There's someone.

Where? I have no idea. Could be right in front of you.

Spotify cued Brymo’s Méjì Méjì and this, well, this happened.

The hook goes: “Méjì Méjì làá d’áiyé o” (we are created in twos.)

You wonder if, perhaps your own ‘significant other’ found another significant other (They probably found out you eat beans. Should you start eating fish? I don’t know man, maybe you should.)

You wonder.

Reminds me of that Popular TikTok sound, “maybe my soulmate died, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have a soul.”

You wonder.

Is it the Amala slander?

You wonder.

Oláwálé Olófóòrò, have you sold me dreams?

Wallpapercave.com Togetherness Wallpapers

You wish to not have to fight every battle yourself again,

Perhaps, life is easier when you have the one, the one who stands with you,

And to not have to be the watcher on the wall every day,

Because you can let down your guard when there’s another to be a lookout.

But not just anyone.

…

You suddenly need more than presence,

Lately, the “I’m here” isn’t enough,

You want to be heard and replied,

None of that listening ear bullshit anymore.

You've been alone for too long, have mastered coping mechanisms for loneliness, and drown it out with your too-loud claims of enjoying your own company. Those memes are really something, aren’t they?

They all know now, they envy how self-sufficient you are. They are blind, blind to your desperate exaggeration by their own equally desperate need to appear enough in each moment that seeks to reveal just how needy they are (as though it is pathetic to need more than oneself.)

But at midnight, when the hollowness comes to eat you alive with the playful wickedness of a disease gleefully sweeping aside the puny barricades placed haphazardly in its path, you may surrender to the admission that you’ve fooled everyone but yourself.

You express everything in your weeping admissions to your worn-out heart:

“I crave warmth.”

“I need meaningful connection.”

“Nothing less than a kindred spirit would do”

What are you willing to sacrifice to experience the solace of shared understanding and the security of mutual trust?

Genuine warmth, coursing through the cells, heart and spirit with the kind of searing conviction that the electricity of romance cannot muster. Priceless.

You dream, and in your reverie, you’re not stunned or dazed by desire. You can see and think, maybe more clearly than ever, each outgoing thought pinging off a corresponding incoming thought as streams of expressed consciousness crisscross in the most delicious ways.

You discover pieces of yourself in another priceless person there. the elements that fear you and the elements that you adore. However, you are not terrified because, at last, you are not alone in the vast darkness of ignorance that engulfs what little understanding there is of oneself.

Méjì Méjì. You’re home.

*Enters sudden realization. I have done this before. I have.

You invited strangers into your sacred sanctuary and stood by helplessly as individuals who only understood how to wage war destroyed your peace.

We see too little of others until there’s little we can do to stop their madness when it shows itself.

Your back still aches from the knife wound. Nearly as painful as the ache in your heart is this. The cut of the trusted is the deepest.

So now you walk backward, sideway and every way but a straight line. You have many eyes but no reprieve. You don’t know what rest means anymore, shoring up your defenses against phantoms made from pieces of yesterday’s demons.

You always keep your fists clinched while you are anticipating anything. You never let your guard down. Always guiding.

Demons, both real and imagined, will always be present if horror is what you're after.

But hell isn't always other people.

Sometimes, you’re the one holding the match. Drop it and find a hand to hold instead. Find a hand that hold yours and squeezes it in validation — “I need and want you too.”

Oun tó wuni, lóún wáni (In Yoruba) - That which we desire is what finds us.

Inner piece is the result of a chain of events that starts with allowing yourself to escape the mental prison you built for yourself long enough to realise that even if you have far less control than you would like, that's good.

You acknowledge that having "together" is something you need and that it won't neatly fit into any framework or model you use to guide your adult life. And they may not be perfect, just like you.

You see, to trust is to surrender to a wave that never stops cresting. You won’t always surf elegantly but when you do, it’ll be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever done.

As the show goes on, let yourself go so that you can have more than yourself. It’ll be the most beautiful thing.

I hope you wake up one day and think, “Brymo may be right afterall.”

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