I had opened this page up and thought that all the anger and vitriol that had found its way into my heart in the last 24 hours would come pouring out in this page, and now that I am writing, I realize that there is simply... Nothing.

I mean, I am still very angry. I am still hurt. But that is it. That is all it is, and the fact that I was hurt enough to want to write about it, is proof that this person, who does not deserve another piece dedicated to them, has still somehow managed to evoke an unwanted emotion in me.

I am angry, because I don't think I deserve what I have gotten so far, I am angry at so many things, but of this one, I am most angry, because it has taken me back to a place I did not wish to go. And so the best way to describe this feeling, is ire... It is intense, and it hurts.

However, this person does not deserve another writing from me, and so I will keep this short, because my part, I suppose, is not to dwell on the pain, but on the lesson behind the pain, that I must, again, remember to choose myself, and my peace, above all things. And to think only the right things, of myself and of only things I want to see grow in my life...

Philippians 4:8 (KJV)

"Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things."

This is about love, but not the kind of love that ends like a fairy tale, sadly. It's not the kind of love we know comes only from God-- that is, thankfully, a constant, and it remains evergreen, what a humbling love that is. But no, this is not that.

It's about a love I felt, in a time that felt like a lifetime ago. A love that engulfed my entire mind, and gave me a hope I hadn't felt, and have not felt since. And now, in retrospect, I don't understand why it did that for me, because barely anything this person did or said should have given me the impression that this was a hopeful kind of love. Alas, I loved anyway.

Maybe, maybe it was the way I fit perfectly within him whenever he hugged me, that perfect disparity in our heights, how he towered above me, I felt safe. Maybe it was the way he smelled, like precious oils soaked in sandalwood. Maybe it was the way he spoke, his voice soft as silk, I can still hear it now as I write this, and even now I remember his singing, how could anyone sing so softly?

Maybe it was the way he spoke to me, imparting knowledge, listening to me argue and drinking knowledge from me just the same. Maybe it was in the little things he did, the things that, though now I realize he may have been doing for a thousand others, made me feel like he did them for only me, and so maybe, in some other world, I was the center of his orbit, as he was mine.

Or maybe it was the way he seemed to love God, and seemed to want to please Him, and it made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I had met the man who was after God's heart and now possibly, maybe, wanted mine as well.

And as many maybes I have put into this writing today, is only a fraction of the "maybes" that stampeded my mind, trying to awaken my heart to the fact that all there was, was just these "maybes", nothing more. That this love I thought I felt, it was empty, and I was gliding upon the premise of just my own love, the only one that existed in this world I had built for myself... I was alone.

It's years gone by now, and though I stare now into the past with open eyes at what used to be, but never could have been, I realize that the only love there is for me to hold onto, is this one in 1 John 4:18. It’s this one that never fails, only this. Only this love is perfect; in this love, there is no “maybe”. And though there are other kinds of love, as long as you've got this one, I've come to realize, not just maybe, but surely, you really, truly, will be ok.

Ignore the title of this piece, I was far from certainty or trust at this point, I understood nothing, I just wanted to sit in a cocoon built out of my own self-pity and continue to beat myself up until my Lord called me home. I had missed what I thought was an opportunity of a lifetime, and I was crushed, crushed by what I felt was my own carelessness, self-loathing slowly but surely encroaching upon me-- I was broken.

"Thank you for applying to this position. Your cv matches this job so please send your cover letter detailing why you would be a right fit for this job to the following email..."

It had been all I had been waiting for, the glimpse of some kind of hope to affirm that all my efforts in this whirlpool of finding my footing in the jungle that is the job market, actually did count for something. The only problem was that I had found it a month after it had been sent. And for someone who had been born with words and ink flowing through every vein, I had somehow found myself void of any words to speak. I scrambled through every key on my laptop, put together words of apology the best way I could to the hiring team lead and ended the message with a question I already knew the answer to; "Is it still possible to apply for this job?"

