The Chronicles of Bewa

C4: Under the silver moon

Am I depressed? 

I asked myself after I have spent hours staring at a blank Microsoft word page trying to write msomething for my blog but I couldn’t even find the words.

My head felt empty but also not empty because it was filled with less of story ideas for my blog but more of what is happening to me and trying to figure out what I did to deserve this kind of treatment.

It has been more than a week since the match with Borussia Dortmund and Kylian has not come home nor have I been able to go outside. That bitch locked me in and no matter what I tried, she never let me out. All she said was I should wait for Kylian.

Slapping my head hard and taking a sharp intake

“You can do this, Bewaji” I tried to pet talk myself into writing but I got nothing. Closing my laptop in annoyance, I have to be depressed. Writing has always come easy for me, depression has to be the only explanation for the writer’s block I am experiencing right now. 

I removed my eye glasses in defeat, picked up my phone and played music. BTS's airplane pt 2 blast out through my phone as I strolled out of my bedroom to the terrace in my night robe barefooted. Placing my hand on balcony trying to enjoy the view before me as the sun set again but I couldn’t even do that because my head is heavy.

It felt like there is a battle going on in my head with the confusion and numbers of unanswered questions I have. What is happening to me? Why won’t my husband come see me? Am I married to myself? Why can’t I even go outside? Is something wrong with me?

I was dragged out of my head by loud blast of my ringtone. I went back into my bedroom and picked up my phone. 

My heart dropped when I saw Mama as the caller ID.

What will I tell her again? With how heavy my head is right now, I can’t even come up with an excuse as to why Kylian won’t talk to them. I throw the phone on bed and went back out where I flung myself into the swimming pool. I have been doing that recently when I don’t want to think about anything. Lucky for me, the pool is not deep, so all I just do is sit in it and watch the sun set.

I slowly went under the water

I should tell them the truth, I am sure they can help me fix this but how can I tell my parent that I haven’t seen my own husband since I arrived over a week ago and the closest I have been to him is through the 72 inches flat screen in my bedroom. It shows I can’t even take care of my home.

My Mama told me to always be submissive and respectful towards my husband. I should never make him feel like I am trying to be his boss but at the same time, I should use my submissiveness to make him dance to my tune. He may be the head of the house but if he can’t take any important step without my advice and input… maybe even my approval, that makes me the head of the house indirectly

I frantically come up for air seconds later, how can I to tell Mama that I failed to make him even see me, I am a failure, aren’t I? 

Ahh! My head hurt. 

Not picking her call for one day won’t hurt, I will find an excuse for her tomorrow.

GOALLLLLLL

I was pulled out of my dreamless sleep with loud holler of what I would call the voice of every French man and woman in Paris. Looking up at the sky, I saw the silver moon out and watching over the street of Paris. Judging from that loud yell, the match has already started and I slept off. I rushed out of the swimming pool into the bedroom with water dripping everywhere, switched on the TV and dashed into the closet to change out of my wet clothes