrodotoxin, I said, it would do that to you.

He opened his mouth as if to say something but only saliva came out. I knew what he was going to ask, so I went ahead and told him.

How? Your pills. . . for the ulcer, I laced them with Tetrodotxin.

His eyes questioned

Why? I don’t know really, at first It was about feeling alive but that would have been selfish. . . you know and then you said something, remember that night you walked me home, saw the homeless people and you said they were scum and no one would miss them and I thought. He is right! We should get rid of the utterly useless

I got up, opened the cabinet and brought out a shaving stick and shoving powder and turned back to look at him.

That was not a nice thing to say but you know what or rather who is funny? You are. See, because of your money and your glitzy apartment and fancy shoes, you don’t really see useless your life is. I mean of what value are you to mankind? Can anyone say their lives have changed because of you?

I pressed some shaving cream into my hand and knelt by the tub. I rubbed it on his head and began to shave. He tried to move but he was paralyzed.

Oh sure you have a roof over your head and you are not slumming in a park but you and the likes of you are the biggest scum of the earth. The haves who makes life hard for the have-nots.

I scoop the cut hair and flushed it down the toilet.

Your online clients will get their money back, so no one will come asking any questions. Your golf buddies will get a note telling them you’ve moved. Your condo and the rest. . . well, it is a good thing we named each other next of kin.

I sat on my heels, hands on my lap.

What am I saying? If you disappeared today, no one will miss you.

His chest raised and his eyes widened.

That’s your diaphragm collapsing.

I wiped his now clean shaven head with a towel and began to undress him.

Convulsion is going to start soon and some other messy stuff.

I threw his shirt on the bathroom floor and went for the shoes and pants.

Soon, he was completely naked. On his eyes moved now. I looked at my watch it was just a almost 12 o’clock, I felt his pulse. . . it was slowing down.

I went for my tool box and brought out a scalpel.

Under normal circumstances, this would hurt but you won't feel a thing. . . I promise

I smiled gently and started strategically punching holes on parts of his body to drain him.

When it was done, I played around with the thought of going to be bed but I was too wired. I wanted to speed up the process but that would be cheating. So I waited, when he started foaming in the mouth, I waited. When his bowels loosened and he lost its content, I waited.

By 4am, he took his last breath and I began the process of cleaning him. I bathed him gently him like one would a baby, went to for the bags of ice I had gotten the day before. It took seven trips to get finally get him iced.

I brushed my teeth and went to bed.

Saturday – Bought the biggest luggage I could find.

The rest of the day passed relatively quickly.

Sunday – This was it! The hardest part of it my entire plan. With ABBA playing in the background, I was finally going to practice the skills I had learned in my one month residency of forensic pathology. It wasn’t the best setting but it would have to do.

I drove all night to different cities until it was all gone.

Monday – Woke up, performed my morning ablutions, had breakfast on the go. . . cereal bar. I walked to the park and he was there. He smiled when he saw me, I smiled back. Instead of a loaf of bread, canned apricots, cookies and milk and freshly squeezed orange juice. . . I handed him a small box.

“Everything you need to start a new life”

Without waiting for a response, turned and left. Some would call it identity theft, I called it setting things right.

I walked into the hospital with the feeling of control over life. . . and death itself.