For weeks after this heart-stopping moment, I had beaten myself up, tried to tell myself that I had been so wrapped up in my dissertation, I'd barely had the time to check any updates on my applications, but that simply didn't cut it for me. No matter what excuse my mind tried to come up with, it made no sense to me; as the voice of accusation rang louder and louder with each passing day, "you were careless... you were so careless," "how could you be so careless? And you claim you wanted this? You clearly didn't want it enough."

So, finally, after what felt like eons endless dreariness, I found myself on my knees before my Saviour. And like I would do when I could no longer keep the misery at bay, I poured my heart out to Him, how hurt I was, how I didn't understand how derelict I could have been with something I claimed to have been so focused on, I knelt there for what felt like forever, teary-eyed and repeatedly stating the phrase "I don't want to feel this way." I wanted to let go of the guilt, but I felt I had to hold on to it; that letting go of that feeling would be irresponsible of me.

Then I heard in my heart, a nudge that I am still discerning, one that I know only comes from the One who gave me breath in my lungs and a purpose for this earth, to open to the book of Job, and so I did, and I opened to a chapter I had never cared to read because for me, it appeared too "lengthy", and I began to read. And there Yahweh was, clear as day, scolding me and questioning me, inquiring of me what power I felt I possessed in my life to feel the way I did as I knelt there. In summary He had one simple answer wrapped in a question, "How dare you think that you are powerful enough to mess up the plans I have for your life?"

And right there and then, I bowed my head in repentance, as that cloak of guilt lifted off of me and that tugging in my chest where condemnation had begun to make its home was completely wiped off. These feelings rarely vanish so instantly for me, and so this felt like a novelty. I embraced the love of my Father once again, as Romans 8:28 found a new meaning in my life and heart. All things may not always happen for our good, but He does, beyond a shadow of a doubt, whatever form that may take, work every single thing, good and bad, to turn out for our own good and inadvertently, for His glory.

I still haven't got a job yet, but that glimmer of hope still shines through, and I will do all I can do keep the substance of all the things I believe for alive, for it is the only proof I have of the things His Word promises me will come. Now, I know that feeling of doubt will come again, but I do hope I remember where to look to, and that I know that I hold the substance of these things not yet seen, things that, though they tarry, will, with certainty, materialize.

I had promised that I would write only once a week, but today, as the feeling washed over me for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few weeks, I knew I needed to let it out before it festered and swallowed me whole from the inside out.

About a few months ago, I experienced a feeling of betrayal from someone I thought I had found a new, promising friendship that would last a lifetime. Now, in the next weeks I will draw from this experience to speak on a series of disappointments that hit me all at once and left me completely shattered and at the feet of my God and Saviour, an experience that, in retrospect, I am grateful for, that if not for anything else, provided me an even closer relationship with my Creator and an understanding that I needed to hold on to Him like I would drown if I didn't, because now, more than ever, I understand that I absolutely would drown right down to the depths of the waters of nothingness if I didn't. But I digress...

This person, for whom I had made sacrifices for personally, but none of which I hold against her, had hurt me so deeply by her actions and lack of consideration for me, that I found myself withdrawing, questioning so many things, the unfairness of it all, that someone could be so selfish, and walk happily away into the sunset without so much as looking back at the disrepair left in her wake. I was broken, truly, and even though I knew there was a lesson I needed to learn, it didn't make this pain any easier.

I had, a few weeks ago, started on reading the first book of Samuel in the Bible and had wondered, at so many instances, how King David could put up with so much betrayal from someone he'd held in such high esteem. David looked upon King Saul as something of a father to himself, and oh, did he love King Saul, but to escape death at the hands of the same person you loved and honoured should at least cause some form of disillusionment in David, however, I saw no disenchantment in him, instead, his love, allegiance even to this king rejected by the Most High still stood strong, even until Saul's death.

