Nostalgia

Nostalgia

I've always wanted to write, pour my heart down with a spot of ink and a pen, and engrave in them the pain my soul feels each time I want to be happy, how guilty I feel most times, but here I am now lying on my bed after taking a heartwrenching siesta that lasted like so many hours of self-pity and contemplation, encouraging myself to get up, take my tablet and keyboard, and type, and mind you, not on my desk but on the bed because I am too lazy to even stand up because if I did, I would have to clean the pile of clothes scattered around my room, and I hate to have that around me, but I just do not find the courage to stand up and get those things done.

and you might want to ask why I wallow in self-pity. I do not know. Maybe because of all the blows life has thrown at me and how devastated I am to have even survived any of them, my unsuccessful attempts at love, and my contempt for life struggles. I do blame life; with my full chest, I blame life. I find myself hating every bit of it now and then: the disappointments, the people, the very bad people, the experience, the failed and fake promises, the ever-changing body that shelters all my agony, and my tattered broken heart.

And then I remember the good memories: the beautiful people like Paola, so sweet that I think I might die from loving her; Daniela and her amazing mom, who wish me all the very best and love me dearly; and Tiziana, whose immense motherly love has been my comfort even though I am far away from home. Marzia, whose generosity I cannot comprehend but appreciate, and then Agostina, who would advise me not to settle for less.

Less I forget my wonderful Cynthia, whom I love dearly, and now Anthony and Vordina, whose love I long for even from afar. And Sarah, who has welcomed me into her home with a warm embrace. Chiara, who'd cry with me on the phone, and Angelique, whose love I value. The little joys of going to classes, making new friends and discovering new things, taking a walk to the university, and listening to music that soothes my soul.

All of these good memories, I fear, do not outweigh the sorrows. The late-night crying, insomnia, and the constant fear of being dragged by demons to my past—the same past I've dreaded for years—the one that broke me, tore me open from my head to my toes, and in my most private part, that same past that gloats at me each night I go to bed, waiting to devour me like a lion. and like a sheep led to the slaughter, I fall for it every time I close my eyes.

That past that refuses me to bathe with a particular fragrance or close my eyes while I shower; otherwise, I'd choke on my breath and collapse from fear; that past that stole away the two most precious people in my life at a very tender age, Eleanor and Mom; that past that keeps bringing mom into my dreams only to show how much she has suffered over and over again. They do not nullify my crying out my heart on the street in a new city with no means to survive, people staring at me, calling my sister, her panicking, fighting for my health, going from one hospital to another, finding a way to get pills, and trying to fit into a standard I did not create. These are far greater and carry so much weight that it burdens my heart, and I ask myself, What must I do to make these go away? Going to bed does not solve it, and neither does scrolling on Facebook help; either someone is dead, married, or has given birth. To the latter, I am so glad for such news, but not to the former, which brings me back to contemplating what I am doing with my life.

I am particularly nostalgic today.

I miss Uwomha. I miss Bridget. I miss Raymond. And, oh God, how much I miss my baby sister Monica. I love her so much, and the thought of seeing her again gives me so many bittersweet feelings.

I miss Jessica, my favourite cousin. I have so many cousins, some of whom I'll never meet or know even though I pass them on the street, but my Jessy, so sweet and divine, is my very own love, and I hope to see her in 2024; that's part of my new year resolution.

I feel much better now, writing down all the things going around in my heart, and I am a bit relieved; it just turned midnight on January 24. I think I should go face all those demons that may appear in my dream, or better yet, try to fix my room, take out the trash, and arrange the clothes in my cupboard. I know that I did that two days ago, but what's the harm in doing it all over again? Clean the study desk and prepare to study critical theories. An exam awaits me on the 29th of this month. After which, I will search on YouTube for “fall asleep music.” A bunch of options will pop up, and I will click the one, my favourite one with a blue background and 7 hours long, and press 'play'. Close my eyes, or at least try to. Lay on the bed, roll around, and eventually fall prey like the sheep led to the slaughter, falling prey to those past of mine coming to hunt me as a nightmare.

bye.

Grace Hannah Imordi.