Yes! My flow has been stymied by all the calculations my subconscious is trying to do on my behalf (yes, I just saw Inception).
This big project I’ve been working on all year is finally coming to a close. I’m mentally planning an Afro-Epic story that I hope I can do next year while also planning my long-short story that’s still a work in progress.
I miss you guys! Two weeks is too long a time to be self (-ish/-absorbed). The gong has dust all over it.
The goddess? She’s really mad at me. I went to the shrine today bearing sacrifice and she refused to be bribed. She won’t talk to me till I finish off my backlog of undelivered messages. I know I totally deserve it.
One-by-one, I go finish am!
But for now, I’d borrow a Bocelli piece and beat a gong version because the villagers need to calmly hear as AfroSays:
LE SOL UNO
take a deep breath
I’m in a pack. Or several.
I learnt early in life that one has to belong to at least one pack. A pack of anything. One needs a pack to survive.
I’ve been a member of several anythings: cool kids, athletes, losers, spirituals, hedonists, nerds, rich kids, average kids, dancers, musicians, artists, business peoples, weirdos, leaders, family, but I’ve never been able to fully pledge my allegiance to any.
I’ve been with drinking buddies, playing pretend, not really connecting to the camaraderie of percentages
I’ve been with the church team and, of course, I had to keep my dark thoughts to myself
I been with darker minds and I pity them
I usually am with ladies on the weekends
I don’t know if I’m the only one who can’t fit into a mold but sometimes I suspect that the other people too, they’re trying hard to convince themselves that they really belong.
I already know that I don’t.
But I also know, that I don’t want to be alone.
Dedicated to #FellowWeirdo, Amaraegbeni Chigozie