LIVING IN THIS SKIN OF OURS

2018-12-19T00:38:39+00:00By |Categories: Blog, Lifestyle/Motivation|0 Comments

Living in this skin of ours is like a good salad on a cold night, I don’t even know what that means. I just know sometimes living in this skin taste sweet and bitter alike. Sometimes, we just want to murder this skin and let whatever lives in it out. Other times, you kind of want this skin to last forever.

It doesn’t matter whether you drive Tesla or ride kabu kabu, sometimes living in this skin feels like shit and its not because life is messy – you just don’t know why. It’s good to own a car, have a wife, sex and whatever happens between the legs but when this skin gets us off on that path of emptiness, we quickly forget how great sex can be. Don’t throw me shades, I write as a sage that rhymes without a stage. And don’t loose your grit, we’re still talking skin baby.

She’s hot, she’s glam, she’s fab, beauty and brain but sometimes wearing her skin feels like hades, you know I haven’t been there – I mean hades but then it feels like I’ve been living there all my life.

He’s a hunk, from Harvard to handsome street, he’s got a great ride and a cozy crib; you can hang out with buddies or just chill but when twilight tock, his skin feels like frozen. It’s all empty, not because it doesn’t have enough but because, well I don’t know. Why do you feel you are tired of living in that body?

They could be rich and drive a limo, but hey they don’t always feel legit. Their skin burn too, no therapy gonna take away that feeling.

Why does this skin hurt? Sorry, I am just curious like you trying to make meaning out of this pain in my heart and yours. Don’t you feel it?

You know you should be thankful for the food on da table – some eat from piles of waste, thankful for water to quench the burns in thy throat because you know somewhere in Bayelsa some people don’t drink clean water.

Maybe you jug to work, or you fly molue, from Isale Eko to mile 2, or you do taxify from Mainland to Island or your personal driver comes around from Wuse to Gwagwalada or wherever you work.

Does this skin burn sometimes, does it make you cry, wanna escape or maybe borrow another skin. It’s not a question, I am just wondering.

Does it feel like you are great and still not really cool. You know you have great stuffs, a good house, hot babe and bobo, better children that make your single friends feel like fornicating; oh yeah, a good car, some money for Hawaii trip twice a year and few more to tip the waiter, a job with Gtb, or PriceWater Cooper, KPMG, Nigerian Breweries or an international Coy.

Maybe your salary comes in dollars or maybe your naira salary runs in six figures. But it never weighs up when this skin feels strange.

It could be anything that takes you from zero to hero, I didn’t call it heroine but hey when living in this skin feels like dung, getting high feels like superpower.

Hey, I’m not trying to make sense here because it feels like nosense when my skin makes no sense. And it’s okay if it doesn’t add up to you, nothing really does in the end.

Chill, it’s all yours for life.

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About the Author:

I am a blend of art, theatrics, creativity and nativity. I can be many things and here I choose to be the writer, the poet, the reviewer and every other badge this path affords me. I am the silent observer and artiste of no mean pedigree. This is my workshop and the pen is my pallet. I hope you enjoy it here.

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