Her Thought Piece

Momma, it's been one month. No calls. Nothing. Well I know you're old fashioned like that and I accepted that texting will never be your thing, unless of course under special circumstances. (Where you communicate in letters, whew, I guess if you mastered Morse code then dots would have been the story of my life.) The last time we talked you were working on something, I mean, money for school fees and upkeep. So one month, what have I been eating? Or what is going on back there? Momma, folks here expect me to call back, that's what a good daughter should do. I unlikely pass the bar on relationships but mum I can't call you. I think of you everyday that goes and I know better than to call so fast. Because everything I want to tell you starts with I need money and ends with I need even more money than before. You know long before, you'd call me at least twice a week, from butt-dials, to goodnights, to checking up on me and talking to all my friends; you know

“You look lovely,” he says. I can hear his tenor voicing these words close to my ears. They dance around my ear lobes for a while and somehow they feel like an itch nearing my eardrums. But close is as far as they get, and I turn my head to look at him. I glare like I heard nothing. I guess that teeny weensy rush of wind I went against in the process swept those words away. In all sincerity, I felt nothing. My walls went up, on hearing those words. My fatal and first instinct is to bat away these words people use as gate-passes into our fragile hearts. Most of the time they want something right? So during my vincible days my head goes sprawling, “oh! What does he want? Definitely not me. With all this height I still look so naive? At only the first glance? Or what’s his dysfunction anyway. Would you save those words for that other girl? she looks like her life depends on it. I’m furious within this poker face and beneath the neatly plaited lines on my head. He is probably

I look at generational gap in so many ways, and my parents just make it clear how lost they feel living amongst us. Well, my dad made it even crisper, ha-ha. I had my series in CDs and would leave them at the TV area. So someday, my dad got ahold of walking dead which he chose to watch at night, mistake number one. All we could hear was him gasping, “My goodness!” every other two seconds in some kind of tone. Worse, he was alone in the living room. My old man is brave, those zombies are driving him crazy but he keeps on, until when he realizes that this thing won’t end. Well, he wasn’t raised watching series. So he relinquished the trauma! I too, got really cold chills watching XYZ but my amusement couldn’t let me back down till I got used to them, even horror movies don’t do nothing to me anymore, except Hannibal. It’s a thriller that apprehends me, and I need the lights on to get through it. All this time I zoom into the film industry asking myself why? I mean what are these