Just not spice. 🌶

​Money makes the world go round. That’s how the saying goes right? It’s funny how much you can crave the root of all evil and how much you despise yourself for not having some when your life changes. 

Hi, my name is Sandra and I’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer. I don’t want to hear the I’m so sorrys or the Oh my God you deserve better from the world because I have heard it countless of times in the 4 corners of this draining hospital ward. Let’s also keep in  mind that all of the I’m so sorrys refuse to donate a thousand naira or two to my cause. Just come in everyday, look at me with fake pity and mutter those stupid 3 words. You all are lucky I’m in pain. I would have used one of the breasts to smack you in the face. 

And then the you deserve better people. Or I cant believe this happened to you. If you can’t believe it so much, how about you get on your knees and beg God to switch places. You, laying on this bed while each cancer cell grows and writhing in pain and me, looking down at you muttering the same words. 

I can’t believe this happened to you. 

Yes! I have a lot of anger inside of me. Maybe that might be just why I’m writing this before I take my life myself. I mean, I already know I’m going to hell. How about we put a little cherry on the cake? 

I want to tell my story. Maybe I can dissipate all of this rage and then the fire that consumes me would not burn internally too. Thinking about those unspoken words of mine. 

For half of my lifetime, I lived a very sad life. I was a human not only clothed in societal expectations but also drowning in all forms of validation who just wanted her father to look at her once and say, Oh I’m so proud of you. Well done. Maybe that was why I tried my very best. I was the straight A student. I was the child who never spoke when she was shouted at and I was the one who collected the insults and never said a word back. I was the girl who wrote the saddest poems and screamed in the bathroom begging for my life to be taken away from me and then later that very day? I was the girl who smiled the brightest and told everyone life was a fucking gift to humanity. Ha! 

This is the last thing y’all will hear from me, so I admit, I lied. 

Life is a fucking nightmare! If you can, get out as fast as you can. Don’t live one more moment. It really isn’t worth it. 

For the other half, I rebelled. Harder than rebelling had ever be done, I’d nickname myself Queen. Queen of telling those bastards to fuck themselves. Queen of doing what I wanted to do.

 A queen, Living in this messed up kingdom waiting for her turn to leave. You know how it goes in all these novels.  There’s a triggering incident and then boom! The good girl goes rotten. My triggering incident might have been the day I cried for straight up 13 hours in a bathroom stall screaming and tearing apart,ripping my hair and wondering why I was even alive. 

But the rotten aspect? I’m afraid I always had a little rotten breeding inside of me for a long time. 

So, yes yes. You know how the story goes. 

The girl who always went quiet when he was getting yelled out started to scream

 ‘’Fuck you, you don’t get to talk to me like that”  with her middle fingers up in the air!

And the girl who used to study for months, getting no sleep, falling sick and crying at how miserable her life was, started to throw caution to the wind, sleep for hours on end to avoid life problems and drank herself till she was a stuttering blabbering mess when she thought of her life. 

The girl who would sit by the window side with a book in her hand and a pen, scribbling away and making beautiful words about the emptiness she felt within began to write only about how alive she felt. How much satisfaction she got when she rolled one up and how much a drag put her mind at ease. 

But, she began to smile. 

Not those stupid fake smiles she p[plastered to her face so no one would see her facade and ask her what was wrong. 

A real smile, showing all of her teeth, shining so brightly. 

It was beautiful.

I used to look myself in the mirror and say to myself “Wow, this you!?” 

I was the happiest I had ever been. But everything comes at a price y’know? How light my soul was beginning to feel, not like  heavy rock I had to lift everyday. Everything comes at a damned price. 

When I felt the first sharp pain in my boobs, I laughed. I had not felt anything hurtful in months and it reminded me I was still human. You can call me psycho but I loved it. It was one of the reasons I never went to see a doctor. 

It would come and I would clutch my breast and relish it until it left again. 

But I continued living my life. The little doses of pain were a reminder. Just a reminder. That pain exists in this life and it would be a constant factor in my very own life.

Don’t shake your heads in pity. I hope I become a ghost when these drugs start to kick in. To haunt everybody who feels a slightest bit of pity for me while reading this. 

Assholes. 

The pain increased. But I told myself I was a strong woman. 

Well, up until I collapsed on the floor writhing in pain.

You see, I come from a very influential family and till today, I can’t exactly pinpoint the moment they disowned me. 

Was it when I showed up drunk for Christmas?

C’mon it’s a happy celebration. I had to be happy too. 

Or when they came in my room and saw the weed on my bed?

That wasn’t entirely my fault. No one understood what privacy was?

When I was the golden child, they always said my praises but I was unfulfilled. Life had lost it’s taste but hey? The chocolates they gave me had some sugar.

Just not spice.

Not enough to spice up my deranged life.

I maybe deviating a little but dear parents, if you’re reading this, the 6 year old cutie who won the spelling bee competition and made the surname so popular is dead. 

Ha! Relish in it. 

I hope I cause you pain too.

Although I’m afraid it’ll never be equal to the pain you’ve caused me. 

As I sit on this bed, trying to sit up by adjusting a breast well, I wonder how much pain I wouldn’t have had to endure if only you had thrown a couple dollars my way. 

But your money is only for your useful children isn’t it?

And I’m afraid poor little Sandra has proven herself useless. And worthless. 

I’m sure the last time you saw me still haunts you. But don’t claim not to have seen my messages. Me, begging for just some sponsorship and don’t think I didn’t hear the argument outside my ward when you came to visit you had said, but I know you wanted to pay condolences. Homage.

To your dead daughter.

Your daughter dead to you already that you were just waiting to be clinically dead so you’ll act for the public.

The perfect parents.

Aww.. what a cute sight. I’m sure nobody would know y’all decided it’s my bed and I should lay on it and I needed no help. 

The perfect parents. 

Indeed. 

Tsk, enough about the negativity. 

To Chima, Obinna and Tunde, who just loved the ‘good girl gone bad’ narrative and stuck around only when I had a blunt to offer, may your reproductive organs rot and your pockets always run dry. 

(Mum you better be proud I didn’t use the d word. )

Don’t do drugs kids.

Love, 

Angry Bitter Sandra.

PS: If you ever came visiting and dropped flowers, they suffocate me and you’re the reason for my death you fucktard.

Dear Reader, 

I admit this is not something you’re used to. It’s negative, it’s mean, it’s sarcasm but hey? It’s art and I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it too?

Let me know if something made you smile, gasp or earn just one reaction out of you! 💕

Image from India Today.