I’ve never aspired for marriage or to be married. I didn’t think it was something to actively aspire to be, which some may consider a major failing.

I aspired to be a doctor.

I aspired to be happy at it.

And that’s it.

It was always a second thought, undecided and lying in the background. I assumed once I found my life’s purpose, once I started walking in the path that God designed for me everything else would fall into place. So finding someone took a backseat to finding a purpose.

But I’m starting to get looks, to realize that Nigerians won’t consider me successful, whole, accomplished or secure without a husband.

They continue to view the unmarried lot as unfortunate and lacking in some unknown fundamental quality to attract a mate and keep a home. Suddenly the entirety of my existence is determined by that singular quality.

As a woman in some circles, a ring earns audience. The little flash of gold band and suddenly everything that spills out of your mouth is pure wisdom.

I don’t understand it

Is it a shared camaraderie in the ability to suffer another’s existence for your eternity. Oh she’s married, she knows what I’m going through, so yeah I’ll listen to her.

While the unmarried ones are pitied the ones with the nerve to leave the institution are ostracized.

But that’s okay..

I’m starting a bit late with trying to conform to cultural expectations.

I will aspire to marriage.

I wrote a poem.

But nobody read it

I wrote down words, made them sentences. They detailed my experience

But nobody has seen it

The joy and expectations laid down in black and white

Nobody comprehends it.

If darkness makes us appreciate light and Silence makes us miss the noise.

If joy is appreciated because we’ve known sadness.

Then does it count if nobody traveled the roads with me.

Trailing along to forge the path with me.

Does my experience count if it was just me?

But then somebody saw it.

somebody read it.

somebody comprehends it and nobody becomes somebody.

Somebody becomes everybody.

It makes no sense for everybody to see it.

Everybody made the path foggy. And my worry deepens.

Maybe nobody should have seen it.

Maybe nobody should comprehend it.

Maybe if I’m the somebody, it will be good enough for everybody.

I’ve decided to start a side hustle, i’m going to be an inspirational speaker because of my annoying optimism, and what better use for a decade in medical school?i’ve learned annoying optimism in the face of gut wrenching hopelessness, to look at dying embers and wish them into a burning flame.I’m not about to convince anyone to see the glass as half full, or inspire with false hopes of a bright future, I actually began as a pessimist with Murphy’s law as a screen saver..I’m just going to tell you about me, the amazing weirdness of my convulated thoughts, the impossible gladness of my heart with the simple things in life, why I always help snails cross the road, why I like running in fields and why i think chickens need more legs.I’m hoping to make people laugh at life with me.life is short, sad, unfair, bleary, bleak but you can find your happiness.and I hope to God we find happiness. not the kind that makes us put on a fake smile because we think we should be happy

– or the kind we think will be short livedfollowed by pain and suffering.

not that kind, but the real and raw happiness that lights up body and seems to radiate from our soul.

I miss the days when all I had were dreams. The cool September nights in Lagos, staring at the stars while lying on the back of my father’s toyota.

Things were easy then. I could close my eyes and picture the future I wanted, who i was going to be in that future. It seemed so far away, it was easy to dream, to wish. I didn’t get boggled down by little details because I’m a dreamer you see.

Always plotting, sometimes scheming, my head forever lost in a cloud. I figured it wasn’t hurting anyone so I’m going to build the biggest nest the sky.

It really wasn’t hurting anyone. But a decade down the line? It’s harder to settle when you’ve groomed yourself for better. The heart becomes restless and it starts to yearn for the dream it was promised and it beats with a steady staccato rhythm of “why. Not”

Everything else pales in comparison till it convinces your brain to just try..

Cause that rhythm? It keeps you up at night, it crawls through you, becomes a deafening sound till it’s all you can hear, see, breathe and feel. It’s a sickness and the failure you fear must surely be better than this.

So buckle up

Close your eyes.

Feel the silence.

Listen your heart race.

feel the need course through you.

Take a deep breath..

AND PLUNGE IN.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton