Olúwafèyíṣarámi

Winter, my season of smiles Or is it Harmattan, the cold but dry weather. Either one, I love November/January season. It brings so much smiles to my heart. My lips may chap, my skin may scale but, It is a season when my page flips unto a new one. Resolution, they call it. I call it re-evaluation and reconciling the books. No other season slaps so much sense into me Like the freezing weather. Its so cold my cheeks tingle, nose run and eyes water. It is one where I don't care much for what I wear but I never get it wrong; It is one where I get to spread my clothes and I'm certain they will be crisp dry in a matter of minutes; It is a season when I have to wear my shoes all the time or high flip-flops just to prevent my feet from the dust It is so much entangled into one wonderful ball. I feel wonder, beauty, compassion, confidence, strength, romance, love, joy, hope; I feel adventurous, grounded, free, lightweight....a season when I dare to fly and then I soar....

I have heard many excuses Reasons why he hasn't come forward.... He is shy He is afraid He is burnt He is hurt He is ashamed.... Blablabla But he has had many chances And does what he usually does. Nothing has changed No matter how I want to believe different. The echoes of the past ring loud still. Loud enough to be a problem... Truth is that he won't. He can't. If he considered it, the signs will be there. He might never say it But I know He isn't that into you. If he wants something He does know how to get it If you are a part of his big plan, You will see yourself in it. Don't hope Just accept it. He is not that into you.

Everybody seems to be getting along fine Perhaps, its just the season Or maybe there's a common interest that I don't know about Like fish out of water, I just don't get how to breathe. What is wrong with me? No mata what I do, It never works Rather, the despise grows. I have heard many excuses and I've believed every one of them I have related with you based on this and yet I'm stung I'm confused. Really confused. Is it me? What is wrong with me? I call u brother. I call u friend. Yet is it too much to ask that you care for me? Is it too much that you act your words? I hear the words, I see no action. What do I believe when my expectations r continually dashed by you? Maybe its you. Perhaps you can't help it. Maybe its me continually putting myself in harm's way. But I'm tired of it all. And I'm calling it quits. To brotherhood. To friendship. Till you choose to resurrect. Adeiu.

We will all be what it is we want to be We will all work the path we want to tread We will do what it is we want to do Irrespective of how much we shout Or how much truth is laid before us... We will only see as much as the picture in our heads will allow. We are only limited by what we see.