I'm trying but
I keep falling down
I cry out but
nothing comes now...
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TJ leaned against the strong mahogany door keeping him from reaching out to Chimdi, his ear was pressed against it's cold surface as, he waited for any sound or movement.
He'd been standing for what felt like eons, outside her room, pleading with her to let him in. Yet, she hadn't uttered a word to him, never made even the lowest of sounds. All he got as response was the sound of twitting birds and clashing waves from the nearby beach, now that the house was silent.
Jiki wasn't back yet and Elo had been busy taking calls which he suspected were from his parents, concerning his twin.
He couldn't deny that the nerve-racking statement Abike had made hours ago had the power to destroy whatever happiness they had flowing for the holiday. The house was a far cry from the usual happy and lively space it used to be.
The few days they'd spent at the condo had never been that silent. Even when Lara and Nene headed home, the house still buzzed with life.
He knocked at the door again, not in any way tired of trying. "Hey sunshine. I know you're hurting and you don't want to talk about it. Trust me, we all are hurting with the mere thought of what you might be going through. Locking us out and bottling up all your feelings won't help ease the pain. Will you say something please?" Desperation weighed in his voice.
But still, there was no response, not even a sound.
Defiantly, he sat down at her doorstep, leaning against it, so that his ear was still pressed to the door.
"You know what," he said getting comfortable. "I'm not leaving this place till I've heard you say you're alright."
He waited a beat -- then more, but still she didn't utter a words.
Then, he heard her sniff. "Go away Kodiri! I'm alright."
His lips broke into a relieved smile.
"Nice try. You don't sound okay."
"I'm okay, I swear."
"If you are, why don't you open up so I can see for myself that you're okay."
"I look like the walking dead." She tried to make a joke, but he wasn't buying it one bit.
"A pretty walking dead, that is-- C'mon, open up let's see?"
She scoffed loudly, followed by shuffling before responding. "Nice try Kodiri."
"Is it working?"
"You have to try harder."
"Fine," he replied, making a show of cracking his knuckles. "I'm bringing my A game in."
He didn't hear a sound after that for what felt like minutes. Soon he heard footsteps draw close to the door and driven by anticipation, he leaned close, trying to get a clue of what she was up to.
He heard the footsteps come to a halt and immediately, felt the disappointment sip in.
Maybe she's gone to the terrace.
"Why are you here?" She asked timidly, her voice groggy due to excessive crying.
He listened with rapt attention, while noticing that she sounded too close, probably leaning against the door like he was.
"Because I want to be. You don't have to fight alone you know."
"I have to take responsibility of my problems some how." She paused for what seemed like eons, before speaking. "You should go now you've found out that I'm okay. I promise, I'm not going to harm myself."
His face fell at the idea of what she was trying to imply. "You think I'm here to keep you from harming yourself?"
She let out a nervous chuckle. "With the state I was few hours ago, I wouldn't be surprised if your thoughts drift to the possibility of me resulting to self harm."
His heart went out to her.
The image of her with lips trembling, eyes red rimmed, while battling for control over her own body had him shuddering.
"I'd never view you in such manner Chimdi." He proclaimed, feeling the need to drill that into her.
She waited a beat before replying him.
"But I have."
He froze, heart going on a thudding spree.
"Chimdi..."
"Don't get too surprised," she cut him short. "I'm not living in the perfect picture they've all painted me to be in. I'm sure you're already aware of that. But it's exhausting!" She suddenly lashed out, making him feel the urge to reach out to her. But couldn't and it rendered him helpless and useless.
Still he sat calmly, listening to her -- letting her voice out her pains.
"It's exhausting," she repeated, her voice calm this time. "How everyone views my life through rose coloured lenses, you know they all think I've got a sort of personal affair with perfection. The clueless bunch. When in reality, they're the ones who's gotta be grateful for being blessed. They've not had a bloody stare down with darkness, they've not woken up in the middle of the night, thinking of ending their own life just because they've had it to the brim."
He could hear the sadness laced in her voice, spiced with a dollops of desperation. Quite a recipe for a broken soul.
"Each waking moment blooms to a ray of hope, with me hoping to find that light in the dark tunnel which has always been my life. Most times I dream TJ, of a scripted life. A place where I could rewrite my story, where I could have a say in all life has dumped on me without being hit with the sad reality like a speeding mack truck. But it seems like no matter how much lemonade I try to squeeze off the lemon life has dumped on me, no matter how hard I try to hold unto being steadfast, I still end up losing to life. I'm still that vanquished soul, who's tugged and gone to war-- putting in her all, but still ends up being defeated."
Her voice trembled at the end of her sentence. And all he could imagine was her wearing that pained expression, fed up of keeping up with her frontings.
He could envision her stripped raw, wearing her emotions like a cloak. It tugged right at his heart -- the image that is. It tugged and pulled so hard, he felt it'd left a scar behind.
