I Was Supposed to Be Happy This Month

I think part of it stems from the feeling of feeling, you know… stagnant. Unsure of what the future holds.

I’ve realised I’m not just mentally exhausted. I’m emotionally and physically drained too. And my mum , God bless her she noticed. It was something she said that made me pause and, for the first time in a while, smile a little. She looked at me and said:

“You always put things behind you. Why are you not putting this behind you? Are you tired?”

And I just started crying. Because yes. I am tired.

And the thing is, I’m always that girl who moves past things ,big things, ugly things, things that would make other people spiral. So you’d think this would be easy. That I’d have found a way to get over this too. But I haven’t. Because I’m just… tired. And unless you’ve felt this specific brand of tiredness the kind that seeps into your soul ,you won’t get it.

And people say, “Go to your boyfriend,” or “Call a friend.” I did that. I’ve done that. And I’m still not happy. I’m still not interested. Still tired. Angry. Sad. Irritated. Frustrated. Confused.

It’s like life is happening to me in slow motion, and I’m just here… watching. Existing. Second-guessing myself. Knowing I can do better, that I should be doing better,

but I can’t, because I’m running on fumes.

People like to remind me I’m young. “You shouldn’t be tired.” But tiredness doesn’t check your birth certificate. There are kids younger than me carrying things no one should ever have to. And trauma or not, I know I’m a strong person. But even the strong ones? Sometimes we just can’t be strong anymore. Sometimes we’re just hoping something ,anything finally goes our way. Sometimes we just want to believe the happy moments will last this time.

Maybe you’re in a relationship hoping you’re finally the only one they love. Maybe you’re waiting on a job, a sign, a win — anything. Sometimes, it’s all just… too much.

My birthday is in a few days, and I was genuinely hopeful this year. But then my samples came in and they sucked. They didn’t just set me back a bit, they derailed my whole plan. It crushed me. And it was on the first day of the month too. Like, how dramatic.

I always joke that I have a “birthday curse.” I rebuke it in Jesus’ name, but every June — every single June — some stupid shit happens. And I wanted to break that jinx this year. I planned to dedicate this month to my joy. I promised myself I wouldn’t overthink things. I’d chase joy, just because. And I’ve done that… a little. Here and there. But joy feels temporary. Fleeting.

I always say, “Let’s dwell in the moment.” But even when I’m in the moment, sometimes an overwhelming sadness creeps in. Like my heart remembers something my brain is trying to forget.

I can’t even read. Me — me — I can’t read. Someone got me a book, and I tried, but I just shut it. Like, abeg. I’m not even there mentally.

I cancelled my photoshoot. Do you know how insane that is? I’ve been screaming about this shoot since January. I made the mood board last year. And now I don’t want to do anything. I don’t even want to show up.

Before I go, let me gist you guys.

So I went to Pause for a shoot. I stepped into the restroom, and this older man saw my tattoo and said, “Oh my God, I love your tattoo.” And I’m like, “Oh my God, thank you.” Casual. But then he tells me he’s 52. Fifty-two. And I’m 21. Zero shame, by the way.

I think he was expecting me to be rude or whatever, but I was just vibing. Then he pulled me into this awkward side hug and I couldn’t dodge it. He was too close. So I just smiled.

He goes, “Can I have your contact?” AFTER telling me he has a serious girlfriend. Sir?? I’m like, “Oh, I also have a serious boyfriend.” We both laugh. But in my head, I’m like… what’s going on?

And then — like we’re old friends or something — this man starts telling me he’s divorced, his ex-wife is this and that, and I’m just trying to exit the restroom area. Like, why are you trauma-dumping on me in between takes?

Anyway, I laughed and asked, “Why are you telling me all this?” And this man looked me dead in the eye and said:

“it’s Lagos right .”

Lord. I hate this city.

Anyway, I wanted to talk about how I don’t feel romance anymore, but we’ll save that story for another day.

Bye, guys.