*deep, heavy, negro, spiritual sigh* – Issa Rae, 2017
Adulting… whew! Am I right or am I right ?
This is definitely not what I signed up for !
I remember when I was growing up, watching all these American movies gave me this false sense of freedom I could have as an adult. I used to spend my day dreaming about how independent and free I’ll be once I turn 18. Then I turned 18, and realised that I am still not free. Either I was sold an unrealistic dream or I had too much expectations as an African child. I guess I’d go with the latter. Anyways, as I got older, I got that freedom I so much craved. And boy… this freedom/independence thing is no joke. I swear my father kanto.
I am currently 27 and all I can think of is “fuck my life ! Is this what the rest of my life is going to look like ? cus I cannot live like this for the rest of my life.” Just when you think it might get better, some bullshit pops up like “yo, what’s gucci *throwing gang signs*”. Sometimes I wish the earth would just open up and swallow me. Not to give the impression that I am suicidal or whatever, but sometimes when I wake up in the morning, I cannot even believe i am awake. I find myself saying, “damn ! I cannot believe I am alive again but I guess we gotta get this shmonnneeeyyyy.” Then I laugh it off and go about my day. Because, honey, if you don’t laugh it off, you fit craeaaaze. [Now playing: Crazy tings by Tems]
It is a Sunday night as I am typing this. Tomorrow is obviously a Monday. Gotta leave home by 7 am so I can get to work early. It’ll take me approximately an hour to get to work. Within that hour, baby …
I might probably have to fight a trotro mate who wants to cheat me off my change;
I might end up sitting by someone who’s sweaty and smelly, and I might probably have to hold my breath throughout the entire journey but thank God for nose masks (Also don’t stop wearing your masks. COVID is still out there);
I might have to dodge those preacher men at the trotro station trying to prophesy to you for one cedi (Everybro pick ein mind for this city). I truly do not see the difference between them and these rascals I have to hide my valuables from when I’m passing through circle – that place should NOT exist under any circumstance;
I might have to deal with all that traffic and commotion, simply because grown men and women lose their sense of reasoning when they get behind the wheel.
I might get some looks here and there cus I’m using an umbrella when it’s not raining. Listen! I cannot stand this Accra sun. Look, no amount of sunscreen can save you from this heat (but don’t forget your sunscreen tho). I have a friend who used to say that Accra sun is probably prepping us for hell; but the gag is, we are actually living in our personal hell in this city.
This is a typical morning before 9 am.
And when you get to work, do not get me started on those emails, and those fake laughs and smiles and all that passive aggressive behaviour. I cannot do this any more. *Crying real nigga tears* By 2pm, your brain is tired. It’s almost as if you cannot function anymore but you have to keep going because you have a deadline to meet and this report is not gonna write itself. Even when it’s 5pm you have to hide your bag and run away from the office because if your boss catches you, wahalurrrrr. They say it’s 9 – 5 but it really is “8am till whenever your boss says akapasku“.
Just the other day I was thinking of how people who work a regular 9 -5 acquire a potbelly. Honestly, I don’t blame them. When you get home from work, you just want to take off your wig and your bra and your kpaint, pour yourself a glass (more like a bottle) of wine, take a cold shower and call it a night. You cannot be bothered about anyone or anything. You just want some peace of mind. Sorry for you if you have to come home to a full house. You don’t want to hear kpim – not even the sound of your phone. You cannot even catch up on your favorite shows or do the things you want to do or loved doing when you were growing up. I love working out so much but I don’t remember the last time I went to the gym or played tennis. Somewhere within the week, I was saying to myself how I might retire journaling (something that brings me so much comfort). Not because I don’t enjoy it anymore. Simply, because it feels like it’s a chore now. It feels exhausting writing your thoughts down because you are constantly tired. You’re telling me I have to write and type all day at work and when I come home I have to do the same thing for pleasure ? No sweetie. I cannot find that balance because this child is tired and she wants to go back into her mother’s womb. Also, I cannot believe this is the same energy we are required to use to participate in social events. This December, do not invite me out because I am tired. It’s just me and my bed all the way honey. But on the real, your job takes away all your time and your joy. You practically spend 3/4 of your life there, just because you want to buy some one or two nice things? We cannot even afford to buy these nice things because the economy is killing us. Just living from hand-to-mouth. It should be illegal to go to work on Friday, even Thursday.
You know what gets to me? When people act as if you dare not be tired. It was a Wednesday and I told someone how tired I was feeling. She couldn’t believe her ears. Talking about, “Ei you’re in your prime oo. You shouldn’t be tired at all”. Auntie, we dey taya oo. Y33bl3. Y33bl3 papa paa. Don’t tell me what you’re telling me kwraa. Also, why can’t we express ourselves and talk about our challenges without people making it seem as if we are lazy. I do not need to hear your struggles when you were my age. My ancestors paid for that. I do not need this. I need this baby girl lifestyle asaptually.
Can I just live ? Damn !
Bro ! I AM TIRED ! Words cannot express how tired my tired is.
You know what, let me just stop here. I have too many things to rant about but it’s almost 9:30pm and my bedtime is approaching. This sweet-mommee life will not kill be but…
GOD IS KING. FOREVER AND ALWAYS.
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