Sometimes, I would look back and ask myself: Did I really live? Did I waste my youthful age? Perhaps I came late, like I did in MMM __registering late November only to log in and discover they were on an early Christmas break. Maybe I did come late __rocking a trend after the trend must have died off, decayed?

I began carving my eyebrows late, I think. In the university, when my friends had carved theirs in junior secondary school and now thought it foolish. But I tried it once you know, in my senior secondary school. Mother said it was cultic. That the “V” I carved just on top my eyebrows is the symbol of The Vikings. She slapped me you know. Gave me a huge knock and warned me to stay away from bad friends. That the were bad influence. So I backed away from my friends, mother’s words are golden. Then the bad guys; my bad friends, I envied the freedom they had: of not having a mother who loved them so much like mine. Lucky me right?

I fantasied about clubs late, am sure. About communicating with the love of my life on the dancefloor: the disco light alighting on her face, on her smile, on the fact that dancing with me made her happy, made her love me more. That I, in giving us both the chance to express ourselves, to get to understand the different part of us; that she loved taking it slow whenever Runtown’s For Life raids the air. That her dance step became intense, her hips crashing slowly and intently. That when Olamide’s song suffocates the air, probably Shakiti Bobo she would prefer to sit it out. That this meant she was passionate, reacting with deep emotions. That music had a role in her heart. Music was the very pathway: veins and arteries her being flowed through.

But well, I didnt give us that chance, not till after Graduation. After Mother’s loved must have loosened. She had warned me you know? Once in a cold night, father was there to. The warned I stayed away from such filthy parties; I could get shot or engage in hard drugs. But you know what the say? Obey your parents and you would live a long live. But she couldn’t wait till I graduated. I knew my parents loved me so much, I couldn’t disobey them. And so I never gave us the chance to discover us. But I tried once. Yes I did try to disobey them. To stay out late. It was graduation night and I swore to try it no matter. But it was too late she(My love) choose a more serious company. And I came back late that day…

Mother held my ears and father slapped me with his leather slippers that had a wooden sole. But she didn’t know this;My love. That while she went out partying and I, locked in my room. That I really tried. I lied till I ran out of ideas.

Yes I know. I began to dream about clubs late. After graduation when people searched for jobs. It was foolish, sitting alone in the cushion aloof. Staring at the disco light but too pained to dance.

Now I am thirty and a lawyer. Soon to be a SAN. I have a skin head. But you know? All I think about is being on dreads and smoking weed. Perhaps am living late?

Dear Nedu…

I am just curious about life

2 thoughts on “Living late”

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