Michelle’s memoir (chapter one /part one)

Darkness, silence, and stillness all that I could feel. Was I alive? Could I breathe? I was not even sure if I was experiencing some sort of afterlife. The question was how the hell I got there. “Hell isn’t some devil in red trying to beat your soul into submission, neither was it filled with sulphur and brimstone.

It was that aching feeling as you take your last breathe, it was that feeling of regret that words cannot express. Hell was that pang of guilt for the life you lead, that feeling of disgust for the ones you called friends”. I was in hell, not for the sins I committed, but for the decisions I never made, for the steps I never took. And now, for how it all began brace yourselves, this is my story.
Michelle Adeyomi, only female born into a happy family with a loving father and a well, dare I say sceptical and paranoid mother. Unnecessary skip skip, oh yes two brothers, skip skip unnecessary, withheld for the sake of suspense, skip skip skip stop! Nope rewind yes there, the point where it all began. Michelle at sixteen, talk of the town, *omo olowo, *aunty faji, talk of the class. I hope you don’t mind a half dead girl trying to hype herself. Something tells me am not going to get a lot of that where am headed. Yes may I proceed, Michelle the prettiest and *flyest craziest probably but one girl was dragging with me (name not relevant). I was everywhere, teachers knew me, students praised me, and I was living the life. And then he came, drum roll please thank you. I would have said I knew he was trouble when he walked in but nah Taylor swift beat me to that. So I’ll just say he was giving me the vibes. At this juncture you are probably thinking oh yeah cliché girl meets boy blah blah head over hills story but nope, he was my brother my sweet sweet loving baby brother. His name, with no approval whatsoever from me was Miracle. I know right what a name, my mother’s scepto-paranoia was in play. Miracle the chosen child blah blah blah.
I loved my brother like no other, although I was feeling a little cheated I mean three boys one girl really dad? You couldn’t have poured out an xx chromosome or something? Okay let me get to the point. I was more like a mother to that little lad changed his diaper, washed his hair, I was babysitter for free which I must clarify happened not once before his arrival on planet earth. This went on for years till *baba grew muscle and forgot his root.

To be continued

( Omo olowo : rich kid, Aunty faji : likes to enjoy, Flyest :popular, Baba: boy ‘as used above’)

👌 Iwritealot


One Comment Add yours

  1. preshylala says:

    Lol I love the style of writing!! Not the usual boring narrative essays we do in school. Thumbs up Suwa


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