Journey to… Somewhere
Where shall I begin?
One day, I sat down in the middle of the night at a desk, in a school, in a country, in the world. Obviously. I sat there and proceeded to destroy my life. It was not the first time. It would not be the last.
The first time I destroyed my life, I was 10. I failed an entrance exam. In truth, this is only wishful thinking. It was not the first; it doesn’t even count. In my imagination, I would have died. In reality, I was already too late. The real first time I destroyed my life, I was 13 and I had no life to destroy.
Destroying your life is following the crowd. It is finding yourself on the ground in the middle of the night pressed against the bodies of two other boys and realizing you like it better laying on your side than on your back. No, not realizing. You do not have that depth. Destroying your life is an act carried out in obliviousness. It is finding yourself on the ground in the middle of the night pressed against the bodies of two other boys and not understanding why you like it better laying on your side than on your back.
But you lay on your side anyway.
Moving on
A series of nights in the first half of a year, I lay under my father’s roof and destroyed my life some more. I stared at the roof through hot tears that continued to flow as I pondered my life and realised it would be particularly easy to destroy. Then I typed and typed and destroyed it anyway.
A person exists only for a moment. The next moment, they are gone. They have been replaced by a new one who too will be replaced soon after. A person exists only for a moment and a moment is all it takes to destroy a life. How easy a life is to destroy.
And so, a person’s finger hits send on its way to delete and he is immediately whisked away by another passing moment while his replacement stares and panics because the boy we like now knows we like boys. The boy still doesn’t know he is a boy we like(d?)… probably.
How to remember
Memory is a tricky thing to keep in line. Often, we can not even tell stories in time. Jumping through from tomorrow to yesterday because it’s important for the audience to, “remember, this is only happening because we destroyed our life two days ago”.
Memory is a tricky thing because there is only a moment after a thing happens that its story can be properly told. There is only one person with the right to do that and in the next moment, they too will be replaced. Once the moment is gone, it never comes back. There is only one person who can tell a story, every other person can only tell it again.
Memory is a tricky thing but it must be bargained with. Because moments are infinite; there will always be another one. And a thing can be destroyed if there’s the time for it. And if a thing does not remember it was destroyed, it can be destroyed again. And if a thing does not remember it can be destroyed, it can not destroy itself.
Types of destruction
There are many reasons not to eat.
One is because there’s no money. Nigerians are poor. Naria doesn’t grow on trees even if the paper it’s made from does. Manna doesn’t rain from the sky in this part of the world. Rationing is a means of survival. The patient might live to once again see abundance (or to see it for the first time).
Another is because you don’t like the shape of your body. The curve of your hips or the bulge of your belly or the weight of your arms. Because looking in the mirror costs confidence and you already spent it all on your hair and face. And because the doctor said you’re healthy but you need to reduce small.
A classic is to prevent hypocrisy. You have refused belief, therefore, “thou hast set a table before me, in the presence of my enemies,” does not apply to you. And only a thief eats at the table of a man with whom they disagree. Only the wicked partake of the harvest of those who they cause despair.
And a favourite, because “depressed people do not eat, they starve”. So, you let your stomach rumble because that is how to earn your sadness. You say “no, thank you,” so that you can deserve your anxiety. And you report, “that was enough,” because only happy people take seconds. This is how to be destroyed.
How to !remain that way
We are persons; all of us. Here one moment, gone the next. Forever replaced by other persons, our next iterations, who too will be replaced in the next moment. We are persons, all of us, and we are only here for so long before we are whisked away again by the forever forward marching of time.
The story of your birth is told to you over and over again. You and your person are born in exposition. The story of your birth and what you did (not) eat for breakfast. This is how to remember.
A person was here before you, and they told you it all. But they are imperfect. They forget, they forgo, they overlook, they overemphasize, they flat out lie. A person will be here after you, and you will tell them it all. And you too will lie, because you too are imperfect and because you have been lied to.
You can not exist on the side of this dusty road and not catch this dust. The wind keeps blowing and time keeps marching forward and persons are born and persons are gone. The story of your birth has been told to you over and over and now you are not sure if you really did have breakfast.
To keep oneself clean in this dust storm is to constantly be engaged in battle. To be constantly engaged in battle is to be tired; drained. To be tired, to be drained, is to think that something is wrong with you, specifically. To combat this tiredness is to be persons with persons, to keep them clean and to be kept clean by them, to ride into battle by their sides. That is how to destroy yourself.
Next Steps?
Some days will be long. Your muscles will atrophy, your breathing will slow, your mind will fog and you will not remember why you ran. The minutes will tick as though they are hours and the seconds as though they are days and you will wonder if tomorrow is a good day for reconciliation. Some days will be slow but your heartbeat will not lose its quickness. Because it lives in the body.
Some days will be hard. Your fingers will ache, your back will bend, your head will throb and you will not understand what is wrong. The wind will blow but it will not carry away the heat and you will wonder when they will bring light. Some days will be fast but your mind will crawl. Because it lives in the body.
Some days will be devastating. Your body will shiver, your body will ache, your body will quiver and your tears will(/refuse to) fall. Warmth will feel like icicles and fresh air like poisonous gas. Some days will be heartbreaking and you will relive it all. Because it lives in the body.
Some days might be good, actually. Because we might not be alone. Because it might not be such a terrible thing to be lost. Because other persons might care for our persons enough to hang out with us on our patch of dusty road. Because we will kick it the fuck out.
Or try.
Somewhere
One day, I sat down in the middle of the night at a desk, in a school, in a country, in the world. Obviously. I sat there and proceeded to destroy my life. It was not the first time. It would not be the last.
The clock struck 12 and I said to myself, “I don’t believe that anymore.” I typed it out in so many words and from that day onward it was true. And since that day, I’ve typed it again and again and learned that it was true long before even then.
Destroying your life is walking through the corridors of your memory. Exploring the persons in your collage. Watching as your next persons grow your mosaic. Anticipating as they change the shape of you. Acknowledging the cracks where your persons meet.
You can not fix a thing if it’s not broken in the first place. You can not correct a mistake if it wasn’t a mistake. Destruction only succeeds in scratching off the paint. Destroying yourself is changing your shape.
We are persons; all of us. Mosaics added to with every passing moment. You can not remove the pieces that come before. You can only change the picture they make.
