CONFESSIONS

The Desire To Be More

I am not afraid to die… I have made my peace with it. But what I fear, is dying without having lived.

Every now and then I take a spot — quiet, still, and lone sit. I close my eyes until I am found wanting by the world. In my mind, I place my self on top of the highest peaked mountain my imagination can create. Now, this is the scenario:

It’s a sad apocalyptic feel and looks — the world looks like the sun is setting all over at the same time, I stand and looked at the foot of the mountain where I stood, and see a long lit line — very long.

What this long lit line represents is my life — my life in a nutshell, from where I stand its so minuscule — almost insignificant — and it is. And each light represents an event, a key moment, a decisive moment — where I made decisions that ultimately determined the entire journey and meaning of my life.

At that moment a dreaded consciousness is poured over me. On that mountain, I can feel my insignificance — if I died today, I'm forever gone into the bottomless unknown. It is not a matter of if, but of when.

Death is inevitable, living is a choice.

Why do I do this? Why do I take the time, every now and then to sit and imagine my life like that?

The best answer to the question is, why not? Why won't I want to contend with the reality of my mortality? Why wouldn’t I want to face the truth behind life?

I am 30 today, an indication that I have what, mere 50–60 years more to be here? When I'm gone, it's only a matter of time before those who knew me also checks out. And those who knew them check out as well. Soon, our existence will never be known. No one alive will know such and such a person ever lived.

I will forever be forgotten. Rendering my entire time on this earth totally meaningless. Mortality renders a life without immortal [profound] deeds to become completely unknown. Like this chunk of time [my life], never happened. Hallelujah to the nihilist.

I am not afraid to die… I have made my peace with it. But what I fear, is dying without having lived. Dying and having my existence thrown out of life. Like getting a divorce in a marriage today, and your partner getting run over by a truck the next day. Hallelujah! Who cares?

I want my life to mean something — to be a statement made, a sentence finished, a play with the perfect end — a novel never to be forgotten, a song evergreen — like a star ever-present.

I want to be the smile you see in the mirror, the tears drizzling down your chin when you laugh. I want to walk the street of Sicily, by the beach of Ragusa, climb the mountains of Erice and drink the Nero D’Avola wine of the Sicilians.

I want to take in the fresh air standing close to the Zuma rock in Abuja, and at night, eat a 50Naira worth of the local bean cake snacks popularly called Akara.

I want to know how Beijing feels like underneath the moon. And at least before I die, get to know how ramen taste like.

I would love to see The White House and shake the hands of Barrack Obama.

But above all, my life main purpose; I would love to see you happy.

“For everything we do for ourselves, we take with us to the grave. But what we do for others, we leave behind.”

I would love to see you living, truly and profoundly living — without bounds, without self-imposed restrictions that appear as fear.

I would love to see you stop hurting, to see you finally find love. I would love to see you not hide anymore — manifest yourself and truly, truly live your life to the best of your ability.

I would love to be significant!

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