Falling ill. Lying in bed helpless for 8 days. Having my parents take turns by my bed side. My mum massaging my back ’cause it hurt. Eating custard and eko for five days. Bottles of Lucozade littered in my room. Friend’s calling to check-in. Crying that I could take it no more. Seeing the fear in my mother’s eyes. Finding muse in the mid of the night to write my last post. Using the last bit of my strength to type it out on my phone (Took an hour thirty minutes). Trudging to the kitchen and falling in the middle of the night. Having Superman/Dad rescue me. My mum bathing me. My mum looking for my underwear. My mum giving up on my choosiness over my underwear and asking my dad to help. My dad running away. Taking 16 injections. Having ice cubes strapped in my pajama bottoms over the lump the injections created. Hiding pills beneath my bed. Throwing the food away when no one was looking. Praying to God to help me get better. Watching movies and sleeping off before the title is up. Fighting to make a goddamn toast with no strength. Recuperating. Seeing the the light in their eyes. Bisi making me spaghetti and buying me ice-cream. Watching New Girl till late in the night. Getting back to work.
I “might” have found inner peace.
All of life is but a dream; paint it if you would, write it if that suits or sing it to your tune but whatever you do, don’t just bloody live it. Create it.