Scribblings Of A Dramatic Introvert

 - a survivor's guide through recession The phrase is quite popular among young adults, denoting a time when we were much younger and wanted every snack by the roadside. The gala hawker would almost thrust a piece into your hands because of how much you kept staring at the well-stacked snacks in his brown carton. Ice cream followed closely, and on other days we just really wanted popcorn. Some of us took liberty into our own hands when we were handed over some little change of money to go about our days. For Sundays, we'd split the offering into two. One for the Lord, and the other half for our bellies. Oily puffpuff, and for me, I was obsessed with the ₦20 meatpie they sold at church gate. Yes, we were supposed to be good kids, but everything looked so tasty. When you blink your eyes at your mom, she raises a stern look, followed by "There's food at home". Sometimes we just go along with the flow, but some days, we threw tantrums, convinced our parents hated us. ...

Some days, we find ourselves in our deep ends; lost as we try to grasp onto anything which can reassure us we do exist after all (Or maybe this is just me). There's a depth we all never wish to fall into, but then we find ourselves trailing that path, slipping away slowly. These are dark days. Days when we find it hardest to put on our smiles, not even the fakest of grins. Nothing just fits and we just want to kick and scream at whoever, whatever. Just never us. When we try to hold a meaningful conversation in these dark moments, it ends as though the universe is turned against us and then that peaceful chat we stopped to have with that ordinarily amazing person turns into a pissed conversation and most times we walk off, mad at them of cour...