A Long Way From The Playground

1D Baby!

So I wanted to write something Deep. I promise I had ideas: a boy who found his mom floating on the lagoon, it’s morbid I know. Climate change? You know the world is kinda melting into oblivion right? I wanted to write about the infinitesimalization of women and exaggeration of masculinity in social spheres and work places. (I might or might not have made those up to sound EDUCATED, or whatever.) I wanted to write about THINGS THAT MATTER but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Again.

Tell me this one thing, it’s been on my mind, how would our meet cute go, if we would ever have one? I really wish to know what you see when, maybe if, you envision both of us meeting again? Do you picture a reunion like I do? A high school reunion would be more plausible. Do I walk in wearing red and minimal makeup? I really do hope I’m not wearing red, you can make it a brown dress. Thank you.

Do our eyes meet as I settle into my seat while you do whatever schmathing it is guys do at reunions? Do you smile at me like you did that day when I returned after a week of radio silence and multiple uncertainties? Or the day when I thought I had come to say hello and goodbye? Do you walk over to ask me if I need water or juice like you did when we were both young and you offered to give me your money so I could eat something? You thought I’d have forgotten right? Of course not. I wasn’t even hungry, besides it was my rule to “never collect money from boys" then but you should know that it was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me.

Tell me, do you feel flustered like you did when we met briefly that day? There’s a smile on my face as I think of That Day: You with your rascal of a friend, walking the roads of Unilag as though you owned everyone and everything. I saw that look on your face before I called out to you, the look of contentment and confidence. I was mad at you then, how dare you feel so good when you were not with me? Why didn’t you feel as miserable and incomplete as I did? I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction as I watched the smirk fall off your face when you saw me. I loved how the nerves kicked in and you couldn’t make coherent sentences. I relished in the fact that I remained calm and collected even as I introduced you to my girls. It was sweet to leave you there without even requesting for your number or heck, email address but the aftertaste of that victory was so bitter I dreamt about you for three days straight!

What about now, in your daydreams, are we mature enough to make coherent sentences? What do we say to each other? Well I know the first thing I’d say, I’d ask if I ever did haunt you in your dreams the way you did? Did I say words like “why did you have to leave me? I want to hold your hand. I have really missed you”? Did I make you search Google continuously like a madman on a mission to know what it means when you see someone in your dreams even after five years of non-communication? I’m very sure I didn’t, you were always a bit too extra.

In your daydreams, do you tell me you’ve missed me like the day you said it so offhandedly it threw me off or the day you sent it to me and I almost shed tears for what could have been? Do you come close and tell me, in that soft voice you used five years ago, that you like my perfume? Is it a bit of a stretch to wonder if, in your daydreams, we end up holding hands proper for the first time? Do we say the things we couldn’t say five years ago: me, why I left, and you, why you never reached out after that one time? The excuses I have made for us, do they hold water? That we can’t reach out because five years is a bit too long to keep on waiting for a miracle. That maybe I’m the only one still on this ship and you’ve left a long while ago to live your life.

I don’t want to go that route. I want to remain in my own daydream where you’re always here. I want to picture you smiling at me. I want to receive flowers and compliments from you. I want to strip myself of all my defences before you. I want to remain in that world where you looked at me as though I was worth looking at. I also want to do the looking too you know. I want to stare and stare at you. I want to hold your hands and take pictures. I want to dance and laugh with you. I want to tease you; I want to pray with you. I want to know the new you. Are you still as considerate and kind as you were? Are you still the guy who put his heart on his forehead for all to see? I don’t want my worst nightmare to become a reality— that you’ve moved on, forgotten me in the hands of history. I want to tell you hello, I’m sorry, thank you, I miss you, and I’m here.

I also want a trimillion billion dollars and houses in Switzerland and London but here we are.

If you’re still here, you should know I’ve just embarrassed myself but it’s cool, leave your claps and comments and move on. Let’s pretend the last 4 minutes or so did not just happen :⁠-⁠)

Thank you!