I sent a story of my NYSC experience on stella's blog which happens to be my favourite blog. I am obsessed with blogs infact I think I have an addiction problem. Well today my story isn't about my addiction problems.
Well it turns out that people actually liked my story, my style of writing and I got good reviews. That just proves that I should take my writing more seriously.
I remember when I was in secondary school and I ran a thriving love letter/poem writing business. People read my poems because they were good and people loved my letters because they were deep.
Where did all of that go, where did those talents go. I wish I was committed to become better at writing or building my career as I am about the random inconsequential and toxic proclivities of mine that I indulge my self in.
So.... as I was writing this an old man walked into my office he looked derelict, his hands callused and brittle looking, his eyes held desperation and you could see the pain and hopelessness in his eyes.
He said he hadnt been paid at his place of work for over a year, he said he works with the ministry of Agriculture and that his family was dieing and hungry. He said he had children in higher institutions who had no hopes of getting their tuition paid.
I felt pity and so I gave him the little money I had on me, and then as he thanked me profusely a lot of thoughts crossed my mind. Thoughts like, why is life so difficult for some people, what if he is a ritualist, what if he was telling a lie and he tells bogus stories to get public sympathy which in turn gets him a few naira.
And then it occured to me, one would have to be really down on their luck to go around begging, here I was bemoaning the death of my writing abilities and out there somebody, a child may be had probably not had a good meal in months.
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