21

I suppose I love this life in spite of my clenched fist.

My 5th birthday. I was sick and I didn’t care for the birthday paparazzi

“We were all born on days when too many people died in terrible ways,

but you still have to call it a birthday.” - Andrea Gibson

I think my least favourite part of writing is having to sit with myself and ask myself the difficult questions. How am I feeling? Why am I feeling this way? Do I like this feeling? Why can’t I control this feeling?

I have avoided doing this for the longest time, although I still write incoherent bursts of feeling in my journal, I have largely ignored these questions. Weeks ago, while walking with my friend, I told her I didn’t want to be helpless to my emotions, in not so many words. She mumbled her agreement and that was the end of that line of thought.

Now as I sat down to write this, I wondered about what is going on inside me. While attempting to unravel the interiors of my heart, my mind circled back to the conversation I had with my friend and the statement I had made in passing.

I do not want to be helpless to my emotions. My life is far from perfect but according to Daniel Caesar, Pain is inevitable and misery’s a choice. I have a choice in this matter and I’m not choosing misery. Even when the pain fucks me and threatens to wring me to dust. When the pain feels like a bullet to my chest. Even when it feels like a thousand needles pricking my flesh. And even when the pain leaves me gasping for breath. I’m not going to be miserable.

In Good Days, Sza sings about trying even when you are unsure of what the next day holds, about believing in the possibility of good, better days even when you have been stretched beyond your limit. The worst thing about life is that it is unpredictable. The whole world can come crashing down with the flick of a wrist. The best thing about life is that it is unpredictable. I could wake up tomorrow and my world has righted itself. I might stop drowning and start floating. The tightness in my chest might just go away. I can make my life beautiful. I can give myself all the love that I desire. I can look in the mirror and see all the messy and sad parts of me and still embrace it.

I have come to the realization that loving myself is difficult but it is doable.

As I grow older, I’m learning more about myself and I’m even more confused than ever. More often than not, I feel like a stranger to my own life. I’m learning to embrace all the contradictions that come with being me. All I have is the present and I want to make the most of it. Today will soon become yesterday and I’m choosing to make good memories to look back to when tomorrow comes.

I can continue to complain about my life and how difficult it is or I could write about all the things I’m grateful for. I choose the latter. Today, my head is above water and I feel euphoric. It feels like flying with the assurance of a soft landing. There is no flailing, falling or screaming. Just flying. I feel like I’m on happy pills and I cannot stop laughing because I’m drunk with the joy of being shown so much love.

Right here, right now, I’m so grateful. For surviving, for my siblings, for my friends, for laughter, for Amala, for books, for music, for art that tugs at the strings of my heart, for cold baths, for the ability to notice everything, for my over sensitivity, for colorful birds, for inside jokes, for hugs.

For the one whose eyes light up when he sees me, for guilty pleasures, for romance, for a mind that has refused to give up on me, for stretch marks, for the ability to make something that was not into being, for slivers of light that sneak in through openings, for this gift of words, for today.

I don’t want today to end. But all good things come to an end.

Happy birthday, Abisola. May you never lose your light.