Dear Young Writers, Journalists, Diarists,
HEED THIS WARNING!
DON'T EVER delete your write-ups. E geh why...
You see this writing thing ehn, e geh where you go reach, e go hook you. Like hook you for ya throat. Two hands squeezing the long necks you deck with artistic pride.
This is a talk from experience and not a generalized fact, thus caution should be paid when taking any piece of advice here.
There's that point you'll get to, when you'll look left, and right, and up. Direction down na normal point of focus. You'll look and all you'll see are the piles of unfinished works lying in your draft folders, or the half pages of uncompleted or incoherent thoughts you've scribbled down in states of maddening frenzies.
You might have a few published works to your name, or a hidden or private account with a pseudonym where you are free to unfetter your creative and wild mind without fear of public judgement and opinion of close minded folks. You might even be bold and assertive in your views and opinions and you stamp your face to your write-ups. Who their opinion epp after all? Shey?
Good!
But you see ehn, that time go come. You go lie down for bed, that's if the ground no first call you, you go count the ceiling like 600 times, and when you reach 599, one demon go just use sweet soprano or deep and thick bass voice whisper for ya ear,
"END EVERYTHING."
I repeat.
DON'T EVER DELETE YOUR WRITE-UPS.
E dey sweet when you carry those diaries of over 5 years sweat, blood, and water, burn for fire. That voice ehn, if you see as the thing dey tell me that year, "Good boy. Ooooin... You're doing well." Hei gawd...
Na so I look my diaries, the voice say, "no throw am at once o." With that slow, soft winchy voice, na so e ginger me, "Tear am page by page." Me, I kuku say okay o. Nice thought. We dey even use ART to DESTROY.
Page 1... Fiiaaaaaaa... very slowly...
Read line 1... Read line 2...
Bring the tip of the paper to the fire...
Watch in amazement, and sometimes numbness, as the flames lick up the page...
The page curves as it gets consumed...
We smile as white pages become brown, then black, then grey... Ashes...
The heat bites the finger...
Quick release of the remnant...
One day and a night gone...
Na so I use burn diairies of over a decade o.
Now I miss my poems. I miss my stories. I miss my diaries... 😭😭😭😭
What fills my head these days are research and academic journaling, and people/behavioural analysis....
I miss the days of raw poetry. And raw prose. And raw journaling. And re-reading diaries. Even my online accounts, all deleted.
Issokay. I'm sha comforted by the hundreds and hundreds of writers I've gotten to meet on this street. I may not actively comment and love and react on posts but I read as many as you post. And I'm glad you share your experiences, imaginations, and thoughts on your walls.
Las Las, thinking of it, I really needed to let those diaries go. Old things needed to pass away for the new to be born. After "ending everything," it was like I was a new born. It was refreshing, as it was depressing too.
So, yes, maybe you can tear and burn and delete those write-ups. Or maybe not. The choice is yours Las Las.
PS: I was cooking and doing dishes, and just wanted to write something. Lemme run and complete my washing. And eat. And sleep. And wake up to bake. And eat. And sleep again. Yes. And read books in between. And write, probably.
Happy Sunday folks.
✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻✌🏻
