Black Pelican

02-05-19

I picked up my phone to call mum. It had been a long day but I was still broke on credit. My mum has always been my go-to for credit anyway.
Mum told me that she had not gotten credit yet but she would send me when she had. Then I told her about the bank issue I had. Seems it wasn't Jumia that was bluffing, it was my bank. And they had the wicked efficiency to be sending me up and down in a goose chase.
She advised me to open another account in my bank but I don't really think I want to go around their orange anymore. So annoying.

Dad had a better idea. I could open another account in another bank and Access for that matter. It made more sense to me as he spoke because usually, I like to stick to one bank. But this situation had just taught me again - don't put your eggs in one basket.
Dad said I should take it up. Good ol' dad. Never had the patience for rubbish. He asked that I tell my sisters about it. Now that I look at it, I wonder why I hadn't told them. I'm growing up maybe?
I always tell them everything. But those girls, they don't even tell me a lot. But I told one of them so that counts.
Dad asked how I was doing. This time I just had to sigh and tell him how I was at the edge of breaking down. You know, being broke and frustrates with life is not a good combo. Its the reason why people are falling into the sea.
But my dad is ever optimistic (that's why I love him), he laughed a bit and told me to cheer up and grow some tough skin. Apparently, all the one I've been growing is failing me.
He told me that he had gone through stuff like that back in school and he had to grow tougher to beat the tide of frustration. He kind of cheered me up but when he started giving me other people's stories and comparing mine with them, I felt a bitter taste in my mouth. When would people understand that I'm not them, not like them, will not see situations like them, and it is my life that I'm living for God's sake!
Anyway, it's all good.

Dad opened the bible and showed me Nehemiah's story. It's amazing how he stood up for himself and I find myself wishing I'm more like him. Then he prayed with me and I was at the verge of crying. I felt desperate and exposed and worn out. And it seemed like only God would understand, so I cried. I felt alright after that.

My roommate has been sick. How do I know? She's been sleeping a lot more than usual and she sleeps a lot. Sometimes I wish I could be like her and sleep soundly like a log of wood and wake up and eat and lounge on my phone again and sleep back. Sometimes I open the door too loudly so I can disturb her a little. She's gone to the hospital so she has a lot of drugs with her. And food too.       
Well, I'm not a bad person but I haven't said a word to her. It's not like I don't want to but I'm so used to not talking to her, someone would think she's an apparition in the room. We are ghosts to each other and although I'm not complaining, I hate it.
I'm also a ghost in this house. I've made myself so just to remove attention from myself and to avoid unnecessary disturbance. I skillfully avoid everyone, something I can't achieve with mum.

I'm also having issues with my friends. Mum asked me once "what kind of friends do you keep?" I found myself thinking for minutes what kind of friends I had. I have a best friend though we are really far from each other in distance, and I have classmates and colleagues. I have dream-sharers and bonds. And then the help-me-i-help-you, and the talk once in a while on WhatsApp.
I couldn't answer her question and I'm beginning to feel like crawling into a help center.
I also recently ran into an issue with a friend of mine. My inner self is a dangerous sarcastic and blunt girl and I seriously hate her sometimes. But she does make a lot of sense.
I play "nice girl" that people did not force me to and I run into problems because of that. Wouldn't it be good to just be blunt and serial about things and not care about what other people would feel? Wouldn't it?

Oh, it would. But I will be so hated. It would make no difference to me anyway. I remember being that way and half the school hated me. Made up assumptions about me, and called me proud. I mellowed and guess what! People take advantage of me, still make assumptions about me, and call me proud.
But who am I to judge? I am but a petal on this flower, with the risk of being plucked and crushed. And after me, another petal, and another one and another one. The circle would go on and on.