He wanted to reach out, take her into his arms and whisper words of assurance into her ears. All the while, holding back from pounding on the damn door.
"I want to believe that I have a Father who's somewhere out there, having nothing but thoughts of me, hoping to reach out somehow. I want to believe so badly that this is a bad dream but I swear, I'm tired. I'm tired of believing, tired of hoping. Each time I feel I've taken a victory lap, I'm reminded that I'm far from being a victor. The ugly reality always lurks around, waiting to demolish my air castles every goddamn time!" He heard her sob, her voice broken and quiet.
While he sat back, unable to do anything but listen with a broken heart, himself.
She carried on for quite a while, till there were no more tears left to shed.
Silence filled the space they occupied and this time, the twitting birds sang no more, the clashing waves stood still. Reeling from the heart breaking impact of her words.
TJ had never felt so helpless in his entire life.
He heard her sniff.
"Do you- do you think I'm possessed?" She asked, her voice so quiet he almost missed her question.
His heart broke at her question.
Oh Dear, who fed you with such bull!
TJ felt like the air he was inhaling seconds ago had been infiltrated with teargas. "No," he assured with conviction. "You're nothing but human who's trying to handle life's temperamental sessions."
She snorted. "But I'm black TJ. We were made to handle our emotions better and I can't redeem myself, not even for a second. I think I'm cursed with infinite pain."
It was his turn to snort. He'd always heard his friends talk about going black and thick skinned, with hearts made of elastic and other beliefs he couldn't help but argue against.
"That's philosophical poison and a bucket load of self-help crap. Being black doesn't make you any less a human or more. We're nothing but humans and we can't go against the law of nature. Pain was made to be felt -- by us humans, alongside every other emotion, be it good or bad. It's an inevitable part of life."
"What if it's too overwhelming, what if I can't handle all the rollercoaster rides I'm being thrown into? Doesn't that make me less of a human?"
"It feeds your strength to keep fighting. And trust me, life doesn't throw you into a situation beyond your strength limit. If you feel you've reached your peak, a point where you can't fight no more, you let go, you've got a choice to either seek help or wallow in infinite pain."
"But letting go means giving up. Aren't we meant to fight for redemption? Fight till we've found peace?"
He shook his head, refuting her theory. "Letting go doesn't mean giving up. It's giving oneself a chance to emerge victorious in the long run. What we don't know is that, letting go means, sharing too. Giving yourself a chance to be helped. That's why you have us as friends. You've got all of us to care for you and you don't know how dear you are to us. If need be, we'd move a mountain just to see you happy. Never forget this."
Silence ensured, pregnant and uncomfortable.
"Thank you." She whispered after what seemed like eons.
He shut his eyes, breathing in the cool breeze that swept pass him. "For what exactly?"
"For sticking around -- being here."
"I'd rather not be anywhere else."
He rested his head against the door, with thoughts as grey as the walls surrounding him. Her aforesaid words slicing through his heart repeatedly.
"Thank you... For sticking around -- being here." She'd said like he was with her out of obligation.
He let out a huff, palming his head as-if trying to rid his mind off, all she'd poured out to him.
She didn't know how much hold she had on him. She'd got him wrapped around her tiny fingers that he'd gladly jump off a cliff if she requests such from him. Hearing her speak, had torn him to shred. He'd felt rage rise so high in him like a mighty wave, devouring him whole. Rendering him with nothing but the plunging need to avenge her. The emotions he felt all thrilled and scared the hell out of him, he'd never felt so broken over another's despair before.
Only her.
He thought, sighing out in realization. She was the only one who spurred such reaction out of him. Her joy was like a healing balm to him and her pain? What it did to him went beyond words. It tore and clawed at his heart, messing up his sanity.
And at that moment, the message his heart had been trying to convey became crystal clear. Hitting him hard like a lightning bolt.
Silence stretched from mere seconds to what seemed like nanoseconds and soon, he heard soft snores and the slight interruption of sniffing sounds. He didn't need a soothsayer to inform him that she'd been crying all these hours she'd taken to locking herself in.
"Chimdi?" He called calmly, but got no reply from her.
With one leg outstretched and the other bent, he reached for his cellphone from his back pocket. The time being displayed had him spewing strings of colourful curses. He didn't know so much time had passed since he sat at the doorstep.
He stood up, static causing pains to shoot up his joints due to lack of necessary locomotives. The house was damn silent as he listened for any sound. Figuring out that Jiki was definitely not back and Elo was probably still sulking, he decided to give the fairer boy a call and ask him for spare keys. He wasn't going to leave Chimdi sprawled on the cold floor all night.
Tired and totally fatigued, unintentionally, his hands pressed against the door knob as he deliberated on calling Jiki. And just like that, he found himself attending to gravity's demand with a stupefied look gracing his face.
He cursed out loud.
The door wasn't locked all these while.
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