This Room
Rofiah Adeniran@rofiahadeniran435497
9 months ago
I live in a house; my mind, with many rooms locked.
I seem to find peace here, and so, I stay in there,
And, lurk.
This room breathes ataraxy;
Freedom from the unpleasant rhapsody of reality.
Sometimes, I enjoy the waves of my thoughts,
Cascading to the possibility of a seashore.
And suddenly, I want to leave this room,
Like, I can’t continue to live in this doom.
I exit. And of a sudden, color starts to fade.
My head’s spinning. I tell myself “It’s okay”, but my heart aches.
In this room, I could express myself with the exact words conveying the missive.
But out here, it’s a stutter of clustered words enslaved.
The vestige of who I thought I am and was had effaced, and became a shadow.
Faint, and can no longer be the ray that I could follow.
Now, I am back in this enclosure; my mind.
Hoping to find a savior or continue to relish this scenery of nature.
I sat. Soaked in shame and sweat in the lecture hall, as I wiped my tears with muffled sobs. Trying to avoid the other students’ gazes and their triggering questions; “What’s wrong?”, this would be like an awaking alarm for my lacrimal glands as my tears would flow, with me desperately wishing my eyes would take a rest at the mercy of self-pity for the umpteenth time today.
“Where did I go wrong?” “Why am I like this?” “I thought I had gotten better”, I thought to myself.
This iota of doubt has grown into branches and trees.
I recall the day it first occurred, it was like being possessed. By another embodiment. This being overthrown me and took. Forcefully. Everything. Including my head, but for the brevity of its tyranny. It was like a short-acting Barbiturate with an aftermath.
That day had been almost perfect, as the morning started with me relishing my favorite food cooked by a young relative who had come to visit. I had received the invitation, days before the event. I was invited by the LOCAL COMMUNITY DEVELOPMENT ASSOCIATION (LCDA), In a bid for me to be present in attendance and enlighten the young children of the community on Future Career Prospects; Pharmacy As a Profession.
As I walked onto the stage, with the applause from the audience. My heart pounded with each sound of their claps and cheers. I held the microphone to speak. It became evident how shaky voice was, my palm had begun to sweat, my mouth went dry, my body had gone into an unwanted cold reaction; I had started shivering. My heart heaved with difficulty and heaviness. I was having a PANIC ATTACK. STAGE FRIGHT.
I rambled on the speech I had prepared. And right there, my mind did not stop swirling with thousands of muffled thoughts. I remember leaving the event hurriedly with hiccups. Getting home to burst into shrill tears on the question “How did it go?”.
Two previous occasions before this were also remarkably disappointing and now today. AGAIN.
The students settled down as a young lecturer came in. He gave his usual admonition, speaking CONFIDENTLY right before proceeding to the topic for the day. I started to write, wondering how he does it effortlessly.
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