You wake up every morning confident in your ability to see the next day.
Confident in your strength to make it through the day, never assuming anything disastrous could happen.
You hear of accidents – fatal ones and all you can manage is to shake your head, offer a silent prayer and thank God it’s no one you know.
Selfish? Very much so.
You take your life for granted sometimes.
You take your health for granted.
Sometimes, you take praying for granted.
After all your mother is a prayer warrior, you should be covered.
My prayer life surely is insignificant compared to that of this woman you say to yourself.
God understands, you conclude.
Then one day, after turning down loads of offers to galivant in a boite de nuit, you melt at the thought of a colleagues’ 25th birthday party.
He’s my brother at work you tell yourself. You gats turn up.
You get ready to have a fantabulous time somewhere in the heart of the clubbing world of Lagos.
You eventually turn up and sight familiar faces- all the better.
You are having some fun and then suddenly from nowhere your heart constricts.
Your lungs stop working and your life starts flashing before your eyes.
You know your inhaler is in your bag at home and that the small purse you brought with you has nothing but bare essentials in it.
You lose consciousness.
You come around to find yourself lying on the floor of a very popular club with three parts of your body bared to the world.
The shame floods in.
Then the pain commences.
You are taken to a pharmacy for drugs because ventoline does not do enough for you.
You were helped by strangers.
Most of them were.
By nature, you are your own confidante. Your Amazonian behavior only masked when you listen to beautiful music or stumble on literary pieces that pull your heart string.
You are not a sappy individual, mostly because you have had to be the strong one ever since the divorce.
The one who’s had to be a man and a woman for the whole family.
Your own hero.
But today, you are sober enough to realise that the acronym- YOLO is actually true.
So for the first time in ages without being prompted by anyone, words gather in your brain like a nimbus cloud.
You want to tell the world of how close you came to being tagged as a ‘ was’.
You want to appreciate the people that managed to haul your thick ass outside that club so you could get some fresh air.
You want to especially say thank you to a Dr. Tobi, John, Adiza, Ifeoma and Eghosa because they are the ones you remember when you finally became lucid.
You hope they get to read this – all of them that came out to make sure you did not become a casualty.
You pray earnestly that someone somewhere turns up when they and theirs need help!