So hi, it’s SugaRush.
Yeah I know you are mad.
This is not a story. It’s not a rant either. It’s not supposed to be an amazing work of art. (so those of you who read my posts and see the need to tell me that my writing was not good enough, should please stay clear)
It’s just a flow of my thoughts. I’m sincerely certain that I’m in an early midlife crisis.
I’ve got almost everything that I need at this stage of my life. I have great friends, a job that makes me smile, a good sense of humour, an amazing body (yes, it is and I know), good grades, a boyfriend, boys that stalk me and a bank account that reminds me of a straight face smiley.
But I am not happy.
I’m really not. Nothing seems to please me anymore. Things that used to excite me have become mundane. I’ve tried being happy, but it’s like pouring water in a basket.
So I’m writing this, to probably rationalize why and how I got to this point.
I met a middle aged man in a public transport some days ago. He was clad in native, he had the air of a Yoruba man born into a wealthy family and had Western Education all his life. He wore no hair on his head. I’m guessing he is probably bald.
We began a conversation about Chiamanda Adichie. (I love that woman, I think my existence is to worship her writing) So me and Middle-Aged Stranger began talking for more than an hour on every and anything. We talked about Nigerian politics, education, Vladimir Putin (this guy is my favourite topic), Twitter, Boko haram and just about anything.
Then suddenly I realized that I was laughing, sharing and actually enjoying myself with a complete stranger and it came so easy to me.
I couldn’t remember sharing with anyone that earnestly in a while. I have ,for a while been the accepting one, always being there for others, listening to them, encouraging them, going out of my way to make them happy and never expecting anything in return.
In truth, I actually do expect these things in return but I never say that I do. I pretend that I don’t care. But I care. I really do care. I fucking care.
I want to be pampered. To be pleased. To be supported. To be surprised. I want all these things. I want to receive attention rather than only give it.
Maybe that was why I was happy to jump on a strangers little attention. A listening stranger. A stranger than looked at me with tender admiration. A stranger that gave me attention.
I’m kinda sounding like I’m attention hungry. Well, who isn’t?
I want more. I don’t exactly know what more is, but I know I want it.