I thought back on Samson, well at least he got his day, destroyed the ones who incapacitated and chained him. I reflected on Moses, taking the Israelites at God's command right out of Egypt, only to face untold betrayal and difficulties at the hands of what I have decided are some of the most insufferable, tough-to-please people the earth has every carried upon its aged plains. And still he kept going.

But David stuck with me, maybe because he was my most recent read, or maybe because, truly he displayed god-like graciousness toward this man, and it comforted me, that somewhere, in space and time, Yahweh saw this moment from where He sat, and made it so events could align to nudge me toward reading the first book of the Prophet Samuel at that very moment in time, so I could see myself, my situation, in a man who lived thousands of years before me, and know that whatever action I'd choose to take in the end, that I could be gracious if I wanted to be, hard as it could or would seem.

It has hurt like a boulder directly to the chest, much like the pain I felt the first time I'd gotten my heart broken; like my heart was racing a million miles an hour, thumping beyond my control, like it needed to get right out of my chest and run as far away from the pain that resided inside. I felt true agony. I still feel it now as I write this. It hurts, truly it does. But, if there is anything I have learnt from years gone by and from the past few months, it's a pain that feels like forever in the moment, but will not outlive this side of eternity.

The lessons, perhaps not all, but for the most part, have most certainly been learnt. But it doesn't make the pain any easier. The consequences of her actions still remain and the fact that I now must pick up the pieces left in my hands and rebuild by myself and for myself still glare at me every waking day for the meantime, but I do know that though love must remain, I must also choose myself, and, like David ran, I too must run, as far away as I can, from anything that does not feel right and takes away my peace, I must not run from the pain, but I must run from what causes it; I will be gracious, but I will choose myself.

I will stay selfless, but not without unabashed love of myself, because it is not only necessary, it is right, and because as I love me is as I must love others, and because God First Loved, I can open my disenchanted heart and still make room for these two gems; love and grace.

As always, Love and Light...

I have put off signing up to Prose for the longest time, for so many reasons, reasons I imagine many writers share; do I really have anything to write that people really want to read? Is what I have "Prose-worthy"? But I am glad that I have put it off no further, what I have to write comes from my heart, and write I will.

Ever since I could remember, I have wanted to write, I started my first novel when I was about 10 years old, writing down a story born from the imaginations of my heart into a hardcover notebook I had purchased on one of my many trips to the bookstore with my father. I remember the shock and then profound pride my aunt displayed when she found that book, she couldn't believe that I, little me, had written all of that. I never finished that novel, and for the life of me, I cannot tell where that book would be, but I know that within me resides a myriad of stories; both experiences and observations, that shaped my life and my thoughts, for the better I hope and believe.

Many people aspire to be part of the great discoverers, great founders of businesses, politicians and the like. For me, the one deep-seated dream I have always had, since I was a child, the one that without a doubt always left a feeling of a budding garden within my soul, was to be listed one day as a successor to the greats; Chinua Achebe, Buchi Emecheta, Zaynab Alkali, Chukwuemeka Ike, Cyprian Ekwensi, Wole Soyinka, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. These and more have fueled my dream to write through their works and have fleshed out in many ways my gift and God-given purpose.

I have put off writing for so long, following so many disappointments and experiences that should have been written down as they happened, but it is truly never too late to begin anything at all, and all those experiences and memories stay safely cached in my memory, ready to be poured out, flowing into the stream of stories here on prose and to other places eventually.

I will be honest, raw, true to every experience and, God willing, just as I am on this journey, I hope that others who have also assumed themselves broken by life, will come to realize like I am, that we are not broken, but gracefully broken and that every piece is bringing out something eternally good and great to not only outlive us, but also serve a more glorious purpose on this earth, to the glory of the One who made us.

So, here's to me, unveiling truth, life and purpose as God has put it my heart to do, and I do hope that my people find me.

Until next time... Heart and Light.