It’s that time again , when my body floats in the air,  as if a piece of   string was holding me up.

Although i walk briskly down the road ,i cannot feel my feet, my eyes are wide open but yet i cannot see. I hear nothing too…no i hear the wind or is it the air chasing something i cannot fathom.

These days, there’s no motivation to wake up, its always a terrible struggle to get-up-from-the-bed , and so the act of living has become a tedious duty to perform.

I have lost appetite for living ooh,

even Abena’s horrible singing in the shower  irritates me no more,

even mama’s dawadawa jollof rice has lost its taste in my month,

can you imagine, that, i can even stand the nauseating  smell of aunt Fatima’s mysterious  concoctions  she calls cocktail.

even the smile of the tall-dark-handsome man next door means nothing to me.

And so on December 31st , when most young women are preparing to go to church (which is just to deceive God) because they would later lie down with their legs open praying to other god . I go around and around in circles searching for a manual -on-living , hoping that perhaps some angel up there somewhere would pity me enough and drop down on earth a detailed- to-do-list or manual that would show me how to live.

because i no longer know how to live,

i have forgotten, how, it is to live,

was i once living? Please do tell me;

what is food for?

what are clothes meant for?

is bathing necessary?

how do i smile or laugh?

how do i pray? and to whom would i be praying to?

Today , January 1st, i make an effort to live only because i am beginning to  frighten people;they avoid me like a plague. And so now, i pretend to live by;

talking more , so people wouldn’t notice how dead i am,

smiling and laughing , so people would think…hey- how- happy- she- is,

i now eat and eat, although i know not the difference in the taste between bitter leaves and lettuce,

nor whether a trouser was meant to be wore from the top-to-the down or from the down-to-the-top,

i bath and bath, pouring buckets of cold  water on my head…. i do not know whether cold is  hot or hot is cold,

is this is a temporary state of death? a sort of punishment?

i browse the Internet 24/7 , i roam the streets, i search the oldest archives of the library, i  ask around…..but nothing , no one , not even the mighty  Mr. Google knows THE-ACT-LIVING

i practice yoga,

read Ben Carson’s gifted hands,

speak to myself in the mirror,

get laid  with a few useless guys,

Nothing , absolutely nothing helps!


3 thoughts on “THE ACT OF LIVING

  1. Wow! I just hope this is writing for writing sake. If not, then Porche, this is a horrible state of living. Living must be self inspired. None can make you happy if you’re not happy with yourself. And getting laid by few, you might as well watch that because AIDS is real.

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