Kindly Bear With Me… For I Too Am Tired.

A man is supposed to be a man - bearing his burdens, solving his problems and keeping his business very much to himself. I have done that too long and like another blogger once said, I choose to do myself a favour by writing this.

My apologies for starting this way. I’m supposed to post the concluding part of my earlier discourse I know but for some unknown reason I cannot bring myself to do this, at least not for now. Something seems to be wrong with me and being unable to place a finger on what it is only makes it worse. Whatever it is, the symptoms are similar to those of lethargy Laide blogged about not too long ago.

It definitely doesn’t help that my cover had been unceremoniously blown and by a close family member, no less. Actually, FBA says it so well in this post: Blogville sure has changed. And I feel SO TIRED… I recall back in the days when Badderchic wanted to go private. How ironic that I, one of the staunch advocates who discouraged her should toe the same line and go private myself.

Dear discoveress: you know me. I love writing uninhibited (apologies to DiaryOfANigerianGirl) and as earnestly as possible. But how can I rush here to recount yet another crazy experience I’ve encountered or gossip I’ve heard when I know you’re right there looking over my shoulder? You are reading this. Assessing me.

I can’t write like I used to anymore. I wish to express myself, type it out, lay it all out on the floor, dirty linen and all. But I recall you are reading this and so I end up stamping hard on the brakes instead, wondering what my family thinks when I blog about them. Would you for example, take offence if I were to tell them that you once had a lousy ex?

I have mulled over the options: going back to being private, locking down my blogs, even contemplated deleting everything and re-opening shop under a new alias and URL. But who would I end up deceiving? You or myself? I am so tired…

Nowadays I rather choose to be harsh on myself instead. Nothing I’ve done lately seems to go right. My dreams aren’t coming true. Love is totally evasive. Faith is dying. Hope is non-existent. There’s only one 8-letter word to describe what I presently am: F. A. I. L. U. R. E. Wait, that’s even seven letters.

Before you get me wrong, no this is not a pity party. I do not seek any. I need not your comfort either. I am just trying to use this outpouring as a catharsis, a balm to soothe my troubled soul. If I depress you, I am very sorry. The truth is I haven’t really liked me in a long while.

I strongly believe being idle is mainly responsible for why I think these thoughts. I am so redundant even the devil’s workshop denies me employment. Too much free time… The reasons for my depression are legion - so numerous that I tire of complaining. Like Rip van Winkle I wish to lie down only to re-awaken when things eventually decide to get better. Other times like now, I just want to rant, rent my heart out, rush here and pour it all out to you guys before I explode. Scream till I am empty inside. Then I catch myself. I am after all, a man…

I wouldn’t be so down if I had work. Whatever was I thinking when I resigned? Now, four months later, respect down the gutter, no stash, no cash and an on-going recession I keep wishing I could turn back the hands of time and rescind that decision.

Nothing breaks the spirit faster than going from independence to dependence. Going back to depending on your mom who worked so hard to raise you to be self-sufficient in the first place. Nothing kills the spirit quicker than the awareness of being destined for great things and doing nothing towards achieving them. The only thing more frustrating than the possession of myriads of untapped potential and talent is not the inability to use them but the knowledge of the possession itself.

It hurts to have interviewers shun you. It hurts even more when you volunteer to organizations and they never even call you back. Whatever happened to the love of free labour?

I dislike what I am: an inaccurate mathematical, biochemical, engineering equation. Output defies all attempts to equal input. Efficiency is in the minuses. Some look at me and think I must enjoy this existence: sitting home, watching TV, eating, sleeping, making night calls. Is this the life?

Many times my mind skips back to the varsity exam halls. I see me struggling to walk the straight and narrow while all around me my peers scheme, cheat and over-load their course forms. What was all the honesty for? Sitting here I see people half my age rocking True Religion, iPod, Acer and Blackberry. They trawl the web stealing credit card info and defraud gullible white chicks using phoney profiles on Yahoo Messenger and countless dating sites.

The dude besides me poses as an Interswitch Customer Service staff and a couple of fools actually call him and handover their PINs making him a couple of hundred grands richer. Scams are the new hustle and many times I am tempted to join in. After all I can write better stories than the dumb spam mails they send. Blast this conscience!!!

Then I check myself. I can’t do it. All those years spent raising me right ought to count for something. I may be poor but I’m proud I was raised right. Now if only that pride could be traded for cash…

Right now, as I slug it out, I’m still scared to think: what if I don’t make it? Other times I look and I can even touch it, smell it, that someday when I’ll be rich and famous.

Nothing is impossible. Getting my mind past “nothing” is half the battle. Yes, FAILURE I am. But one cannot be so bad at anything forever even if working hard towards failure. Luck happens. The suicide survives a drop from 30-feet while the 10-foot fall kills the optimist proving that the best will randomly occur even when we wish for the worst. Life happens.

I will look back one day and wonder if I really wrote this.

No doubt, someday there’ll be a kid who’ll be having these same feelings and feeling the sky will never be blue. Maybe then I will look into his eyes and see me. When I sign that autograph for him, I’ll remember me now and remember that nothing is impossible if only I set my mind to it.

Despite what it sounds like, this is not a pity party. I will be fine. After being down so long, the only way to go is up. So Help Me God.

I am after all, a man…