I was looking through my hotmail inbox today and found this 500 word narrative that I’d done in 2004 for my grade 12 creative writing class. Have you ever written something, gone back to it and was like damn!?!?!?!... I wrote this?!?!?!?!... no? well I have… lol. I hope y’all have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. This is one of the reason’s my English teachers urged me to become a journalist (oh but that plan got fucked somewhere along the way… but oh well… I’ll always have this!)
Love is morphine; when addicted; you would rather not live with it, but you almost can’t live without it. With the passing of time, you get more dependent until you wake up one day and realize that while the happiness from either source is fleeting, its’ aftereffects live with you and taunt you for the rest of your life. You see love in every word, every action and every gesture until one day reality comes knocking on your door. Reality could be anything from a letter, a stranger, a loved one, or in my case coming home after nine months of war to find the most shocking surprise of my life.
“I’m not really sure what’s going on here, Obiora.” The Dr. looked at me a bit oddly and said, “But, here, you can look at Chinwe’s ultrasound results for the baby’s birth date.
Then suddenly, it hit me like a bullet in the kneecap from an AK 47; I couldn’t possibly be responsible for Chinwe’s pregnancy because I’d been away two months longer than she was pregnant. It was just too much of a stretch. A muscle started throbbing in my head, and this soon turned into a full-blown headache. I began to see red, I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t believe that she had done this to me, but I had just seen the evidence myself. My wife, my queen, my love, my life, and my all... she had just betrayed me, she had just turned my world upside down. I blindly stumbled home, packed up all my stuff and came back to the Biafran war zone; at least I knew I could take refuge in the monotony of the shooting, bullet dodging and despair around me. I wanted to bury myself in that monotony because otherwise, I would begin to pay attention to the searing and scorching pain I felt in my heart, which branded me forever a fool.
I previously viewed love as the answer to all my questions in life. Only after this betrayal did I begin to see love for the poison it really is, a poison, which seeps through your body into your soul, infecting every part of you with its venom. You become so enamoured that you lose sight of what it really is- a merge of dissension, disharmony, darkness and discord. Love is a trap, which lures you in for promised sweets, but ultimately leads to your destruction. With all the bullets, bombs and body parts flying everywhere, I feel nothing but numbness and desolation. All my hope is gone.