I am not afraid of death. What’s more, I think it’s ridiculous for anyone to be apprehensive about a phenomenon that is inevitable. I became even more comfortable with the idea of not existing anymore when I lost my father a few months ago. It is this acquiescence to the potential visit of the grim reaper that reminds me to not take things too seriously.
“God when?” One of the latest in the endless repertoire of lingos that spring up daily in the social media space. The phrase is expressed as a longing for something— a new status—a change in fortune. Gorgeous photos of an about-to-wed couple, the acquisition of a top of the range car, or a business success announcement are only a few of the events that can evoke this saying.
Back in school, I had friends who always had to be in a romantic relationship. Once their lover broke up with them or they had to do the same thing for some reason, they didn’t know what else to do with themselves, so they said “yes” to the next guy who showed interest. Sometimes, it was because they were wary of appearing undesirable to the opposite sex in an environment where it was the fashionable thing to be coupled up. The pressure to be seen as wanted was real and not everyone could withstand it. Most of the time, however, it was the fear of being alone.
One minute you are all chummy, slapping each other’s backs, and gossiping like best friends, the next minute, there’s a gulf. An inexplicable one occasioned by one person’s decision to sever ties. I had only heard and imagined what it felt like until it happened to me. I had made a new friend (or so I thought), and our relationship was on an upward trajectory. Getting to know each other, hanging out and exchanging phone calls and chats, until one day when they stopped communicating. They not only clam up, but they also hibernated and refused to be reached too.