Anxiety, Coping System, Descriptive, Emotion, Late Night, Pain, PenPractice, Thoughts, thoughts, writing

Grey Clarity on a Cold Evening

Life is funny, sometimes. A downright comedian when you truly begin to see how it operates. How it flows and ebbs. How it pulls and pushes. A Joker, to be succinct.

And whenever I said this, I’m generally met with momentary confusion and awkward reluctant acceptance especially after I add the caveat that I have at a ready for situations like this.

“Life is funny sometimes because all you can do is laugh… Because if you don’t laugh, well… then it breaks you down.”

Isn’t it interesting how one of the most important, underrated emotions that no one seems to talk about is “Disappointment”

I personally think its one of the stronger negative emotions. Not anger or frustration or pain or grief.

Disappointment. /dɪsəˈpɔɪntm(ə)nt/
sadness or displeasure caused by the non-fulfilment of one’s hopes or expectations.
to her disappointment, there was no chance to talk privately with Luke”

Its a Thursday night (as of this writing) and I’m sequestered on a table at the corner of a beautifully decorated hall to celebrate a friends traditional Nigerian wedding.

The colours are cool; Purple, adorned with white flowers sets and green flowery background around the couples’ chair. A dance floor, white with gold trimmings with the print names of my friends. The music is loud and inviting. Different notes, different tones and the adults are all enjoying themselves in the centre, dancing their night away in joy and laughter.

The joy I feel for my friends, the couple, is immense. Its been a while coming, especially with how the pandemic has derailed everything.

And it is in this immense joy, that I find myself being disappointed.

Disappointed with plans.
Disappointed with Life.
Disappointed with people.
Disappointed in things.
Disappointment like grief.

This, ever-expanding sea of apathy and diet nihilism that I’ve fallen into but I’m not drowning. It’s not choking me. Instead, it wraps itself around me like a breathing apparatus. I can see through the ripples. I can breathe through the tube in my mouth. My movements are delayed but I’m not bound or restrained against my will.

And its because of this disappointment-like-grief that I have to laugh in the face of life being life. In the face of life being volatile. Because if I can’t laugh at the intricacies and idiosyncrasies of life, I lose the only defence against the apathy in front of me.

And that’s the one thing I can’t allow.

After all, if life ebbs and flows like the sea then I’ll be eventually washed up on a beach somewhere. Preferably with a cocktail in one hand and my wife’s hand in the other. Some summer wear to enjoy the season and a hammock so that we can gaze at the blue. And life would be good again.

Until the next tidal wave hits.

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