It was a Tuesday morning,

I walked to the assembly hall humming a sad tune, I looked up and saw Deji, he handed me a piece of paper, my hands shook a little as I opened it. “I love you,” it read.

I wanted to scream, cry and fart all at once. It was my first time and I knew I felt something, it was probably love but most times it represented itself as that feeling you get after eating too many questionable mangoes.

I stood there afraid, the ache in my stomach actively trying to mask the one in my heart. Could this be love I queried, or was I just going to have a huge fart.

I was talking to no one in particular…

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, looking at me as though he enjoyed every single weird move my stomach made. I stood there wondering why this boy would do this to me so early in the morning. My problem was not the time of the day this happened, it was that this was happening at all.

You see, I was different as a child; I took pleasure in things the dark mind would call weird and enjoyed sad songs because I was convinced that happiness was too exhausting. Now I wonder, what made me think that, I was only 16?

You see, Deji wasn’t incorrect in his assumptions; I was in love with him. I knew that my problem wasn’t the lack of love; it was the fear of thereof. This powerful feeling was threatening my sanity, it was tugging at my well rehearsed control over my feelings and emotions. You see, I hadn’t shed a tear since I was 12 years old. There I was with this phenomenon that rattled my very existence. I was genuinely worried at the ability to feel pure joy at the mention of a person’s name.

I was a random child, I read books, and ate way too many mangoes; I also preferred the taste of sour to sweet and tangy to creamy. I enjoyed my role as the assembly commandant and it was easily the highlight of my day. Most outspoken girl at school, president of the debating club, nothing was going to stop me.

But it was Tuesday morning and Deji had just handed me this time bomb,

I didn’t know what to do about the paper burning a hole in my pocket. I just walked weightlessly toward the assembly hall thinking to myself, “I’m alone now, it’s ok to fart”


….. This may be continued

Really, I don’t know what to do with this piece, I don’t even know if its any good, It’s a product of my musings.

What do you think?

According To Larz



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